diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:49:33 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:49:33 -0700 |
| commit | e099b361ae120eeeac76adaf07b9cd711e8f9ed9 (patch) | |
| tree | 6c73a000ba4d0974f7c1df0efaac6257c2cb9140 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 16730-8.txt | 10349 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 16730-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 211132 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 16730.txt | 10349 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 16730.zip | bin | 0 -> 211066 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
7 files changed, 20714 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16730-8.txt b/16730-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3c32a97 --- /dev/null +++ b/16730-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10349 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mike Fletcher, by George (George Augustus) +Moore + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Mike Fletcher + A Novel + + +Author: George (George Augustus) Moore + + + +Release Date: September 21, 2005 [eBook #16730] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIKE FLETCHER*** + + +E-text prepared by Andrew Sly + + + +MIKE FLETCHER + +A Novel + +by + +GEORGE MOORE + +Author of +"A Mummer's Wife," "Confessions of a Young Man," Etc. + +1889 + + + + + + + + TO + MY BROTHER AUGUSTUS, + IN MEMORY OF MANY YEARS OF + MUTUAL ASPIRATION AND LABOUR + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Oaths, vociferations, and the slamming of cab-doors. The darkness was +decorated by the pink of a silk skirt, the crimson of an opera-cloak +vivid in the light of a carriage-lamp, with women's faces, necks, +and hair. The women sprang gaily from hansoms and pushed through the +swing-doors. It was Lubini's famous restaurant. Within the din was +deafening. + + "What cheer, 'Ria! + 'Ria's on the job," + +roared thirty throats, all faultlessly clothed in the purest linen. +They stood round a small bar, and two women and a boy endeavoured +to execute their constant orders for brandies-and-sodas. They were +shoulder to shoulder, and had to hold their liquor almost in each +other's faces. A man whose hat had been broken addressed reproaches +to a friend, who cursed him for interrupting his howling. + +Issued from this saloon a long narrow gallery set with a single line +of tables, now all occupied by reproaches to a friend, who cursed him +for interrupting his howling. + +Issued from this saloon a long narrow gallery set with a single line +of tables, now all occupied by supping courtesans and their men. An +odour of savouries, burnt cheese and vinegar met the nostrils, also +the sharp smell of a patchouli-scented handkerchief drawn quickly +from a bodice; and a young man protested energetically against a wild +duck which had been kept a few days over its time. Lubini, or Lubi, +as he was called by his pals, signed to the waiter, and deciding the +case in favour of the young man, he pulled a handful of silver out of +his pocket and offered to toss three lords, with whom he was +conversing, for drinks all round. + +"Feeling awfully bad, dear boy; haven't been what I could call sober +since Monday. Would you mind holding my liquor for me? I must go and +speak to that chappie." + +Since John Norton had come to live in London, his idea had been to +put his theory of life, which he had defined in his aphorism, "Let +the world be my monastery," into active practice. He did not +therefore refuse to accompany Mike Fletcher to restaurants and +music-halls, and was satisfied so long as he was allowed to +disassociate and isolate himself from the various women who clustered +about Mike. But this evening he viewed the courtesans with more +than the usual liberalism of mind, had even laughed loudly when one +fainted and was upheld by anxious friends, the most zealous and the +most intimate of whom bathed her white tragic face and listened in +alarm to her incoherent murmurings of "Mike darling, oh, Mike!" John +had uttered no word of protest until dear old Laura, who had never, +as Mike said, behaved badly to anybody, and had been loved by +everybody, sat down at their table, and the discussion turned on who +was likely to be Bessie's first sweetheart, Bessie being her youngest +sister whom she was "bringing out." Then he rose from the table and +wished Mike good-night; but Mike's liking for John was sincere, and +preferring his company to Laura's, he paid the bill and followed his +friend out of the restaurant; and as they walked home together he +listened to his grave and dignified admonitions, and though John +could not touch Mike's conscience, he always moved his sympathies. It +is the shallow and the insincere that inspire ridicule and contempt, +and even in the dissipations of the Temple, where he had come to +live, he had not failed to enforce respect for his convictions and +ideals. + +In the Temple John had made many acquaintances and friends, and about +him were found the contributors to the _Pilgrim_, a weekly newspaper +devoted to young men, their doings, their amusements, their +literature, and their art. The editor and proprietor of this organ +of amusement was Escott. His editorial work was principally done in +his chambers in Temple Gardens, where he lived with his friend, Mike +Fletcher. Of necessity the newspaper drew, like gravitation, art +and literature, but the revelling lords who assembled there were +a disintegrating influence, and made John Norton a sort of second +centre; and Harding and Thompson and others of various temperaments +and talents found their way to Pump Court. Like cuckoos, some men are +only really at home in the homes of others; others are always ill at +ease when taken out of the surroundings which they have composed to +their ideas and requirements; and John Norton was never really John +Norton except when, wrapped in his long dressing-gown and sitting in +his high canonical chair, he listened to Harding's paradoxes or +Thompson's sententious utterances. These artistic discussions--when +in the passion of the moment, all the cares of life were lost and +the soul battled in pure idea--were full of attraction and charm +for John, and he often thought he had never been so happy. And then +Harding's eyes would brighten, and his intelligence, eager as a wolf +prowling for food, ran to and fro, seeking and sniffing in all John's +interests and enthusiasms. He was at once fascinated by the scheme +for the pessimistic poem and charmed with the projected voyage in +Thibet and the book on the Great Lamas. + +One evening a discussion arose as to whether Goethe had stolen from +Schopenhauer, or Schopenhauer from Goethe, the comparison of man's +life with the sun "which seems to set to our earthly eyes, but which +in reality never sets, but shines on unceasingly." The conversation +came to a pause, and then Harding said-- + +"Mike spoke to me of a pessimistic poem he has in mind; did he ever +speak to you about it, Escott?" + +"I think he said something once, but he did not tell me what it was +about. He can speak of nothing now but a nun whom he has persuaded +to leave her convent. I had thought of having some articles written +about convents, and we went to Roehampton. While I was talking to my +cousin, who is at school there, he got into conversation with one of +the sisters. I don't know how he managed it, but he has persuaded her +to leave the convent, and she is coming to see him to-morrow." + +"You don't mean to say," cried John, "that he has persuaded one of +the nuns to leave the convent and to come and see him in Temple +Gardens? Such things should not be permitted. The Reverend Mother or +some one is in fault. That man has been the ruin of hundreds, if not +in fact, in thought. He brings an atmosphere of sensuality wherever +he goes, and all must breathe it; even the most virtuous are +contaminated. I have felt the pollution myself. If the woman is +seventy she will look pleased and coquette if he notices her. The +fascination is inexplicable!" + +"We all experience it, and that is why we like Mike," said Harding. +"I heard a lady, and a woman whose thoughts are not, I assure you, +given to straying in that direction, say that the first time she saw +him she hated him, but soon felt an influence like the fascination +the serpent exercises over the bird stealing over her. We find but +ourselves in all that we see, hear, and feel. The world is but our +idea. All that women have of goodness, sweetness, gentleness, they +keep for others. A woman would not speak to you of what is bad in +her, but she would to Mike; her sensuality is the side of her nature +which she shows him, be she Messalina or St. Theresa; the proportion, +not the principle is altered. And this is why Mike cannot believe in +virtue, and declares his incredulity to be founded on experience." + +"No doubt, no doubt!" + +Fresh brandies-and-sodas were poured out, fresh cigars were lighted, +and John descended the staircase and walked with his friends into +Pump Court, where they met Mike Fletcher. + +"What have you been talking about to-night?" he asked. + +"We wanted Norton to read us the pessimistic poem he is writing, but +he says it is in a too unfinished state. I told him you were at work +on one on the same subject. It is curious that you who differ so +absolutely on essentials should agree to sink your differences at the +very point at which you are most opposed to principle and practice." + +After a pause, Mike said-- + +"I suppose it was Schopenhauer's dislike of women that first +attracted you. He used to call women the short-legged race, that were +only admitted into society a hundred and fifty years ago." + +"Did he say that? Oh, how good, and how true! I never could think +a female figure as beautiful as a male. A male figure rises to the +head, and is a symbol of the intelligence; a woman's figure sinks to +the inferior parts of the body, and is expressive of generation." + +As he spoke his eyes followed the line and balance of Mike's neck and +shoulders, which showed at this moment upon a dark shadow falling +obliquely along an old wall. Soft, violet eyes in which tenderness +dwelt, and the strangely tall and lithe figure was emphasized by the +conventional pose--that pose of arm and thigh which the Greeks never +wearied of. Seeing him, the mind turned from the reserve of the +Christian world towards the frank enjoyment of the Pagan; and John's +solid, rhythmless form was as symbolic of dogma as Mike's of the +grace of Athens. + +As he ascended the stairs, having bidden his friends good-night, John +thought of the unfortunate nun whom that man had persuaded to leave +her convent, and he wondered if he were justified in living in such +close communion of thought with those whose lives were set in all +opposition to the principles on which he had staked his life's value. +He was thinking and writing the same thoughts as Fletcher. They were +swimming in the same waters; they were living the same life. + +Disturbed in mind he walked across the room, his spectacles +glimmering on his high nose, his dressing-gown floating. The +manuscript of the poems caught his eyes, and he turned over the +sheets, his hand trembling violently. And if they were antagonistic +to the spirit of his teaching, if not to the doctrine that the Church +in her eternal wisdom deemed healthful and wise, and conducive to the +best attainable morality and heaven? What a fearful responsibility +he was taking upon himself! He had learned in bitter experience that +he must seek salvation rather in elimination than in acceptance of +responsibilities. But his poems were all he deemed best in the world. +For a moment John stood face to face with, and he looked into the +eyes of, the Church. The dome of St. Peter's, a solitary pope, +cardinals, bishops, and priests. Oh! wonderful symbolization of man's +lust of eternal life! + +Must he renounce all his beliefs? The wish so dear to him that the +unspeakable spectacle of life might cease for ever; must he give +thanks for existence because it gave him a small chance of gaining +heaven? Then it were well to bring others into the world.... True it +is that the Church does not advance into such sloughs of optimism, +but how different is her teaching from that of the early fathers, and +how different is such dull optimism from the severe spirit of early +Christianity. + +Whither lay his duty? Must he burn the poems? Far better that they +should burn and he should save his soul from burning. A sudden vision +of hell, a realistic mediæval hell full of black devils and ovens +came upon him, and he saw himself thrust into flame. It seemed to him +certain that his soul was lost--so certain, that the source of prayer +died within him and he fell prostrate. He cursed, with curses that +seared his soul as he uttered them, Harding, that cynical atheist, +who had striven to undermine his faith, and he shrank from thought of +Fletcher, that dirty voluptuary. + +He went out for long walks, hoping by exercise to throw off the gloom +and horror which were thickening in his brain. He sought vainly to +arrive at some certain opinions concerning his poems, and he weighed +every line, not now for cadence and colour, but with a view of +determining their ethical tendencies; and this poor torn soul stood +trembling on the verge of fearful abyss of unreason and doubt. + +And when he walked in the streets, London appeared a dismal, phantom +city. The tall houses vanishing in darkness, the unending noise, the +sudden and vague figures passing; some with unclean gaze, others in +mysterious haste, the courtesans springing from hansoms and entering +their restaurant, lurking prostitutes, jocular lads, and alleys +suggestive of crime. All and everything that is city fell violently +upon his mind, jarring it, and flashing over his brow all the horror +of delirium. His pace quickened, and he longed for wings to rise out +of the abominable labyrinth. + +At that moment a gable of a church rose against the sky. The gates +were open, and one passing through seemed to John like an angel, and +obeying the instinct which compels the hunted animal to seek refuge +in the earth, he entered, and threw himself on his knees. Relief +came, and the dread about his heart was loosened in the romantic +twilight. One poor woman knelt amid the chairs; presently she rose +and went to the confessional. He waited his turn, his eyes fixed on +the candles that burned in the dusky distance. + +"Father, forgive me, for I have sinned!" + +The priest, an old man of gray and shrivelled mien, settled his +cassock and mumbled some Latin. + +"I have come to ask your advice, father, rather than to confess the +sins I have committed in the last week. Since I have come to live in +London I have been drawn into the society of the dissolute and the +impure." + +"And you have found that your faith and your morals are being +weakened by association with these men?" + +"I have to thank God that I am uninfluenced by them. Their society +presents no attractions for me, but I am engaged in literary +pursuits, and most of the young men with whom I am brought in contact +lead unclean and unholy lives. I have striven, and have in some +measure succeeded, in enforcing respect for my ideals; never have +I countenanced indecent conversation, although perhaps I have not +always set as stern a face against it as I might have." + +"But you have never joined in it?" + +"Never. But, father, I am on the eve of the publication of a volume +of poems, and I am grievously afflicted with scruples lest their +tendency does not stand in agreement with the teaching of our holy +Church." + +"Do you fear their morality, my son?" + +"No, no!" said John in an agitated voice, which caused the old man to +raise his eyes and glance inquiringly at his penitent; "the poem I am +most fearful of is a philosophic poem based on Schopenhauer." + +"I did not catch the name." + +"Schopenhauer; if you are acquainted with his works, father, you will +appreciate my anxieties, and will see just where my difficulty lies." + +"I cannot say I can call to mind at this moment any exact idea of his +philosophy; does it include a denial of the existence of God?" + +"His teaching, I admit, is atheistic in its tendency, but I do not +follow him to his conclusions. A part of his theory--that of the +resignation of desire of life--seems to me not only reconcilable with +the traditions of the Church, but may really be said to have been +original and vital in early Christianity, however much it may have +been forgotten in these later centuries. Jesus Christ our Lord is the +perfect symbol of the denial of the will to live." + +"Jesus Christ our Lord died to save us from the consequences of the +sin of our first parents. He died of His own free-will, but we may +not live an hour more than is given to us to live, though we desire +it with our whole heart. We may be called away at any moment." + +John bent his head before the sublime stupidity of the priest. + +"I was anxious, father, to give you in a few words some account of +the philosophy which has been engaging my attention, so that you +might better understand my difficulties. Although Schopenhauer may be +wrong in his theory regarding the will, the conclusion he draws from +it, namely, that we may only find lasting peace in resignation, seems +to me well within the dogma of our holy Church." + +"It surprises me that he should hold such opinions, for if he does +not acknowledge a future state, the present must be everything, and +the gratification of the senses the only...." + +"I assure you, father, no one can be more opposed to materialism than +Schopenhauer. He holds the world we live in to be a mere +delusion--the veil of Maya." + +"I am afraid, my son, I cannot speak with any degree of certainty +about either of those authors, but I think it my duty to warn you +against inclining too willing an ear to the specious sophistries of +German philosophers. It would be well if you were to turn to our +Christian philosophers; our great cardinal--Cardinal Newman--has over +and over again refuted the enemies of the Church. I have forgotten +the name." + +"Schopenhauer." + +"Now I will give you absolution." + +The burlesque into which his confession had drifted awakened new +terrors in John and sensations of sacrilege. He listened devoutly to +the prattle of the priest, and to crush the rebellious spirit in him +he promised to submit his poems; and he did not allow himself to +think the old man incapable of understanding them. But he knew he +would not submit those poems, and turning from the degradation he +faced a command which had suddenly come upon him. A great battle +raged; and growing at every moment less conscious of all save his +soul's salvation, he walked through the streets, his stick held +forward like a church candle. + +He walked through the city, seeing it not, and hearing all cruel +voices dying to one--this: "I can only attain salvation by the +elimination of all responsibilities. There is therefore but one +course to adopt." Decision came upon him like the surgeon's knife. It +was in the cold darkness of his rooms in Pump Court. He raised his +face, deadly pale, from his hands; but gradually it went aflame with +the joy and rapture of sacrifice, and taking his manuscript, he +lighted it in the gas. He held it for a few moments till it was well +on fire, and then threw it all blazing under the grate. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +An odour of spirits evaporated in the warm winds of May which came +through the open window. The rich velvet sofa of early English design +was littered with proofs and copies of the _Pilgrim_, and the stamped +velvet was two shades richer in tone than the pale dead-red of the +floorcloth. Small pictures in light frames harmonized with a green +paper of long interlacing leaves. On the right, the grand piano and +the slender brass lamps; and the impression of refinement and taste +was continued, for between the blue chintz curtains the river lay +soft as a picture of old Venice. The beauty of the water, full of +the shadows of hay and sails, many forms of chimneys, wharfs, and +warehouses, made panoramic and picturesque by the motion of the great +hay-boats, were surely wanted for the windows of this beautiful +apartment. + +Mike and Frank stood facing the view, and talked of Lily Young, whom +Mike was momentarily expecting. + +"You know as much about it as I do. It was only just at the end that +you spoke to your cousin and I got in a few words." + +"What did you say?" + +"What could I say? Something to the effect that the convent must be a +very happy home." + +"How did you know she cared for you?" + +"I always know that. The second time we went there she told me she +was going to leave the convent. I asked her what had decided her to +take that step, and she looked at me--that thirsting look which women +cannot repress. I said I hoped I should see her when she came to +London; she said she hoped so too. Then I knew it was all right. I +pressed her hand, and when we went again I said she would find a +letter waiting for her at the post-office. Somehow she got the letter +sooner than I expected, and wrote to say she'd come here if she +could. Here is the letter. But will she come?" + +"Even if she does, I don't see what good it will do you; it isn't as +if you were really in love with her." + +"I believe I am in love; it sounds rather awful, doesn't it? but she +is wondrous sweet. I want to be true to her. I want to live for her. +I'm not half so bad as you think I am. I have often tried to be +constant, and now I mean to be. This ceaseless desire of change is +very stupid, and it leads to nothing. I'm sick of change, and would +think of none but her. You have no idea how I have altered since I +have seen her. I used to desire all women. I wrote a ballade the +other day on the women of two centuries hence. Is it not shocking +to think that we shall lie mouldering in our graves while women are +dancing and kissing? They will not even know that I lived and was +loved. It will not occur to them to say as they undress of an +evening, 'Were he alive to-day we might love him.'" + + + THE BALLADE OF DON JUAN DEAD + + My days for singing and loving are over, + And stark I lie in my narrow bed, + I care not at all if roses cover, + Or if above me the snow is spread; + I am weary of dreaming of my sweet dead, + All gone like me unto common clay. + Life's bowers are full of love's fair fray, + Of piercing kisses and subtle snares; + So gallants are conquered, ah, well away!-- + My love was stronger and fiercer than theirs. + + O happy moths that now flit and hover + From the blossom of white to the blossom of red, + Take heed, for I was a lordly lover + Till the little day of my life had sped; + As straight as a pine-tree, a golden head, + And eyes as blue as an austral bay. + Ladies, when loosing your evening array, + Reflect, had you lived in my years, my prayers + Might have won you from weakly lovers away-- + My love was stronger and fiercer than theirs. + + Through the song of the thrush and the pipe of the plover + Sweet voices come down through the binding lead; + O queens that every age must discover + For men, that man's delight may be fed; + Oh, sister queens to the queens I wed. + For the space of a year, a month, a day, + No thirst but mine could your thirst allay; + And oh, for an hour of life, my dears, + To kiss you, to laugh at your lovers' dismay-- + My love was stronger and fiercer than theirs. + + + ENVOI + Prince was I ever of festival gay, + And time never silvered my locks with gray; + The love of your lovers is as hope that despairs, + So think of me sometimes, dear ladies, I pray-- + My love was stronger and fiercer than theirs. + + +"It is like all your poetry--merely meretricious glitter; there is no +heart in it. That a man should like to have a nice mistress, a girl +he is really fond of, is simple enough, but lamentation over the +limbo of unborn loveliness is, to my mind, sheer nonsense." + +Mike laughed. + +"Of course it is silly, but I cannot alter it; it is the sex and not +any individual woman that attracts me. I enter a ball-room and I see +one, one whom I have never seen before, and I say, 'It is she whom I +have sought, I can love her.' I am always disappointed, but hope is +born again in every fresh face. Women are so common when they have +loved you." + +Startled by his words, Mike strove to measure the thought. + +"I can see nothing interesting in the fact that it is natural to you +to behave badly to every woman who gives you a chance of deceiving +her. That's what it amounts to. At the end of a week you'll tire of +this new girl as you did of the others. I think it a great shame. It +isn't gentlemanly." + +Mike winced at the word "gentlemanly." For a moment he thought of +resentment, but his natural amiability predominated, and he said-- + +"I hope not. I really do think I can love this one; she isn't like +the others. Besides, I shall be much happier. There is, I know, a +great sweetness in constancy. I long for this sweetness." Seeing by +Frank's face that he was still angry, he pursued his thoughts in the +line which he fancied would be most agreeable; he did so without +violence to his feelings. It was as natural to him to think one way +as another. Mike's sycophancy was so innate that it did not appear, +and was therefore almost invariably successful. "I have been the +lover of scores of women, but I never loved one. I have always hoped +to love; it is love that I seek. I find love-tokens and I do not know +who were the givers. I have possessed nothing but the flesh, and I +have always looked beyond the flesh. I never sought a woman for her +beauty. I dreamed of a companion, one who would share each thought; +I have dreamed of a woman to whom I could bring my poetry, who could +comprehend all sorrows, and with whom I might deplore the sadness of +life until we forget it was sad, and I have been given some more or +less imperfect flesh." + +"I," said Frank, "don't care a rap for your blue-stockings. I like a +girl to look pretty and sweet in a muslin dress, her hair with the +sun on it slipping over her shoulders, a large hat throwing a shadow +over the garden of her face. I like her to come and sit on my knee in +the twilight before dinner, to come behind me when I am working and +put her hand on my forehead, saying, 'Poor old man, you are tired!'" + +"And you could love one girl all your life--Lizzie Baker, for +instance; and you could give up all women for one, and never wander +again free to gather?" + +"It is always the same thing." + +"No, that is just what it is not. The last one was thin, this one +is fat; the last one was tall, this one is tiny. The last one was +stupid, this one is witty. Some men seek the source of the Nile, I +the lace of a bodice. A new love is a voyage of discovery. What is +her furniture like? What will she say? What are her opinions of love? +But when you have been a woman's lover a month you know her morally +and physically. Society is based on the family. The family alone +survives, it floats like an ark over every raging flood. But you +may understand without being able to accept, and I cannot accept, +although I understand and love family life. What promiscuity of body +and mind! The idea of never being alone fills me with horror to lose +that secret self, which, like a shy bird, flies out of sight in the +day, but is with you, oh, how intensely in the morning!" + +"Nothing pleases you so much as to be allowed to talk nonsense about +yourself." + +Mike laughed. + +"Let me have those opera-glasses. That woman sitting on the bench is +like her." + +The trees of the embankment waved along the laughing water, and in +scores the sparrows flitted across the sleek green sward. The porter +in his bright uniform, cocked hat, and brass buttons, explained the +way out to a woman. Her child wore a red sash and stooped to play +with a cat that came along the railings, its tail high in the air. + +"They know nothing of Lily Young," Mike said to himself; and knowing +the porter could not interfere, he wondered what he would think if he +knew all. "If she comes nothing can save her, she must and shall be +mine." + +Waterloo Bridge stood high above the river, level and lovely. Over +Charing Cross the brightness was full of spires and pinnacles, but +Southwark shore was lost in flat dimness. Then the sun glowed and +Westminster ascended tall and romantic, St. Thomas's and St. John's +floating in pale enchantment, and beneath the haze that heaved and +drifted, revealing coal-barges moored by the Southwark shore, lay a +sheet of gold. The candour of the morning laughed upon the river; +and there came a little steamer into the dazzling water, her smoke +heeling over, coiling and uncoiling like a snake, and casting +tremendous shadow--in her train a line of boats laden to the edge +with deal planks. Then the haze heaved and London disappeared, became +again a gray city, faint and far away--faint as spires seem in a +dream. Again and again the haze wreathed and went out, discovering +wharfs and gold inscriptions, uncovering barges aground upon the +purple slime of the Southwark shore, their yellow yards pointing like +birds with outstretched necks. + +The smoke of the little steamer curled and rolled over, now like a +great snake, now like a great bird hovering with a snake in its +talons; and the little steamer made pluckily for Blackfriars. Carts +and hansoms, vans and brewers' vans, all silhouetting. Trains slip +past, obliterating with white whiffs the delicate distances, the +perplexing distances that in London are delicate and perplexing as +a spider's web. Great hay-boats yellow in the sun, brown in the +shadow--great hay-boats came by, their sails scarce filled with the +light breeze; standing high, they sailed slowly and picturesquely, +with men thrown in all attitudes; somnolent in sunshine and pungent +odour--one only at work, wielding the great rudder. + +"Ah! if she would not disappoint me; if she would only come; I would +give my life not to be disappointed.... Three o'clock! She said she +would be here by three, if she came at all. I think I could love +her--I am sure of it; it would be impossible to weary of her--so +frail--a white blonde. She said she would come, I know she wanted +to.... This waiting is agony! Oh, if I were only good-looking! +Whatever power I have over women I have acquired; it was the desire +to please women that gave me whatever power I possess; I was as soft +as wax, and in the fingers of desire was modified and moulded. You +did not know me when I was a boy--I was hideous. It seemed to me +impossible that women could love men. Women seemed to me so beautiful +and desirable, men so hideous and revolting. Could they touch us +without a revulsion of feeling? Could they really desire us? That +is why I could not bear to give women money, nor a present of any +kind--no, not even a flower. If I did all my pleasure was gone; +I could not help thinking it was for what they got out of me that +they liked me. I longed to penetrate the mystery of women's life. +It seemed to me cruel that the differences between the sexes should +never be allowed to dwindle, but should be strictly maintained +through all the observances of life. There were beautiful beings +walking by us of whom we knew nothing--irreparably separated from +us. I wanted to be with this sex as a shadow is with its object." + +"You didn't find many opportunities of gratifying your tastes in +Cashel?" + +"No, indeed! Of course the women about the town were not to be +thought of." Unpleasant memories seemed to check his flow of words. + +Without noticing his embarrassment, Frank said-- + +"After France it must have been a horrible change to come to Ireland. +How old were you?" + +"About fourteen. I could not endure the place. Every day was so +appallingly like the last. There was nothing for me to do but to +dream; I dreamed of everything. I longed to get alone and let my +fancy wander--weaving tales of which I was the hero, building castles +of which I was the lord." + +"I remember always hearing of your riding and shooting. No one knew +of your literary tastes. I don't mind telling you that Mount Rorke +often suspected you of being a bit of a poacher." + +Mike laughed. + +"I believe I have knocked down a pheasant or two. I was an odd +mixture--half a man of action, half a man of dreams. My position in +Cashel was unbearable. My mother was a lady; my father--you know how +he had let himself down. You cannot imagine the yearnings of a poor +boy; you were brought up in all elegance and refinement. That +beautiful park! On afternoons I used to walk there, and I remember +the very moments I passed under the foliage of the great beeches and +lay down to dream. I used to wander to the outskirts of the wood as +near as I dared to the pleasure-grounds, and looking on the towers +strove to imagine the life there. The bitterest curses lie in the +hearts of young men who, understanding refinement and elegance, see +it for ever out of their reach. I used to watch the parade of dresses +passing on the summer lawns between the firs and flowering trees. +What graceful and noble words were spoken!--and that man walking into +the poetry of the laburnum gold, did he put his arm about her? And I +wondered what silken ankles moved beneath her skirts. My brain was on +fire, and I was crazed; I thought I should never hold a lady in my +arms. A lady! all the delicacy of silk and lace, high-heeled shoes, +and the scent and colour of hair that a _coiffeur_ has braided." + +"I think you are mad!" + +Mike laughed and continued-- + +"I was so when I was sixteen. There was a girl staying there. Her +hair was copper, and her flesh was pink and white. Her waist, you +could span it. I saw her walking one day on ..." + +"You must mean Lady Alice Hargood, a very tall girl?" + +"Yes; five feet seven, quite. I saw her walking on the terrace with +your uncle. Once she passed our house, and I smarted with shame of it +as of some restless wound, and for days I remembered I was little +better than a peasant. Originally we came, as you know, of good +English stock, but nothing is vital but the present. I cried and +cursed my existence, my father and the mother that bore me, and that +night I climbed out by my window and roved through the dark about the +castle so tall in the moonlight. The sky that night was like a soft +blue veil, and the trees were painted quite black upon it. I looked +for her window, and I imagined her sleeping with her copper hair +tossed in the moonlight, like an illustration in a volume of Shelley. + +"You remember the old wooden statue of a nymph that stood in the +sycamores at the end of the terraces; she was the first naked woman I +saw. I used to wander about her, sometimes at night, and I have often +climbed about and hung round those shoulders, and ever since I have +always met that breast of wood. You have been loved more truly; you +have been possessed of woman more thoroughly than I. Though I clasp a +woman in my arms, it is as if the Atlantic separated us. Did I never +tell you of my first love affair? That was the romance of the wood +nymph. One evening I climbed on the pedestal of my divinity, my cheek +was pale ..." + +"For God's sake, leave out the poetics, and come to the facts." + +"If you don't let me tell my story in my own way I won't tell it at +all. Out of my agony prayer rose to Alice, for now it pleased me to +fancy there was some likeness between this statue and Lady Alice. The +dome of leafage was sprinkled with the colour of the sunset, and as I +pressed my lips to the wooden statue, I heard dead leaves rustling +under a footstep. Holding the nymph with one arm, I turned and saw a +lady approaching. She asked me why I kissed the statue. I looked away +embarrassed, but she told me not to go, and she said, 'You are a +pretty boy.' I said I had never seen a woman so beautiful. Again +I grew ashamed, but the lady laughed. We stood talking in the +stillness. She said I had pretty hands, and asked me if I regretted +the nymph was not a real woman. She took my hands. I praised hers, +and then I grew frightened, for I knew she came from the castle; the +castle was to me what the Ark of the Covenant was to an Israelite. +She put her arm about me, and my fears departed in the thrilling of +an exquisite minute. She kissed me and said, 'Let us sit down.'" + +"I wonder who she was! What was her name? You can tell me." + +"No, I never mention names; besides, I am not certain she gave her +right name." + +"Are you sure she was staying at the castle? For if so, there would +be no use for her to conceal her name. You could easily have found +it out." + +"Oh, yes, she was staying at the castle; she talked about you all. +Don't you believe me?" + +"What, all about the nymph? I am certain you thought you ought to +have loved her, and if what Harding says is right, that there is more +truth in what we think than in what we do, I'm sure you might say +that you had been on a wedding-tour with one of the gargoyles." + +Mike laughed; and Frank did not suspect that he had annoyed him. +Mike's mother was a Frenchwoman, whom John Fletcher had met in Dublin +and had pressed into a sudden marriage. At the end of three years of +married life she had been forced to leave him, and strange were the +legends of the profanities of that bed. She fled one day, taking her +son with her. Fletcher did not even inquire where she had gone; and +when at her death Mike returned to Ireland, he found his father in a +small lodging-house playing the flute. Scarcely deigning to turn his +head, he said--"Oh! is that you, Mike?--sit down." + +At his father's death, Mike had sold the lease of the farm for three +hundred pounds, and with that sum and a volume of verse he went to +London. When he had published his poems he wrote two comedies. His +efforts to get them produced led him into various society. He was +naturally clever at cards, and one night he won three hundred pounds. +Journalism he had of course dabbled in--he was drawn towards it by +his eager impatient nature; he was drawn from it by his gluttonous +and artistic nature. Only ten pounds for an article, whereas a +successful "bridge" brought him ten times that amount, and he +revolted against the column of platitudes that the hours whelmed in +oblivion. There had been times, however, when he had been obliged to +look to journalism for daily bread. The _Spectator_, always open to +young talent, had published many of his poems; the _Saturday_ had +welcomed his paradoxes and strained eloquence; but whether he worked +or whether he idled he never wanted money. He was one of those men +who can always find five pounds in the streets of London. + +We meet Mike in his prime--in his twenty-ninth year--a man of various +capabilities, which an inveterate restlessness of temperament had +left undeveloped--a man of genius, diswrought with passion, +occasionally stricken with ambition. + +"Let me have those glasses. There she is! I am sure it is she--there, +leaning against the Embankment. Yes, yes, it is she. Look at her. I +should know her figure among a thousand--those frail shoulders, that +little waist; you could break her like a reed. How sweet she is on +that background of flowing water, boats, wharfs, and chimneys; it all +rises about her like a dream, and all is as faint upon the radiant +air as a dream upon happy sleep. So she is coming to see me. She will +keep her promise. I shall love her. I feel at last that love is near +me. Supposing I were to marry her?" + +"Why shouldn't you marry her if you love her? That is to say, if this +is more than one of your ordinary caprices, spiced by the fact that +its object is a nun." + +The men looked at each other for a moment doubtful. Then Mike +laughed. + +"I hope I don't love her too much, that is all. But perhaps she will +not come. Why is she standing there?" + +"I should laugh if she turned on her heel and walked away right under +your very nose." + +A cloud passed over Mike's face. + +"That's not possible," he said, and he raised the glass. "If I +thought there was any chance of that I should go down to see her." + +"You couldn't force her to come up. She seems to be admiring the +view." + +Then Lily left the embankment and turned towards the Temple. + +"She is coming!" Mike cried, and laying down the opera-glass he took +up the scent and squirted it about the room. "You won't make much +noise, like a good fellow, will you? I shall tell her I am here +alone." + +"I shall make no noise--I shall finish my article. I am expecting +Lizzie about four; I will slip out and meet her in the street. +Good-bye." + +Mike went to the head of the staircase, and looking down the +prodigious height, he waited. It occurred to him that if he fell, the +emparadised hour would be lost for ever. If she were to pass through +the Temple without stopping at No. 2! The sound of little feet and +the colour of a heliotrope skirt dispersed his fears, and he watched +her growing larger as she mounted each flight of stairs; when she +stopped to take breath, he thought of running down and carrying her +up in his arms, but he did not move, and she did not see him until +the last flight. + +"Here you are at last!" + +"I am afraid I have kept you waiting. I was not certain whether I +should come." + +"And you stopped to look at the view instead?" + +"Yes, but how did you know that?" + +"Ah! that's telling; come in." + +The girl went in shyly. + +"So this is where you live? How nicely you have arranged the room. +I never saw a room like this before. How different from the convent! +What would the nuns think if they saw me here? What strange +pictures!--those ballet-girls; they remind me of the pantomime. +Did you buy those pictures?" + +"No; they are wonderful, aren't they? A friend of mine bought them +in France." + +"Mr. Escott?" + +"Yes; I forgot you knew him--how stupid of me! Had it not been for +him I shouldn't have known you--I was thinking of something else." + +"Where is he now? I hope he will not return while I am here. You did +not tell him I was coming?" + +"Of course not; he is away in France." + +"And those portraits--it is always the same face." + +"They are portraits of a girl he is in love with." + +"Do you believe he is in love?" + +"Yes, rather; head over heels. What do you think of the painting?" + +Lily did not answer. She stood puzzled, striving to separate the +confused notions the room conveyed to her. She wore on her shoulders +a small black lace shawl and held a black silk parasol. She was very +slender, and her features were small and regular, and so white was +her face that the blue eyes seemed the only colour. There was, +however, about the cheek-bones just such tint as mellow as a white +rose. + +"How beautiful you are to-day. I knew you would be beautiful when you +discarded that shocking habit; but you are far more beautiful than I +thought. Let me kiss you." + +"No, you will make me regret that I came here. I wanted to see where +you lived, so that when I was away I could imagine you writing your +poems. Have you nothing more to show me? I want to see everything." + +"Yes, come, I will show you our dining-room. Mr. Escott often gives +dinner-parties. You must get your mother to bring you." + +"I should like to. But what a good idea to have book-cases in the +passages, they furnish the walls so well. And what are those rooms?" + +"Those belong to Escott. Here is where I sleep." + +"What a strange room!" discountenanced by the great Christ. She +turned her head. + +"That crucifix is a present from Frank. He bought it in Paris. It is +superb expression of the faith of the Middle Ages." + +"Old ages, I should think; it is all worm-eaten. And that Virgin? I +did not know you were so religious." + +"I do not believe in Christianity, but I think Christ is +picturesque." + +"Christ is very beautiful. When I prayed to Him an hour passed like +a little minute. It always seemed to me more natural to pray to Him +than to the Virgin Mary. But is that your bed?" + +Upon a trellis supported by lion's claws a feather bed was laid. The +sheets and pillows were covered with embroidered cloth, the gift of +some unhappy lady, and about the twisted columns heavy draperies hung +in apparent disorder. Lily sat down on the pouff ottoman. Mike took +two Venetian glasses, poured out some champagne, and sat at her feet. +She sipped the wine and nibbled a biscuit. + +"Tell me about the convent," he said. "That is now a thing over and +done." + +"Fortunately I was not professed; had I taken vows I could not have +broken them." + +"Why not? A nun cannot be kept imprisoned nowadays." + +"I should not have broken my vows." + +"It was I who saved you from them--if you had not fallen in love with +me ..." + +"I never said I had fallen in love with you; I liked you, that was +all." + +"But it was for me you left the convent?" + +"No; I had made up my mind to leave the convent long before I saw +you. So you thought it was love at first sight." + +"On my part, at least, it was love at first sight. How happy I am!--I +can scarcely believe I have got you. To have you here by me seems so +unreal, so impossible. I always loved you. I want to tell you about +myself. You were my ideal when I was a boy; I had already imagined +you; my poems were all addressed to you. My own sweet ideal that none +knew of but myself. You shall come and see me all the summer through, +in this room--our room. When will you come again?" + +"I shall never come again--it is time to go." + +"To go! Why, you haven't kissed me yet!" + +"I do not intend to kiss you." + +"How cruel of you! You say you will never come and see me again; you +break and destroy my dream." + +"How did you dream of me?" + +"I dreamed the world was buried in snow, barred with frost--that I +never went out, but sat here waiting for you to come. I dreamed that +you came to see me on regular days. I saw myself writing poems to +you, looking up to see the clock from time to time. Tea and wine were +ready, and the room was scented with your favourite perfume. Ting! +How the bell thrilled me, and with what precipitation I rushed to the +door! There I found you. What pleasure to lead you to the great fire, +to help you to take off your pelisse!" + +The girl looked at him, her eyes full of innocent wonderment. + +"How can you think of such things? It sounds like a fairy tale. And +if it were summer-time?" + +"Oh! if it were summer we should have roses in the room, and only a +falling rose-leaf should remind us of the imperceptible passing of +the hours. We should want no books, the picturesqueness of the river +would be enough. And holding your little palm in mine, so silken and +delicately moist, I would draw close to you." + +Knowing his skin was delicate to the touch, he took her arm in his +hand, but she drew her arm away, and there was incipient denial in +the withdrawal. His face clouded. But he had not yet made up his mind +how he should act, and to gain time to think, he said-- + +"Tell me why you thought of entering a convent?" + +"I was not happy at home, and the convent, with its prayers and +duties, seemed preferable. But it was not quite the same as I had +imagined, and I couldn't learn to forget that there was a world of +beauty, colour, and love." + +"You could not but think of the world of men that awaited you." + +"I only thought of Him." + +"And who was he?" + +"Ah! He was a very great saint, a greater saint than you'll ever be. +I fell in love with Him when I was quite a little girl." + +"What was his name?" + +"I am not going to tell you. It was for Him I went into the convent; +I was determined to be His bride in heaven. I used to read His life, +and think of Him all day long. I had a friend who was also in love, +but the reverend mother heard of our conversations, and we were +forbidden to speak any more of our saints." + +"Tell me his name? Was he anything like me?" + +"Well, perhaps there is a something in the eyes." + +The conversation dropped, and he laid his hand gently upon her foot. +Drawing it back she spilt the wine. + +"I must go." + +"No, dearest, you must not." + +She looked round, taking the room in one swift circular glance, her +eyes resting one moment on the crucifix. + +"This is cruel of you," he said. "I dreamed of you madly, and why do +you destroy my dream? What shall I do?--where shall I go?--how shall +I live if I don't get you?" + +"Men do not mind whom they love; even in the convent we knew that." + +"You seem to have known a good deal in that convent; I am not +astonished that you left it." + +"What do you mean?" She settled her shawl on her shoulders. + +"Merely this; you are in a young man's room alone, and I love you." + +"Love! You profane the word; loose me, I am going." + +"No, you are not going, you must remain." There was an occasional +nature in him, that of the vicious dog, and now it snarled. "If you +did not love me, you should not have come here," he said interposing, +getting between her and the door. + +Then she entreated him to let her go. He laughed at her; then +suddenly her face flamed with a passion he was unprepared for, and +her eyes danced with strange lights. Few words were spoken, only a +few ejaculatory phrases such as "How dare you?" "Let me go!" she +said, as she strove to wrench her arms from his grasp. She caught up +one of the glasses; but before she could throw it Mike seized her +hand; he could not take it from her, and unconscious of danger (for +if the glass broke both would be cut to the bone), she clenched it +with a force that seemed impossible in one so frail. Her rage was +like wildfire. Mike grew afraid, and preferring that the glass should +be thrown than it should break in his hand, he loosed his fingers. It +smashed against the opposite wall. He hoped that Frank had not heard; +that he had left the chambers. He seized the second glass. When she +raised her arm, Mike saw and heard the shattered window falling into +the court below. He anticipated the porter's steps on the staircase +and his knock at the door, and it was with an intense relief and +triumph that he saw the bottle strike the curtain and fall harmless. +He would win yet. Lily screamed piercingly. + +"No one will hear," he said, laughing hoarsely. + +She escaped him and she screamed three times. And now quite like a +mad woman, she snatched a light chair and rushed to the window. Her +frail frame shook, her thin face was swollen, and she seemed to have +lost control over her eyes. If she should die! If she should go mad! +Now really terrified, Mike prayed for forgiveness. She did not +answer; she stood clenching her hands, choking. + +"Sit down," he said, "drink something. You need not be afraid of me +now--do as you like, I am your servant. I will ask only one thing of +you--forgiveness. If you only knew!" + +"Don't speak to me!" she gasped, "don't!" + +"Forgive me, I beseech you; I love you better than all the world." + +"Don't touch me! How dare you? Oh! how dare you?" + +Mike watched her quivering. He saw she was sublime in her rage, and +torn with desire and regret he continued his pleadings. It was some +time before she spoke. + +"And it was for this," she said, "I left my convent, and it was of +him I used to dream! Oh! how bitter is my awakening!" + +She grasped one of the thin columns of the bed and her attitude +bespoke the revulsion of feeling that was passing in her soul; +beneath the heavy curtains she stood pale all over, thrown by the +shock of too coarse a reality. His perception of her innocence was a +goad to his appetite, and his despair augmented at losing her. Now, +as died the fulgurant rage that had supported her, and her normal +strength being exhausted, a sudden weakness intervened, and she +couldn't but allow Mike to lead her to a seat. + +"I am sorry; words cannot tell you how sorry I am. Why do you tremble +so? You are not going to faint, say--drink something." Hastily he +poured out some wine and held it to her lips. "I never was sorry +before; now I know what sorrow is--I am sorry, Lily. I am not ashamed +of my tears; look at them, and strive to understand. I never loved +till I saw you. Ah! that lily face, when I saw it beneath the white +veil, love leaped into my soul. Then I hated religion, and I longed +to scale the sky to dispossess Heaven of that which I held the one +sacred and desirable thing--you! My soul! I would have given it to +burn for ten thousand years for one kiss, one touch of these +snow-coloured hands. When I saw, or thought I saw, that you loved me, +I was God. I said on reading your sweet letter, 'My life shall not +pass without kissing at least once the lips of my chimera.'" + +Words and images rose in his mind without sensation or effort, and +experiencing the giddiness and exultation of the orator, he strove to +win her with eloquence. And all his magnetism was in his hands and +eyes--deep blue eyes full of fire and light were fixed upon +her--hands, soft yet powerful hands held hers, sometimes were +clenched on hers, and a voice which seemed his soul rose and fell, +striving to sting her with passionate sound; but she remained +absorbed in, and could not be drawn out of, angry thought. + +"Now you are with me," he said, "nearly mine; here I see you like a +picture that is mine. Around us is mighty London. I saved you from +God, am I to lose you to Man? This was the prospect that faced me, +that faces me, that drove me mad. All I did was to attempt to make +you mine. I hold you by so little--I could not bear the thought that +you might pass from me. A ship sails away, growing indistinct, and +then disappears in the shadows; in London a cab rattles, appears and +disappears behind other cabs, turns a corner, and is lost for ever. I +failed, but had I succeeded you would have come back to me; I failed, +is not that punishment enough? You will go from me; I shall not get +you--that is sorrow enough for me; do not refuse me forgiveness. Ah! +if you knew what it is to have sought love passionately, the high +hopes entertained, and then the depth of every deception, and now +the supreme grief of finding love and losing. Seeing love leave me +without leaving one flying feather for token, I strove to pluck +one--that is my crime. Go, since you must go, but do not go +unforgiving, lest perhaps you might regret." + +Lily did not cry. Her indignation was vented in broken phrases, the +meaning of which she did not seem to realize, and so jarred and +shaken were her nerves that without being aware of it her talk +branched into observations on her mother, her home life, the convent, +and the disappointments of childhood. So incoherently did she speak +that for a moment Mike feared her brain was affected, and his efforts +to lead her to speak of the present were fruitless. But suddenly, +waxing calm, her inner nature shining through the eyes like light +through porcelain, she said-- + +"I was wrong to come here, but I imagined men different. We know so +little of the world in the convent.... Ah, I should have stayed +there. It may be but a poor delusion, but it is better than such +wickedness." + +"But I love you." + +"Love me! ... You say you have sought love; we find love in +contemplation and desire of higher things. I am wanting in +experience, but I know that love lives in thought, and not in violent +passion; I know that a look from the loved one on entering a room, +a touch of a hand at most will suffice, and I should have been +satisfied to have seen your windows, and I should have gone away, my +heart stored with impressions of you, and I should have been happy +for weeks in the secret possession of such memories. So I have always +understood love; so we understood love in the convent." + +They were standing face to face in the faint twilight and scent of +the bedroom. Through the gauze blind the river floated past, +decorative and grand; the great hay-boats rose above the wharfs and +steamers; one lay in the sun's silver casting a black shadow; a barge +rowed by one man drifted round and round in the tide. + +"When I knelt in the choir I lifted my heart to the saint I loved. +How far was He from me? Millions of miles!--and yet He was very near. +I dreamed of meeting Him in heaven, of seeing Him come robed in white +with a palm in His hand, and then in a little darkness and dimness I +felt Him take me to His breast. I loved to read of the miracles He +performed, and one night I dreamed I saw Him in my cell--or was it +you?" + +All anger was gone from her face, and it reflected the play of her +fancy. "I used to pray to you to come down and speak to me." + +"And now," said Mike, smiling, "now that I have come to you, now that +I call you, now that I hold my arms to you--you the bride-elect--now +that the hour has come, shall I not possess you?" + +"Do you think you can gain love by clasping me to your bosom? My +love, though separated from me by a million miles, is nearer to me +than yours has ever been." + +"Did you not speak of me as the lover of your prayer, and you said +that in ecstasy the nuns--and indeed it must be so--exchange a +gibbeted saint for some ideal man? Give yourself; make this afternoon +memorable." + +"No; good-bye! Remember your promises. Come; I am going." + +"I must not lose you," he cried, drunk with her beauty and doubly +drunk with her sensuous idealism. "May I not even kiss you?" + +"Well, if you like--once, just here," she said, pointing where white +melted to faint rose. + +Mastered, he followed her down the long stairs; but when they passed +into the open air he felt he had lost her irrevocably. The river was +now tinted with setting light, the balustrade of Waterloo Bridge +showed like lace-work, the glass roofing of Charing Cross station was +golden, and each spire distinct upon the moveless blue. The splashing +of a steamer sounded strange upon his ears. The "Citizen" passed! She +was crowded with human beings, all apparently alike. Then the eye +separated them. An old lady making her way down the deck, a young man +in gray clothes, a red soldier leaning over the rail, the captain +walking on the bridge. + +Mike called a hansom; a few seconds more and she would pass from him +into London. He saw the horse's hooves, saw the cab appear and +disappear behind other cabs; it turned a corner, and she was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Seven hours had elapsed since he had parted from Lily Young, and +these seven hours he had spent in restaurants and music-halls, +seeking in dissipation surcease of sorrow and disappointment. He had +dined at Lubi's, and had gone on with Lord Muchross and Lord Snowdown +to the Royal, and they had returned in many hansoms and with many +courtesans to drink at Lubi's. But his heart was not in gaiety, and +feeling he could neither break a hat joyously nor allow his own to be +broken good-humouredly, nor even sympathize with Dicky, the driver, +who had not been sober since Monday, he turned and left the place. + +"This is why fellows marry," he said, when he returned home, and sat +smoking in the shadows--he had lighted only one lamp--depressed by +the loneliness of the apartment. And more than an hour passed before +he heard Frank's steps. Frank was in evening dress; he opened his +cigarette-case, lighted a cigarette, and sat down willing to be +amused. Mike told him the entire story with gestures and descriptive +touches; on the right was the bed with its curtains hanging superbly, +on the left the great hay-boats filling the window; and by insisting +on the cruelest aspects, he succeeded in rendering it almost +unbearable. But Frank had dined well, and as Lizzie had promised +to come to breakfast he was in excellent humour, and on the whole +relished the tale. He was duly impressed and interested by the +subtlety of the fancy which made Lily tell how she used to identify +her ideal lover while praying to Him, Him with the human ideal which +had led her from the cloister, and which she had come to seek in the +world. He was especially struck with, and he admired the conclusion +of, the story, for Mike had invented a dramatic and effective ending. + +"Well-nigh mad, drunk with her beauty and the sensuous charm of her +imagination, I threw my arms about her. I felt her limbs against +mine, and I said, 'I am mad for you; give yourself to me, and make +this afternoon memorable.' There was a faint smile of reply in her +eyes. They laughed gently, and she said, 'Well, perhaps I do love you +a little.'" + +Frank was deeply impressed by Mike's tact and judgement, and they +talked of women, discussing each shade of feminine morality through +the smoke of innumerable cigarettes; and after each epigram they +looked in each other's eyes astonished at their genius and +originality. Then Mike spoke of the paper and the articles that would +have to be written on the morrow. He promised to get to work early, +and they said good-night. + +When Frank left Southwick two years ago and pursued Lizzie Baker to +London, he had found her in straitened circumstances and unable to +obtain employment. The first night he took her out to dinner and +bought her a hat, on the second he bought her a gown, and soon after +she became his mistress. Henceforth his days were devoted to her; +they were seen together in all popular restaurants, and in the +theatres. One day she went to see some relations, and Frank had to +dine alone. He turned into Lubini's, but to his annoyance the only +table available was one which stood next where Mike Fletcher was +dining. "That fellow dining here," thought Frank, "when he ought to +be digging potatoes in Ireland." But the accident of the waiter +seeking for a newspaper forced him to say a few words, and Mike +talked so agreeably that at the end of dinner they went out together +and walked up and down, talking on journalism and women. + +Suddenly the last strand of Frank's repugnance to make a friend of +Mike broke, and he asked him to come up to his rooms and have a +drink. They remained talking till daybreak, and separated as friends +in the light of the empty town. Next day they dined together, and a +few days after Frank and Lizzie breakfasted with Mike at his +lodgings. But during the next month they saw very little of him, and +this pause in the course of dining and journalistic discussion, +indicating, as Frank thought it did, a coolness on Mike's part, +determined the relation of these two men. When they ran against each +other in the corridor of a theatre, Frank eagerly button-holed Mike, +and asked him why he had not been to dine at Lubini's, and not +suspecting that he dined there only when he was in funds, was +surprised at his evasive answers. Mistress and lover were equally +anxious to know why they had not been able to find him in any of the +usual haunts; he urged a press of work, but it transpired he was +harassed by creditors, and was looking out for rooms. Frank told +him he was thinking of moving into the Temple. + +"Lucky fellow! I wish I could afford to live there." + +"I wish you could.... The apartment I have in mind is too large for +me, you might take the half of it." + +Mike knew where his comforts lay, and he accepted his friend's offer. +There they founded, and there they edited, the _Pilgrim_, a weekly +sixpenny paper devoted to young men, their doings, their amusements, +their literature, and their art. Under their dual editorship this +journal had prospered; it now circulated five thousand a week, and +published twelve pages of advertisements. Frank, whose bent was +hospitality, was therefore able to entertain his friends as it +pleased him, and his rooms were daily and nightly filled with +revelling lords, comic vocalists, and chorus girls. Mike often craved +for other amusements and other society. Temple Gardens was but one +page in the book of life, and every page in that book was equally +interesting to him. He desired all amusements, to know all things, to +be loved by every one; and longing for new sensations of life, he +often escaped to the Cock tavern for a quiet dinner with some young +barristers, and a quiet smoke afterwards with them in their rooms. It +was there he had met John Norton. + +The _Pilgrim_ was composed of sixteen columns of paragraphs in which +society, art, and letters were dealt with--the form of expression +preferred being the most exaggerated. Indeed, the formula of +criticism that Mike and Frank, guided by Harding, had developed, was +to consider as worthless all that the world held in estimation, and +to laud as best all that world had agreed to discard. John Norton's +views regarding Latin literature had been adopted, and Virgil was +declared to be the great old bore of antiquity, and some three or +four quite unknown names, gathered amid the Fathers, were upon +occasion trailed in triumph with adjectives of praise. + +What painter of Madonnas does the world agree to consider as the +greatest? Raphael--Raphael was therefore decried as being scarcely +superior to Sir Frederick Leighton; and one of the early Italian +painters, Francesco Bianchi, whom Vasari exhumes in some three or +four lines, was praised as possessing a subtle and mysterious talent +very different indeed from the hesitating smile of La Jaconde. There +is a picture of the Holy Family by him in the Louvre, and of it +Harding wrote--"This canvas exhales for us the most delicious +emanations, sorrowful bewitchments, insidious sacrileges, and +troubled prayers." + +All institutions, especially the Royal Academy, St. Paul's Cathedral, +Drury Lane Theatre, and Eton College, were held to be the symbols of +man's earthiness, the bar-room and music-hall as certain proof of his +divine origin; actors were scorned and prize-fighters revered; the +genius of courtesans, the folly of education, and the poetry of +pantomime formed the themes on which the articles which made the +centre of the paper were written. Insolent letters were addressed to +eminent people, and a novel by Harding, the hero of which was a +butler and the heroine a cook, was in course of publication. + +Mike was about to begin a series of articles in this genial journal, +entitled _Lions of the Season_. His first lion was a young man who +had invented a pantomime, _Pierrot murders his Wife_, which he was +acting with success in fashionable drawing-rooms. A mute brings +Pierrot back more dead than alive from the cemetery, and throws him +in a chair. When Pierrot recovers he re-acts the murder before a +portrait of his wife--how he tied her down and tickled her to death. +Then he begins drinking, and finally sets fire to the curtains of the +bed and is burnt. + +It was the day before publishing day, and since breakfast the young +men had been drinking, smoking, telling tales, and writing +paragraphs; from time to time the page-boy brought in proofs, and +the narrators made pause till he had left the room. Frank continued +reading Mike's manuscript, now and then stopping to praise a +felicitous epithet. + +At last he said--"Harding, what do you think of this?--'The Sphynx is +representative of the grave and monumental genius of Egypt, the Faun +of the gracious genius of Rome, the Pierrot of the fantastic genius +of the Renaissance. And, in this one creation, I am not sure that +the seventeenth does not take the palm from the earlier centuries. +Pierrot!--there is music, there is poetry in the name. The soul of an +epoch lives in that name, evocative as it is of shadowy trees, lawny +spaces, brocade, pointed bodices, high heels and guitars. And in +expression how much more perfect is he than his ancestor, the Faun! +His animality is indicated without coarse or awkward symbolism; +without cloven hoof or hirsute ears--only a white face, a long white +dress with large white buttons, and a black skull-cap; and yet, +somehow, the effect is achieved. The great white creature is not +quite human--hereditary sin has not descended upon him; he is not +quite responsible for his acts.'" + +"I like the paragraph," said Harding; "you finish up, of course, with +the apotheosis of pantomimists, and announce him as one of the lions +of the season. Who are your other lions and lionesses?" + +"The others will be far better," said Mike. He took a cigarette from +a silver box on the table, and, speaking as he puffed at it, entered +into the explanation of his ideas. + +Mademoiselle D'Or, the _première danseuse_ who had just arrived from +Vienna, was to be the lioness of next week. Mike told how he would +translate into words the insidious poetry of the blossom-like skirt +that the pink body pierces like a stem, the beautiful springing, +the lifted arms, then the flight from the wings; the posturing, the +artificial smiles; this art a survival of Oriental tradition; this +art at once so carnal and so enthusiastically ideal. "A prize-fighter +will follow the _danseuse_. And I shall gloat in Gautier-like +cadence--if I can catch it--over each superb muscle and each splendid +development. But my best article will be on Kitty Carew. Since Laura +Bell and Mabel Grey our courtesans have been but a mediocre lot." + +"You must not say that in the _Pilgrim_--we should offend all our +friends," Harding said, and he poured himself out a brandy-and-soda. + +Mike laughed, and walking up and down the room, he continued-- + +"That it should be so is inexplicable, that it is so is certain; we +have not had since Mabel Grey died a courtesan whom a foreign prince, +passing London, would visit as a matter of course as he would visit +St. Paul's or Westminster Abbey; and yet London has advanced +enormously in all that constitutes wealth and civilization. In Paris, +as in ancient Greece, courtesans are rich, brilliant, and depraved; +here in London the women are poor, stupid, and almost virtuous. Kitty +is revolution. I know for a fact that she has had as much as £1000 +from a foreign potentate, and she spends in one day upon her +tiger-cat what would keep a poor family in affluence for a week. Nor +can she say half a dozen words without being witty. What do you think +of this? We were discussing the old question, if it were well for a +woman to have a sweetheart. Kitty said, 'London has given me +everything but that. I can always find a man who will give me five +and twenty guineas, but a sweetheart I can't find.'" + +Every pen stopped, and expectation was on every face. After a pause +Mike continued-- + +"Kitty said, 'In the first place he must please me, and I am very +difficult to please; then I must please him, and sufficiently for him +to give up his whole time to me. And he must not be poor, for +although he would not give me money, it would cost him several +hundreds a year to invite me to dinner and send me flowers. And where +am I to find this combination of qualities?' Can't you hear her +saying it, her sweet face like a tea-rose, those innocent blue eyes +all laughing with happiness? The great stockbroker, who has been with +her for the last ten years, settled fifty thousand pounds when he +first took her up. She was speaking to me about him the other day, +and when I said, 'Why didn't you leave him when the money was +settled?' she said, 'Oh no, I wouldn't do a dirty trick like that; +I contented myself simply by being unfaithful to him.'" + +"This is no doubt very clever, but if you put all you have told us +into your article, you'll certainly have the paper turned off the +book-stalls." + +The conversation paused. Every one finished his brandy-and-soda, and +the correction of proofs was continued in silence, interrupted only +by an occasional oath or a word of remonstrance from Frank, who +begged Drake, a huge-shouldered man, whose hand was never out of the +cigarette-box, not to drop the lighted ends on the carpet. Mike was +reading Harding's article. + +"I think we shall have a good number this week," said Mike. "But we +want a piece of verse. I wonder if you could get something from John +Norton. What do you think of Norton, Harding?" + +"He is one of the most interesting men I know. His pessimism, his +Catholicism, his yearning for ritual, his very genuine hatred of +women, it all fascinates me." + +"What do you think of that poem he told us of the other night?" + +"Intensely interesting; but he will never be able to complete it. A +man may be full of talent and yet be nothing of an artist; a man may +be far less clever than Norton, and with a subtler artistic sense. If +a seal had really something to say, I believe it would find a way of +saying it; but has John Norton really got any idea so overwhelmingly +new and personal that it would force a way of utterance where none +existed? The Christian creed with its tale of Mary must be of all +creeds most antipathetic to his natural instincts, he nevertheless +accepts it.... If you agitate a pool from different sides you must +stir up mud, and this is what occurs in Norton's brain; it is +agitated equally from different sides, and the result is mud." + +Mike looked at Harding inquiringly, for a moment wondered if the +novelist understood him as he seemed to understand Norton. + +A knock was heard, and Norton entered. His popularity was visible in +the pleasant smiles and words which greeted him. + +"You are just the man we want," cried Frank. "We want to publish one +of your poems in the paper this week." + +"I have burnt my poems," he answered, with something more of +sacerdotal tone and gesture than usual. + +All the scribblers looked up. "You don't mean to say seriously that +you have burnt your poems?" + +"Yes; but I do not care to discuss my reasons. You do not feel as I +do." + +"You mean to say that you have burnt _The Last Struggle_--the poem +you told us about the other night?" + +"Yes, I felt I could not reconcile its teaching, or I should say the +tendency of its teaching, to my religion. I do not regret--besides, I +had to do it; I felt I was going off my head. I should have gone mad. +I have been through agonies. I could not think. Thought and pain and +trouble were as one in my brain. I heard voices.... I had to do it. +And now a great calm has come. I feel much better." + +"You are a curious chap." + +Then at the end of a long silence John said, as if he wished to +change the conversation-- + +"Even though I did burn my pessimistic poem, the world will not go +without one. You are writing a poem on Schopenhauer's philosophy. +It is hard to associate pessimism with you." + +"Only because you take the ordinary view of the tendency of +pessimistic teaching," said Mike. "If you want a young and laughing +world, preach Schopenhauer at every street corner; if you want a +sober utilitarian world, preach Comte." + +"Doesn't much matter what the world is as long as it is not sober," +chuckled Platt, the paragraph-writing youth at the bottom of the +table. + +"Hold your tongue!" cried Drake, and he lighted another cigarette +preparatory to fixing his whole attention on the paradox that Mike +was about to enounce. + +"The optimist believes in the regeneration of the race, in its +ultimate perfectibility, the synthesis of humanity, the providential +idea, and the path of the future; he therefore puts on a shovel hat, +cries out against lust, and depreciates prostitution." + +"Oh, the brute!" chuckled the wizen youth, "without prostitutes and +public-houses! what a world to live in!" + +"The optimist counsels manual labour for all. The pessimist believes +that forgetfulness and nothingness is the whole of man. He says, 'I +defy the wisest of you to tell me why I am here, and being here, what +good is gained by my assisting to bring others here.' The pessimist +is therefore the gay Johnny, and the optimist is the melancholy +Johnny. The former drinks champagne and takes his 'tart' out to +dinner, the latter says that life is not intended to be happy +in--that there is plenty of time to rest when you are dead." + +John laughed loudly; but a moment after, reassuming his look of +admonition, he asked Mike to tell him about his poem. + +"The subject is astonishingly beautiful," said Mike; "I only speak of +the subject; no one, not even Victor Hugo or Shelley, ever conceived +a finer theme. But they had execution, I have only the idea. I +suppose the world to have ended; but ended, how? Man has at last +recognized that life is, in equal parts, misery and abomination, and +has resolved that it shall cease. The tide of passion has again +risen, and lashed by repression to tenfold fury, the shores of life +have again been strewn with new victims; but knowledge--calm, +will-less knowledge--has gradually invaded all hearts; and the +restless, shifting sea (which is passion) shrinks to its furthest +limits. + +"There have been Messiahs, there have been persecutions, but the Word +has been preached unintermittently. Crowds have gathered to listen +to the wild-eyed prophets. You see them on the desert promontories, +preaching that human life must cease; they call it a disgraceful +episode in the life of one of the meanest of the planets--you see +them hunted and tortured as were their ancestors, the Christians of +the reign of Diocletian. You see them entering cottage doors and +making converts in humble homes. The world, grown tired of vain +misery, accepts oblivion. + +"The rage and the seething of the sea is the image I select to +represent the struggle for life. The dawn is my image for the +diffusion and triumph of sufficient reason. In a couple of hundred +lines I have set my scene, and I begin. It is in the plains of +Normandy; of countless millions only two friends remain. One of them +is dying. As the stars recede he stretches his hand to his companion, +breathes once more, looking him in the face, joyous in the attainment +of final rest. A hole is scraped, and the last burial is achieved. +Then the man, a young beautiful man with the pallor of long vigils +and spiritual combat upon his face, arises. + +"The scene echoes strangely the asceticism that produced it. +Rose-garden and vineyard are gone; there are no fields, nor +hedgerows, nor gables seen picturesquely on a sky, human with smoke +mildly ascending. A broken wall that a great elm tears and rends, +startles the silence; apple-orchards spread no flowery snow, and the +familiar thrushes have deserted the moss-grown trees, in other times +their trees; and the virgin forest ceases only to make bleak place +for marish plains with lonely pools and stagnating streams, where +perchance a heron rises on blue and heavy wings. + +"All the beautiful colours the world had worn when she was man's +mistress are gone, and now, as if mourning for her lover and lord, +she is clad only in sombre raiment. Since her lord departed she bears +but scanty fruit, and since her lover left her, she that was glad has +grown morose; her joy seems to have died with his; and the feeling of +gloom is heightened, when at the sound of the man's footsteps a pack +of wild dogs escape from a ruin, where they have been sleeping, and +wake the forest with lugubrious yelps and barks. About the dismantled +porches no single rose--the survival of roses planted by some fair +woman's hand--remains to tell that man was once there--worked there +for his daily bread, seeking a goodness and truth in life which was +not his lot to attain. + +"There are few open spaces, and the man has to follow the tracks of +animals. Sometimes he comes upon a herd of horses feeding in a glade; +they turn and look upon him in a round-eyed surprise, and he sees +them galloping on the hill-sides, their manes and tails floating in +the wind. + +"Paris is covered with brushwood, and trees and wood from the shore +have torn away the bridges, of which only a few fragments remain. Dim +and desolate are those marshes now in the twilight shedding. + +"The river swirls through multitudinous ruins, lighted by a crescent +moon; clouds hurry and gather and bear away the day. The man stands +like a saint of old, who, on the last verge of the desert, turns and +smiles upon the world he conquered. + +"The great night collects and advances in shadow; and wandering +vapour, taking fire in the darkness, rolls, tumbling over and over +like fiery serpents, through loneliness and reeds. + +"But in the eternal sunshine of the South flowers have not become +extinct; winds have carried seeds hither and thither, and the earth +has waxed lovely, and the calm of the spiritual evenings of the +Adriatic descend upon eternal perfume and the songs of birds. Symbol +of pain or joy there is none, and the august silence is undisturbed +by tears. From rotting hangings in Venice rats run, and that idle +wave of palace-stairs laps in listless leisure the fallen glories of +Veronese. As it is with painters so it is with poets, and wolf cubs +tear the pages of the last _Divine Comedy_ in the world. Rome is his +great agony, her shameful history falls before his eyes like a +painted curtain. All the inner nature of life is revealed to him, and +he sees into the heart of things as did Christ in the Garden of +Gethsemane--Christ, that most perfect symbol of the denial of the +will to live; and, like Christ, he cries that the world may pass from +him. + +"But in resignation, hatred and horror vanish, and he muses again on +the more than human redemption, the great atonement that man has made +for his shameful life's history; and standing amid the orange and +almond trees, amid a profusion of bloom that the world seems to have +brought for thank-offering, amid an apparent and glorious victory of +inanimate nature, he falls down in worship of his race that had +freely surrendered all, knowing it to be nothing, and in surrender +had gained all. + +"In that moment of intense consciousness a cry breaks the stillness, +and searching among the marbles he finds a dying woman. Gathering +some fruit, he gives her to eat, and they walk together, she +considering him as saviour and lord, he wrapped in the contemplation +of the end. They are the end, and all paling fascination, which is +the world, is passing from them, and they are passing from it. And +the splendour of gold and red ascends and spreads--crown and raiment +of a world that has regained its primal beauty. + +"'We are alone,' the woman says. 'The world is ours; we are as king +and queen, and greater than any king or queen.' + +"Her dark olive skin changes about the neck like a fruit near to +ripen, and the large arms, curving deeply, fall from the shoulder in +superb indolences of movement, and the hair, varying from burnt-up +black to blue, curls like a fleece adown the shoulders. She is large +and strong, a fitting mother of man, supple in the joints as the +young panther that has just bounded into the thickets; and her rich +almond eyes, dark, and moon-like in their depth of mystery, are fixed +on him. Then he awakes to the danger of the enchantment; but she +pleads that they, the last of mankind, may remain watching over each +other till the end; and seeing his eyes flash, her heart rejoices. +And out of the glare of the moon they passed beneath the sycamores. +And listening to the fierce tune of the nightingales in the dusky +daylight there, temptation hisses like a serpent; and the woman +listens, and drawing herself about the man, she says-- + +"'The world is ours; let us make it ours for ever; let us give birth +to a new race more great and beautiful than that which is dead. Love +me, for I am love; all the dead beauties of the race are incarnate in +me. I am the type and epitome of all. Was the Venus we saw yesterday +among the myrtles more lovely than I?' + +"But he casts her from him, asking in despair (for he loves her) if +they are to renew the misery and abomination which it required all +the courage and all the wisdom of all the ages to subdue? He calls +names from love's most fearful chronicle--Cleopatra, Faustina, +Borgia. A little while and man's shameful life will no longer disturb +the silence of the heavens. But no perception of life's shame touches +the heart of the woman. 'I am love,' she cries again. 'Take me, and +make me the mother of men. In me are incarnate all the love songs of +the world. I am Beatrice; I am Juliet. I shall be all love to +you--Fair Rosamond and Queen Eleanor. I am the rose! I am the +nightingale!' + +"She follows him in all depths of the forests wherever he may go. In +the white morning he finds her kneeling by him, and in blue and rose +evening he sees her whiteness crouching in the brake. He has fled to +a last retreat in the hills where he thought she could not follow, +and after a long day of travel lies down. But she comes upon him in +his first sleep, and with amorous arms uplifted, and hair shed to the +knee, throws herself upon him. It is in the soft and sensual scent of +the honeysuckle. The bright lips strive, and for an instant his soul +turns sick with famine for the face; but only for an instant, and in +a supreme revulsion of feeling he beseeches her, crying that the +world may not end as it began, in blood. But she heeds him not, and +to save the generations he dashes her on the rocks. + +"Man began in bloodshed, in bloodshed he has ended. + +"Standing against the last tinge of purple, he gazes for a last time +upon the magnificence of a virgin world, seeing the tawny forms of +lions in the shadows, watching them drinking at the stream." + +"Adam and Eve at the end of the world," said Drake. "A very pretty +subject; but I distinctly object to an Eve with black hair. Eve and +golden hair have ever been considered inseparable things." + +"That's true," said Platt; "the moment my missis went wrong her hair +turned yellow." + +Mike joined in the jocularity, but at the first pause he asked Escott +what he thought of his poem. + +"I have only one fault to find. Does not the _dénouement_ seem too +violent? Would it not be better if the man were to succeed in +escaping from her, and then vexed with scruples to return and find +her dead? What splendid lamentations over the body of the last +woman!--and as the man wanders beneath the waxing and waning moon he +hears nature lamenting the last woman. Mountains, rocks, forests, +speak to him only of her." + +"Yes, that would do.... But no--what am I saying? Such a conclusion +would be in exact contradiction to the philosophy of my poem. For it +is man's natural and inveterate stupidity (Schopenhauer calls it +Will) that forces man to live and continue his species. Reason is the +opposing force. As time goes on reason becomes more and more +complete, until at last it turns upon the will and denies it, like +the scorpion, which, if surrounded by a ring of fire, will turn and +sting itself to death. Were the man to escape, and returning find the +woman dead, it would not be reason but accident which put an end to +this ridiculous world." + +Seeing that attention was withdrawn from him Drake filled his pockets +with cigarettes, split a soda with Platt, and seized upon the +entrance of half a dozen young men as an excuse for ceasing to write +paragraphs. Although it had only struck six they were all in evening +dress. They were under thirty, and in them elegance and dissipation +were equally evident. Lord Muchross, a clean-shaven Johnnie, walked +at the head of the gang, assuming by virtue of his greater volubility +a sort of headship. Dicky, the driver, a stout commoner, spoke of +drink; and a languid blonde, Lord Snowdown, leaned against the +chimney-piece displaying a thin figure. The others took seats and +laughed whenever Lord Muchross spoke. + +"Here we are, old chappie, just in time to drink to the health of the +number. Ha, ha, ha! What damned libel have you in this week? Ha, ha!" + +"Awful bad head, a heavy day yesterday," said Dicky--"drunk blind." + +"Had to put him in a wheelbarrow, wheeled him into a greengrocer's +shop, put a carrot in his mouth, and rang the bell," shouted +Muchross. + +"Ha, ha, ha!" shouted the others. + +"Had a rippin' day all the same, didn't we, old Dicky? Went up the +river in Snowdown's launch. Had lunch by Tag's Island, went as far as +Datchet. There we met Dicky; he tooted us round by Staines. There we +got in a fresh team, galloped all the way to Houndslow. Laura brought +her sister. Kitty was with us. Made us die with a story she told us +of a fellow she was spoony on. Had to put him under the bed.... +Ghastly joke, dear boy!" + +Amid roars of laughter Dicky's voice was heard-- + +"She calls him Love's martyr; he nearly died of bronchitis, and +became a priest. Kitty swears she'll go to confession to him one of +these days." + +"By Jove, if she does I'll publish it in the _Pilgrim_." + +"Too late this week," Mike said to Frank. + +"We got to town by half past six, went round to the Cri. to have a +sherry-and-bitters, dined at the Royal, went on to the Pav., and on +with all the girls in hansoms, four in each, to Snowdown's." + +"See me dance the polka, dear boy," cried the languid lord, awaking +suddenly from his indolence, and as he pranced across the room most +of his drink went over Drake's neck; and amid oaths and laughter +Escott besought of the revellers to retire. + +"We are still four columns short, we must get on." And for an hour +and a half the scratching of the pens was only interrupted by the +striking of a match and an occasional damn. At six they adjourned to +the office. They walked along the Strand swinging their sticks, full +of consciousness of a day's work done. Drake and Platt, who had +avenged some private wrongs in their paragraphs, were disturbed by +the fear of libel; Harding gnawed the end of his moustache, and +reconsidered his attack on a contemporary writer, pointing his gibes +afresh. + +They trooped up-stairs, the door was thrown open. It was a small +office, and at the end of the partitioned space a clerk sat in front +of a ledger on a high stool, his face against the window. Lounging on +the counter, turning over the leaves of back numbers, they discussed +the advertisements. They stood up when Lady Helen entered. [Footnote: +See _A Modern Lover_.] She had come to speak to Frank about a poem, +and she only paused in her rapid visit to shake hands with Harding, +and she asked Mike if his poems would be published that season. + +The contributors to the _Pilgrim_ dined together on Wednesday, and +spent four shillings a head in an old English tavern, where unlimited +joint and vegetables could be obtained for half-a-crown. The +old-fashioned boxes into which the guests edged themselves had not +been removed, and about the mahogany bar, placed in the passage in +front of the proprietress's parlour, two dingy barmaids served actors +from the adjoining theatre with whisky-and-water. The contributors to +the _Pilgrim_ had selected a box, and were clamouring for food. +Smacking his lips, the head-waiter, an antiquity who cashed cheques +and told stories about Mr. Dickens and Mr. Thackeray, stopped in +front of this table. + +"Roast beef, very nice--a nice cut, sir; saddle of mutton just up." + +All decided for saddle of mutton. + +"Saddle of mutton, number three." + +Greasy and white the carver came, and as if the meat were a delight +the carver sliced it out. Some one remarked this. + +"That is nothing," said Thompson; "you should hear Hopkins grunting +as he cuts the venison on Tuesdays and Fridays, and how he sucks his +lips as he ladles out the gravy. We only enjoy a slice or two, +whereas his pleasure ends only with the haunch." + +The evening newspapers were caught up, glanced at, and abused as +worthless rags, and the editors covered with lively ridicule. + +The conversation turned on Boulogne, where Mike had loved many +solicitors' wives, and then on the impurity of the society girl and +the prurient purity of her creation--the "English" novel. + +"I believe that it is so," said Harding; "and in her immorality we +find the reason for all this bewildering outcry against the slightest +license in literature. Strange that in a manifestly impure age there +should be a national tendency towards chaste literature. I am not +sure that a moral literature does not of necessity imply much laxity +in practical morality. We seek in art what we do not find in +ourselves, and it would be true to nature to represent an unfortunate +woman delighting in reading of such purity as her own life daily +insulted and contradicted; and the novel is the rag in which this +leper age coquets before the mirror of its hypocrisy, rehearsing the +deception it would practise on future time." + +"You must consider the influence of impure literature upon young +people," said John. + +"No, no; the influence of a book is nothing; it is life that +influences and corrupts. I sent my story of a drunken woman to +Randall, and the next time I heard from him he wrote to say he had +married his mistress, and he knew she was a drunkard." + +"It is easy to prove that bad books don't do any harm; if they did, +by the same rule good books would do good, and the world would have +been converted long ago," said Frank. + +Harding thought how he might best appropriate the epigram, and when +the influence of the liberty lately acquired by girls had been +discussed--the right to go out shopping in the morning, to sit out +dances on dark stairs; in a word, the decadence and overthrow of the +chaperon--the conversation again turned on art. + +"It is very difficult," said Harding, "to be great as the old masters +were great. A man is great when every one is great. In the great ages +if you were not great you did not exist at all, but in these days +everything conspires to support the weak." + +Out of deference to John, who had worn for some time a very solid +look of disapproval, Mike ceased to discourse on half-hours passed on +staircases, and in summer-houses when the gardener had gone to +dinner, and he spoke about naturalistic novels and an exhibition of +pastels. + +"As time goes on, poetry, history, philosophy, will so multiply that +the day will come when the learned will not even know the names of +their predecessors. There is nothing that will not increase out of +all reckoning except the naturalistic novel. A man may write twenty +volumes of poetry, history, and philosophy, but a man will never be +born who will write more than two, at the most three, naturalistic +novels. The naturalistic novel is the essence of a phase of life +that the writer has lived in and assimilated. If you take into +consideration the difficulty of observing twice, of the time an +experience takes to ripen in you, you will easily understand +_à priori_ that the man will never be born who will write three +realistic novels." + +Coffee and cigars were ordered, and Harding extolled the charm and +grace of pastels. + +Thompson said--"I keep pastels for my hours of idleness--cowardly +hours, when I have no heart to struggle with nature, and may but +smile and kiss my hand to her at a distance. For dreaming I know +nothing like pastel; it is the painter's opium pipe.... Latour was +the greatest pastellist of the eighteenth century, and he never +attempted more than a drawing heightened with colour. But how +suggestive, how elegant, how well-bred!" + +Then in reply to some flattery on the personality of his art, +Thompson said, "It is strange, for I assure you no art was ever less +spontaneous than mine. What I do is the result of reflection and +study of the great masters; of inspiration, spontaneity, +temperament--temperament is the word--I know nothing. When I hear +people talk about temperament, it always seem to me like the strong +man in the fair, who straddles his legs, and asks some one to step +upon the palm of his hand." + +Drake joined in the discussion, and the chatter that came from this +enormous man was as small as his head, which sat like a pin's-head +above his shoulders. Platt drifted from the obscene into the +incomprehensible. The room was fast emptying, and the waiter +loitered, waiting to be paid. + +"We must be getting off," said Mike; "it is nearly eleven o'clock, +and we have still the best part of the paper to read through." + +"Don't be in such a damned hurry," said Frank, authoritatively. + +Harding bade them good-night at the door, and the editors walked down +Fleet Street. To pass up a rickety court to the printer's, or to go +through the stage-door to the stage, produced similar sensations +in Mike. The white-washed wall, the glare of the raw gas, the low +monotonous voice of the reading-boy, like one studying a part, or +perhaps like the murmur of the distant audience; the boy coming in +asking for "copy" or proof, like the call-boy, with his "Curtain's +going up, gentlemen." Is there not analogy between the preparation +of the paper that will be before the public in the morning, and the +preparation of the play that will be before its eyes in the evening? + +From the glass closet where they waited for the "pages," they could +see the compositors bending over the forms. The light lay upon a red +beard, a freckled neck, the crimson of the volutes of an ear. + +In the glass closet there were three wooden chairs, a table, and an +inkstand; on the shelf by the door a few books--the _London +Directory_, an _English Dictionary_, a _French Dictionary_--the +titles of the remaining books did not catch the eye. As they waited, +for no "pages" would be ready for them for some time, Mike glanced at +stray numbers of two trade journals. It seemed to him strange that +the same compositors who set up these papers should set up the +_Pilgrim_. + +Presently the "pages" began to come in, but long delays intervened, +and it transpired that some of the "copy" was not yet in type. Frank +grew weary, and he complained of headache, and asked Mike to see the +paper through for him. Mike thought Frank selfish, but there was no +help for it. He could not refuse, but must wait in the paraffin-like +smell of the ink, listening to the droning voice of the reading-boy. +If he could only get the proof of his poem he could kill time by +correcting it; but it could not be obtained. Two hours passed, and +he still sat watching the red beard of a compositor, and the crimson +volutes of an ear. At last the printer's devil, his short sleeves +rolled up, brought in a couple of pages. Mike read, following the +lines with his pen, correcting the literals, and he cursed when the +"devil" told him that ten more lines of copy were wanting to complete +page nine. What should he write? + +About two o'clock, holding her ball-skirts out of the dirt, a lady +entered. + +"How do you do, Emily?" said Mike. "Just fancy seeing you here, and +at this hour!" He was glad of the interruption; but his pleasure was +dashed by the fear that she would ask him to come home with her. + +"Oh, I have had such a pleasant party; So-and-so sang at Lady +Southey's. Oh, I have enjoyed myself! I knew I should find you here; +but I am interrupting. I will go." She put her arm round his neck. +He looked at her diamonds, and congratulated himself that she was +a lady. + +"I am afraid I am interrupting you," she said again. + +"Oh no, you aren't, I shall be done in half an hour; I have only got +a few more pages to read through. Escott went away, selfish brute +that he is, and has left me to do all the work." + +She sat by his side contentedly reading what he had written. At +half-past two all the pages were passed for press, and they descended +the spiral iron staircase, through the grease and vinegar smell of +the ink, in view of heads and arms of a hundred compositors, in +hearing of the drowsy murmur of the reading-boy. Her brougham was at +the door. As she stepped in Mike screwed up his courage and said +good-bye. + +"Won't you come?" she said, with disappointment in her eyes. + +"No, not to-night. I have been slaving at that paper for the last +four hours. Thanks; not to-night. Good-bye; I'll see you next week." + +The brougham rolled away, and Mike walked home. The hands of the +clocks were stretching towards three, and only a few drink-disfigured +creatures of thirty-five or forty lingered; so horrible were they +that he did not answer their salutations. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Mike was in his bath when Frank entered. + +"What, not dressed yet?" + +"All very well for you to talk. You left me at eleven to get the +paper out as best I could. I did not get away from the printer's +before half-past two." + +"I'm very sorry, but you've no idea how ill I felt. I really couldn't +have stayed on. I heard you come in. You weren't alone." + +The room was pleasant with the Eau de Lubin, and Mike's beautiful +figure appealed to Frank's artistic sense; and he noticed it in +relation to the twisted oak columns of the bed. The body, it was +smooth and white as marble; and the pectoral muscles were especially +beautiful when he leaned forward to wipe a lifted leg. He turned, and +the back narrowed like a leaf, and expanded in shapes as subtle. He +was really a superb animal as he stepped out of his bath. + +"I wish to heavens you'd dress. Leave off messing yourself about. +I want breakfast. Lizzie's waiting. What are you putting on those +clothes for? Where are you going?" + +"I am going to see Lily Young. She wrote to me this morning saying +she had her mother's permission to ask me to come." + +"She won't like you any better for all that scent and washing." + +"Which of these neckties do you like?" + +"I don't know.... I wish you'd be quick. Come on!" + +As he fixed his tie with a pearl pin he whistled the "Wedding March." +Catching Frank's eyes, he laughed and sang at the top of his voice as +he went down the passage. + +Lizzie was reading in one of the arm-chairs that stood by the high +chimney-piece tall with tiles and blue vases. The stiffness and glare +of the red cloth in which the room was furnished, contrasted with the +soft colour of the tapestry which covered one wall. The round table +shone with silver, and an agreeable smell of coffee and sausages +pervaded the room. Lizzie looked up astonished; but without giving +her time to ask questions, Mike seized her and rushed her up and +down. + +"Let me go! let me go!" she exclaimed. "Are you mad?" + +Frank caught up his fiddle. At last Lizzie wrenched herself from +Mike. + +"What do you mean? ... Such nonsense!" + +Laughing, Mike placed her in a chair, and uncovering a dish, said-- + +"What shall I give you this happy day?" + +"What do you mean? I don't like being pulled about." + +"You know what tune that is? That's the 'Wedding March.'" + +"Who's going to be married? Not you." + +"I don't know so much about that. At all events I am in love. The +sensation is delicious--like an ice or a glass of Chartreuse. Real +love--all the others were coarse passions--I feel it here, the +genuine article. You would not believe that I could fall in love." + +"Listen to me," said Lizzie. "You wouldn't talk like that if you were +in love." + +"I always talk; it relieves me. You have no idea how nice she is; so +frail, so white--a white blonde, a Seraphita. But you haven't read +Balzac; you do not know those white women of the North. '_Plus +blanche que la blanche hermine_,' etc. So pure is she that I cannot +think of kissing her without sensations of sacrilege. My lips are not +pure enough for hers. I would I were chaste. I never was chaste." + +Mike laughed and chattered of everything. Words came from him like +flour from a mill. + +The _Pilgrim_ was published on Wednesday. Wednesday was the day, +therefore, for walking in the Park; for lunching out; for driving in +hansoms. Like a fish on the crest of a wave he surveyed +London--multitudinous London, circulating about him; and he smiled +with pleasure when he caught sight of trees spreading their summer +green upon the curling whiteness of the clouds. He loved the Park. +The Park had always been his friend; it had given him society when no +door was open to him; it had been the inspiration of all his +ambitions; it was the Park that had first showed him ladies and +gentlemen in all the gaud and charm of town leisure. There he had +seen for the first time the panorama of slanting sunshades, patent +leather shoes, horses cantering in the dusty sunlight, or proudly +grouped, the riders flicking the flies away with gold-headed whips. +He loved the androgynous attire of the horsewomen--collars, silk +hats, and cravats. The Park appealed to him intensely and strangely +as nothing else did. He loved the Park for the great pasture it +afforded to his vanity. It was in the Park he saw the fashionable +procuress driving--she who would not allow him to pay even for +champagne in her house; it was in the Park he met the little actress +who looked so beseechingly in his face; it was in the Park he met +fashionable ladies who asked him to dinner and took him to the +theatre; it was in the Park he had found life and fortune, and, +saturated with happiness, with health, tingling with consciousness of +his happiness, Mike passed among the various crowd, which in its +listlessness seemed to balance and air itself like a many-petalled +flower. But much as the crowd amused and pleased him, he was more +amused and pleased with the present vision of his own personality, +which in a long train of images and stories passed within him. He +loved to dream of himself; in dreams he entered his soul like a +temple, seeing himself in various environment, and acting in manifold +circumstances. + +"Here am I--a poor boy from the bogs of Ireland--poor people" (the +reflection was an unpleasant one, and he escaped from it); "at all +events a poor boy without money or friends. I have made myself what I +am.... I get the best of everything--women, eating, clothes; I live +in beautiful rooms surrounded with pretty things. True, they are not +mine, but what does that matter?--I haven't the bother of looking +after them.... If I could only get rid of that cursed accent, but I +haven't much; Escott has nearly as much, and he was brought up at an +English school. How pleasant it is to have money! Heigho! How +pleasant it is to have money! Six pounds a week from the paper, and I +could make easily another four if I chose. Sometimes I don't get any +presents; women seem as if they were going to chuck it up, and then +they send all things--money, jewelry, and comestibles. I am sure it +was Ida who sent that hundred pounds. What should I do if it ever +came out? But there's nothing to come out. I believe I am suspected, +but nothing can be proved against me. + +"Why do they love me? I always treat them badly. Often I don't even +pretend to love them, but it makes no difference. Pious women, wicked +women, stupid women, clever women, high-class women, low-class women, +it is all the same--all love me. That little girl I picked up in the +Strand liked me before she had been talking to me five minutes. And +what sudden fancies! I come into a room, and every feminine eye fills +with sudden emotion. I wonder what it is. My nose is broken, and my +chin sticks out like a handle. And men like me just as much as women +do. It is inexplicable. True, I never say disagreeable things; and it +is so natural to me to wheedle. I twist myself about them like a +twining plant about a window. Women forgive me everything, and are +glad to see me after years. But they are never wildly jealous. +Perhaps I have never been really loved.... I don't know though--Lady +Seeley loved me. There was an old lady at Margate, sixty if she was a +day (of course there was nothing improper), and she worshipped me. +How nicely she used to smile when she said, 'Come round here that I +may look at you!'--and her husband was quite as bad; he'd run all +over the place after me. So-and-so was quite offended because I +didn't rush to see him; he'd put me up for six months.... Servants +hate Frank; for me they'd do anything. I never was in a lodging-house +in my life that the slavey didn't fall in love with me. People +dislike me; I speak to them for five minutes, and henceforth they run +after me. I make friends everywhere. + +"Those Americans wanted me to come and stay six months with them in +New York. How she did press me to come! ... The Brookes, they want me +to come and stay in the country with them; they'd give me horses to +ride, guns to shoot, and I'd get the girls besides. They looked +rather greedily at me just now. How jealous poor old Emily is of +them! She says I'd 'go to the end of the earth for them'--and would +not raise a little finger for her. Dear old Emily, she wasn't a bit +cross the other night when I wouldn't go home with her. I must go and +see her. She says she loved me--really loved me! ... She used to lie +and dream of pulling me out of burning houses. I wonder why I am +liked! How intangible, and yet how real! What a wonderful character I +would make in a novel!" + +At that moment he saw Mrs. Byril in the crowd; but notwithstanding +his kind thoughts of her, he prayed she might pass without seeing +him. Perceiving Lady Helen walking with her husband and Harding, he +followed her slim figure with his eyes, remembering what Seymour's +good looks had brought him, for he envied all love, desiring to be +himself all that women desire. Then his thoughts wandered. The +decoration of the Park absorbed him--the nobility of a group of +horses, the attractiveness of some dresses; and amid all this +elegance and parade he dreamed of tragedy--of some queen blowing her +brains out for him--and he saw the fashionable dress and the blood +oozing from the temple, trickling slowly through the sand. Then Lords +Muchross and Snowdown passed, and they passed without acknowledging +him! + +"Cads, cads, damn them!" His face changed expression. "I may rise to +any height, queens may fall down and worship me, but I may never undo +my birth. Not to have been born a gentleman! That is to say, of a +long line--a family with a history. Not to be able to whisper, 'I may +lose everything, all troubles may be mine, but the fact remains that +I was born a gentleman!' Those two men who cut me are lords. What a +delight in one's life to have a name all to one's self!" And then +Mike lost himself in a maze of little dreams. A gleam of mail; +escutcheons and castles; a hawk flew from fingers fair; a lady +clasped her hands when the lances shivered in the tourney; and Mike +was the hero that persisted in the course of this shifting little +dream. + +The Brookes--Sally and Maggie--stopped to speak to him, and he went +to lunch with them. His interest in all they did and said was +unbounded, and that he might not be able to reproach himself with +waste of time, he contrived by hint and allusion to lay the +foundation for a future intrigue with one of the girls. + +Lily Young, however, had never been forgotten; she had been as +constantly present in his mind as this sense of the sunshine and his +own happy condition. She had been parcel of and one with these but +now; as he drove to see her, he separated her from the morning +phenomena of his life, and began to think definitely of her. + +Smiling, he called himself a brute, and regretted his failure. But in +her presence his cynicism was evanescent. She sat on a little sofa, +covered with an Indian shawl; behind her was a great bronze, the +celebrated gift of a celebrated Rajah to her mother. Mrs. Young had +been on a tour in the East with her husband, and ever since her house +had been frequented by decrepit old gentlemen interested in Arabi, +and other matters which they spoke of as Eastern questions. + +Lily looked at Mike under her eyes as she passed across the room to +get him some tea, and they talked a little while. Then some three or +four great and very elderly historians entered, and she had to leave +him; and feeling he could not prolong his visit he went, conscious of +sensations of purity and some desire of goodness, if not for itself, +for the grace that goodness brings. He paid many visits in this +house, but conversations with learned Buddhists seemed the only +result; a _tête-à-tête_ with Lily seemed impossible. To his surprise +he never met her in society, and his heart beat fast when one evening +he heard she was expected; and for the first time forgetful of the +multitude, and nervous as a school-boy in search of his first love, +he sought her in the crowd. He feared to remain with her, and it +seemed to him he had accomplished much in asking her to come down to +supper. When talking to others his thoughts were with her, and his +eyes followed her. An inquisitive woman noted his agitation, and +suspecting the cause, said, "I see, I see, and I think something may +come of it." Even when Lily left he did not recover his ordinary +humour, and about two in the morning, in sullen weariness and +disappointment, he offered to drive Lady Helen home. + +Should he make love to her? He had often wished to. Here was an +opportunity. + +"You did not see that I was looking at you tonight; you did not guess +what I was thinking of?" + +"Yes, I did; you were looking at and thinking of my arms." + +Should he pass his arm round her? Lady Helen knew Lily, and might +tell; he did not dare it, and instead, spoke of her contributions to +the paper. Then the conversation branched into a description of the +Wednesday night festivities in Temple Gardens--the shouting and +cheering of the lords, the comic vocalists, the inimitable Arthur, +the extraordinary Bessie. He told, with fits of laughter, of +Muchross's stump speeches, and how he had once got on the +supper-table and sat down in the very centre, regardless of plates +and dishes. Mike and Lady Helen nearly died of laughter when he +related how on one occasion Muchross and Snowdown, both crying drunk, +had called in a couple of sweeps. "You see," he said, "the look of +amazement on their faces, and the black 'uns were forced into two +chairs, and were waited upon by the lords, who tucked their napkins +under their arms." + +"Oh don't, oh don't!" said Lady Helen, leaning back exhausted. + +But Mike went on, though he was hardly able to speak, and told how +Muchross and Snowdown had danced the can-can, kicking at the +chandelier from time to time, the sweeps keeping time with their +implements on the sideboard; the revel finishing up with a wrestling +match, Muchross taking the big sweep, and Snowdown the little one. + +"You should have seen them rolling over under the dining-room table; +I shall never forget Snowdown's shirt." + +"I should like to see one of these entertainments. Do you ever have a +ladies' night? If you do, and the ladies are not supposed to wrestle +with the laundresses in the early light, I should like to come." + +"Oh, yes, do come; Frank will be delighted. I'll see that things are +kept within bounds." The conversation fell, and he regretted he must +forego this very excellent opportunity to make love to her. + +Next day, changed in his humour, but still thinking of Lily, he went +to see Mrs. Byril, and he stopped a few days with her. He was always +strict in his own room, and if Emily sought him in the morning he +reprimanded her. + +She was one of those women who, having much heart, must affect more; +a weak intelligent woman, honest and loyal--one who could not live +without a lover. And with her arms about his neck, she listened to +his amours, and learnt his poetry by heart. Mike was her folly, and +she would never have thought of another if, as she said, he had only +behaved decently to her. "I am sorry, darling, I told you anything +about it, but when I got your beastly letter I wrote to him. Tell me +you'll come and stay with me next month, and I'll put him off.... I +hate this new girl; I am jealous because she may influence you, but +for the others--the Brookes and their friends--the half-hours spent +in summer-houses when the gardener is at dinner, I care not one jot." +So she spoke as she lay upon his knees in the black satin arm-chair +in the drawing-room. + +But her presence at breakfast--that invasion of the morning +hours--was irritating; he hated the request to be in to lunch, and +the duty of spending the evening in her drawing-room, instead of in +club or bar-room. He desired freedom to spend each minute as the +caprice of the moment prompted. Were he a rich man he would not have +lived with Frank; to live with a man was unpleasant; to live with a +woman was intolerable. In the morning he must be alone to dream of a +book or poem; in the afternoons, about four, he was glad to +æstheticize with Harding or Thompson, or abandon himself to the charm +of John's aspirations. + +John and he were often seen walking together, and they delighted in +the Temple. The Temple is escapement from the omniscient domesticity +which is so natural to England; and both were impressionable to its +morning animation--the young men hurrying through the courts and +cloisters, the picturesqueness of a wig and gown passing up a flight +of steps. It seemed that the old hall, the buttresses and towers, the +queer tunnels leading from court to court, turned the edge of the +commonplace of life. Nor did the Temple ever lose for them its quaint +and primitive air, and as they strolled about the cloisters talking +of art or literature, they experienced a delight that cannot be quite +put into words; and were strangely glad as they opened the iron +gates, and looked on all the many brick entanglements with the tall +trees rising, spreading the delicate youth of leaves upon the weary +red of the tiles and the dim tones of the dear walls. + + "A gentel Manciple there was of the Temple + Of whom achatours mighten take ensample + For to ben wise in bying of vitaille." + +The gentle shade of linden trees, the drip of the fountain, the +monumented corner where Goldsmith rests, awake even in the most +casual and prosaic a fleeting touch of romance. And the wide steps +with balustrades sweeping down in many turnings to the gardens, cause +vagrant and hurrying steps to pause, and wander about the library and +through the gardens, which lead with such charm of way to the open +spaces of the King's Bench walk. + +There, there is another dining-hall and another library. The clock is +ringing out the hour, and the place is filled with young men in +office clothes, hurrying on various business with papers in their +hands; and such young male life is one of the charms of the Temple; +and the absence of women is refreshment to the eye wearied of their +numbers in the streets. The Temple is an island in the London sea. +Immediately you pass the great doorway, studded with great nails, you +pass out of the garishness of the merely modern day, unhallowed by +any associations, into a calmer and benigner day, over which floats +some shadow of the great past. The old staircases lighted by strange +lanterns, the river of lingering current, bearing in its winding so +much of London into one enchanted view. The church built by the +Templars more than seven hundred years ago, now stands in the centre +of the inn all surrounded, on one side yellowing smoke-dried +cloisters, on another side various closes, feebly striving in their +architecture not to seem too shamefully out of keeping with its +beauty. There it stands in all the beauty of its pointed arches and +triple lancet windows, as when it was consecrated by the Patriarch of +Jerusalem in the year 1185. + +But in 1307 a great ecclesiastical tribunal was held in London, and +it was proved that an unfortunate knight, who had refused to spit +upon the cross, was haled from the dining-hall and drowned in a well, +and testimony of the secret rites that were held there, and in which +a certain black idol was worshipped, was forthcoming. The Grand +Master was burnt at the stake, the knights were thrown into prison, +and their property was confiscated. Then the forfeited estate of the +Temple, presenting ready access by water, at once struck the +advocates of the Court of Common Pleas at Westminster, and the +students who were candidates for the privilege of pleading therein, +as a most desirable retreat, and interest was made with the Earl of +Lancaster, the king's first cousin, who had claimed the forfeited +property of the monks by escheat, as the immediate lord of the fee, +for a lodging in the Temple, and they first gained a footing there as +his lessees. + +Above all, the church with its round tower-like roof was very dear to +Mike and John, and they often spoke of the splendid spectacle of the +religious warriors marching in procession, their white tunics with +red crosses, their black and white banner called Beauseant. It is +seen on the circular panels of the vaulting of the side aisles, and +on either side the letters BEAUSEANT. There stands the church of the +proud Templars, a round tower-like church, fitting symbol of those +soldier monks, at the west end of a square church, the square church +engrafted upon the circular so as to form one beautiful fabric. The +young men lingered around the time-worn porch, lovely with foliated +columns, strange with figures in prayer, and figures holding scrolls. +And often without formulating their intentions in words they entered +the church. Beneath the groined ribs of the circular tower lie the +mail-clad effigies of the knights, and through beautiful gracefulness +of grouped pillars the painted panes shed bright glow upon the +tesselated pavement. The young men passed beneath the pointed arches +and waited, their eyes raised to the celestial blueness of the +thirteenth-century window, and then in silence stole back whither the +knights sleep so grimly, with hands clasped on their breasts and +their long swords. + +And seeing himself in those times, clad in armour, a knight Templar +walking in procession in that very church, John recited a verse of +Tennyson's _Sir Galahad_-- + + "Sometimes on lonely mountain meres + I find a magic bark; + I leap on board; no helmsman steers: + I float till all is dark. + A gentle sound, an awful light! + Three angels bear the holy Grail; + With folded feet, in stoles of white, + On sleeping wings they sail. + Ah, blessed vision! blood of God! + My spirit beats her mortal bars, + As down dark tides the glory slides, + And star-like mingles with the stars." + + +"Oh! very beautiful. 'On sleeping wings they sail.' Say it again." + +John repeated the stanza, his eyes fixed upon the knight. + +Mike said-- + +"How different to-day the girls of the neighbourhood, their +prayer-books and umbrellas! Yet I don't think the anachronism +displeases me." + +"You say that to provoke me; you cannot think that all the dirty +little milliners' girls of the neighbourhood are more dignified than +these Templars marching in procession and taking their places with +iron clangour in the choir." + +"So far as that is concerned," said Mike, who loved to "draw" John, +"the little girls of the neighbourhood in all probability wash +themselves a great deal oftener than the Templars ever did. And have +you forgotten the accusations that were brought against them before +the ecclesiastical tribunal assembled in London? What about the black +idol with shining eyes and gilded head?" + +"Their vices were at least less revolting than the disgustful +meanness of to-day; besides, nothing is really known about the +reasons for the suppression of the Templars. Men who forswear women +are open to all contumely. Oh! the world is wondrous, just wondrous +well satisfied with its domestic ideals." + +The conversation came to a pause, and then Mike spoke of Lily Young, +and extolled her subtle beauty and intelligence. + +"I never liked any one as I do her. I am ashamed of myself when I +think of her purity." + +"The purity of ... Had she been pure she would have remained in her +convent." + +"If you had heard her speak of her temptations...." + +"I do not want to hear her temptations. But it was you who tempted +her to leave her convent. I cannot but think that you should marry +her. There is nothing for you but marriage. You must change your +life. Think of the constant sin you are living in." + +"But I don't believe in sin." + +With a gesture that declared a non-admission of such a state of soul, +John hesitated, and then he said-- + +"The beastliness of it!" + +"We have to live," said Mike, "since nature has so willed it, but I +fully realize the knightliness of your revolt against the principle +of life." + +John continued his admonitions, and Mike an amused and appreciative +listener. + +"At all events, I wish you would promise not to indulge in improper +conversation when I am present. It is dependent upon me to beg of you +to oblige me in this. It will add greatly to your dignity to refrain; +but that is your concern; I am thinking now only of myself. Will you +promise me this?" + +"Yes, and more; I will promise not to indulge in such conversation, +even when you are not present. It is, as you say, lowering.... I +agree with you. I will strive to mend my ways." + +And Mike was sincere; he was determined to become worthy of Lily. And +now the best hours of his life--hours strangely tense and strangely +personal--were passed in that Kensington drawing-room. She was to him +like the light of a shrine; he might kneel and adore from afar, but +he might not approach. The goddess had come to him like the moon to +Endymion. He knew nothing, not even if he were welcome. Each visit +was the same as the preceding. A sweet but exasperating +changelessness reigned in that drawing-room--that pretty drawing-room +where mother and daughter sat in sweet naturalness, removed from the +grossness and meanness of life as he knew it. Neither illicit +whispering nor affectation of reserve, only the charm of strict +behaviour; unreal and strange was the refinement, material and +mental, in which they lived. And for a time the charm sufficed; +desire was at rest. But she had been to see him, however at variance +such a visit, such event seemed with her present demeanour. And +she must come again! In increasing restlessness he conned all the +narrow chances of meeting her, of speaking to her alone. But no +accident varied the even tenor of their lives, the calm lake-like +impassibility of their relations, and in last resort he urged Frank +to give a dance or an At Home. And how ardently he pleaded, one +afternoon, sitting face to face with mother and daughter. Inwardly +agitated, but with outward calm, he impressed upon them many reasons +for their being of the party. The charm of the Temple, the river, and +glitter of light, the novel experience of bachelors' quarters.... +They promised to come. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Mike leaned forward to tie his white cravat. He was slight, and white +and black, and he thought of Lily, of the exquisite pleasure of +seeing her and leading her away. And he was pleased and surprised to +find that his thoughts of her were pure. + +The principal contributors to the _Pilgrim_ had been invited, and a +selection had been made from the fast and fashionable gang--those who +could be trusted neither to become drunk or disorderly. It had been +decided, but not without misgivings, to ask Muchross and Snowdown. + +The doors were open, servants could be seen passing with glasses and +bottles. Frank, who had finished dressing, called from the +drawing-room and begged Mike to hasten; for the housemaid was waiting +to arrange his room, for it had been decided that this room should +serve as a lounge where dancers might sit between the waltzes. + +"She can come in now," he shouted. He folded the curtains of his +strange bed; he lighted a silver lamp, re-arranged his palms, and +smiled, thinking of the astonished questions when he invited young +ladies to be seated among the numerous cushions. And Mike determined +he would say that he considered his bed-room far too sacred to admit +of any of the base wants of life being performed there. + +It was well-dressed Bohemia, with many markings and varied with +contrasting shades. The air was as sugar about the doorway with the +scent of gardenias; young lords shrank from the weather-stained cloth +of doubtful journalists, and a lady in long puce Cashmere provoked a +smile. Frank received his guests with laughter and epigram. + +The emancipation of the women is marked by the decline of the +chaperon, and it was not clear under whose protection the young girls +had come. Beneath double rows of ruche-rose feet passed, and the soft +glow of lamps shaded with large leaves of pale glass bathed the +women's flesh in endless half tints; the reflected light of copper +shades flushed the blonde hair on Lady Helen's neck to auroral +fervencies. + +In one group a fat man with white hair and faded blue eyes talked to +Mrs. Bentham and Lewis Seymour. A visit to the Haymarket Theatre +being arranged, he said-- + +"May I hope to be permitted to form one of the party?" + +Harding overheard the remark. He said, "It is difficult to believe, +but I assure you that that Mr. Senbrook was one of the greatest Don +Juans that ever lived." + +"We have in this room Don Juan in youth, middle age, and old +age--Mike Fletcher, Lewis Seymour, and Mr. Senbrook." + +"Did Seymour, that fellow with the wide hips, ever have success with +women? How fat he has grown!" + +"Rather; [Footnote: See _A Modern Lover_.] don't you know his story? +He came up to London with a few pounds. When we knew him first he was +starving in Lambeth. You remember, Thompson, the day he stood us a +lunch? He had just taken a decorative panel to a picture-dealer's, +for which he had received a few pounds, and he told us how he had met +a lady (there's the lady, the woman with the white hair, Mrs. +Bentham) in the picture-dealer's shop. She fell in love with him and +took him down to her country house to decorate it. She sent him to +Paris to study, and it was said employed a dealer for years to buy +his pictures." + +"And he dropped her for Lady Helen?" + +"Not exactly. Lady Helen dragged him away from her. He never seized +or dropped anything." + +"Then what explanation do you give of his success?" said a young +barrister. + +"His manner was always gentle and insinuating. Ladies found him +pretty to look upon, and very soothing. Mike is just the same; but of +course Seymour never had any of Mike's brilliancy or enthusiasm." + +"Do you know anything of the old gentleman--Senbrook's his name?" + +"I have heard that those watery eyes of his were once of entrancing +violet hue, and I believe he was wildly enthusiastic in his love. His +life has been closely connected with mine." + +"I didn't know you knew him." + +"I do not know him. Yet he poisoned my happiest years; he is the +upas-tree in whose shade I slept. When I was in Paris I loved a lady; +and I used to make sacrifices for this lady, who was, needless to +say, not worthy of them; but she had loved Senbrook in her earliest +youth, and it appears when a woman has once loved Senbrook, she can +love none other. You wouldn't think it, to look at him now, but I +assure you it is so. France is filled with the women he once loved. +The provincial towns are dotted with them. I know eight--eight exist +to my personal knowledge. Sometimes a couple live together, united by +the indissoluble fetter of a Senbrook betrayal. They know their lives +are broken, and they are content that their lives should be broken. +They have loved Senbrook, therefore there is nothing to do but retire +to France. You may think I am joking, but I'm not. It is comic, but +that is no reason why it shouldn't be true. And these ladies neither +forget nor upbraid; and they will attack you like tigers if you dare +say a word against him. This creation of faith is the certain sign of +Don Juan! No matter how cruelly the real Don Juan behaves, the women +he has deceived are ready to welcome him. After years they meet him +in all forgetfulness of wrong. Examine history, and you will find +that the love inspired by the real Don Juan ends only with death. Nor +am I sure that the women attach much importance to his infidelities; +they accept them, his infidelities being a consequential necessity of +his being, the eons and the attributes of his godhead. Don Juan +inspires no jealousy; Don Juan stabbed by an infuriated mistress is a +psychological impossibility." + +"I have heard that Seymour used to drive Lady Helen crazy with +jealousy." + +"Don Juan disappears at the church-door. He was her husband. The most +unfaithful wife is wildly jealous of her husband." + +A sudden silence fell, and a young girl was borne out fainting. + +"Nothing more common than for young girls to faint when he is +present. Go," said Harding, "and you will hear her calling his name." +Then, picking up the thread of the paradox, he continued--"But you +can't have Don Juan in this century, our civilization has wiped him +out; not the vice of which he is representative--that is eternal--but +the spectacle of adventure of which he is the hero. No more +fascinating idea. Had the age admitted of Don Juan, I should have +written out his soul long ago. I love the idea. With duelling and +hose picturesqueness has gone out of life. The mantle and the rapier +are essential; and angry words...." + +"Are angry words picturesque?" + +"Angry words mean angry attitudes; and they are picturesque." + +The young men smiled at the fascinating eloquence, and feeling an +appreciative audience about him, Harding continued-- + +"See Mike Fletcher, know him, understand him, and imagine what he +would have been in the eighteenth century, the glory of adventure he +would have gathered. His life to-day is a mean parody upon an easily +realizable might-have-been. So vital is the idea in him that his life +to-day is the reflection of a life that burned in another age too +ardently to die with death. In another age Mike would have outdone +Casanova. Casanova!--what a magnificent Casanova he would have been! +Casanova is to me the most fascinating of characters. He was +everything--a frequenter of taverns and palaces, a necromancer. His +audacity and unscrupulousness, his comedies, his immortal memoirs! +What was that delightful witty remark he made to some stupid husband +who lay on the ground, complaining that Casanova hadn't fought +fairly? You remember? it was in an avenue of chestnut trees, +approaching a town. Ha! I have forgotten. Mike has all that this man +had--love of adventure, daring, courage, strength, beauty, skill. For +Mike would have made a unique swordsman. Have you ever seen him ride? +Have you ever seen him shoot? I have seen him knock a dozen pigeons +over in succession. Have you ever seen him play billiards? He often +makes a break of a hundred. Have you ever seen him play tennis? He is +the best man we have in the Temple. And a poet! Have you ever heard +him tell of the poem he is writing? The most splendid subject. He +says that neither Goethe nor Hugo ever thought of a better." + +"You may include self-esteem in your list of his qualities." + +"A platitude! Self-esteem is synonymous to genius. Still, I do not +suppose he would in any circumstances have been a great poet; but +there is enough of the poet about him to enhance and complete his Don +Juan genius." + +"You would have to mend his broken nose before you could cite him as +a model Don Juan." + +"On the contrary, by breaking his nose chance emphasized nature's +intention; for a broken nose is the element of strangeness so +essential in modern beauty, or shall I say modern attractiveness? But +see that slim figure in hose, sword on thigh, wrapped in rich mantle, +arriving on horseback with Liperello! Imagine the castle balcony, and +the pale sky, green and rose, pensive as her dream, languid as her +attitude. Then again, the grand staircase with courtiers bowing +solemnly; or maybe the wave lapping the marble, the gondola shooting +through the shadow! What encounters, what assignations, what +disappearances, what sudden returnings! So strong is the love idea in +him, that it has suscitated all that is inherent and essential in the +character. It sent him to Boulogne so that he might fight a duel; and +the other day a nun left her convent for him. Curious atavism, +curious recrudescence of a dead idea of man! Say, is it his fault if +his pleasures are limited to clandestine visits; his fame to a +summons to appear in a divorce case; his danger to that most pitiful +of modern ignominies--five shillings a week? ... Bah! this age has +much to answer for." + +"But Casanova was a marvellous necromancer, an extraordinary +gambler." + +"I know no more enthusiastic gambler than Mike. Have you ever seen +him play whist? At Boulogne he cleaned them all out at baccarat." + +"And lost heavily next day, and left without paying." + +"The facts of the case have not been satisfactorily established. Have +you seen him do tricks with cards? He used to be very fond of card +tricks; and, by Jove! now I remember, there was a time when ladies +came to consult him. He had two pieces of paper folded up in the same +way. He gave one to the lady to write her question on; she placed it +in a cleft stick and burnt it in a lamp; but the stick was cleft at +both ends, and Mike managed it so that she burnt the blank sheet, +while he read what she had written. Very trivial; inferior of course +to Casanova's immense cabalistic frauds, but it bears out my +contention ... Have you ever read the _Memoirs?_ What a prodigious +book! Do you remember when the Duchesse de Chartres comes to consult +the _cabale_ in the little apartment in the Palais Royal as to the +best means of getting rid of the pimples on her face? ... and that +scene (so exactly like something Wycherley might have written) when +he meets the rich farmer's daughter travelling about with her old +uncle, the priest?" + +Mike was talking to Alice Barton, who was chaperoning Lily. Though +she knew nothing of his character she had drawn back instinctively, +but her strictness was gradually annealed in his persuasiveness, and +when he rose to go out of the room with Lily, she was astonished that +she had pleasure in his society. + +Lily was more beautiful than usual, the heat and the pleasure of +seeing her admirer having flushed her cheeks. He was penetrated with +her sweetness, and the hand laid on his arm thrilled him. Where +should he take her? Unfortunately the staircase was in stone; +servants were busy in the drawing-room. + +"How beautifully Mr. Escott plays the violin!" + +The melodious strain reeked through the doorways, filling the +passage. + +"That is Stradella's 'Chanson d'Église.' He always plays it; I'm sick +of it." + +"Yes, but I'm not. Do not let us go far, I should like to listen." + +"I thought you would have preferred to talk with me." + +Her manner did not encourage him to repeat his words, and he waited, +uncertain what he should say or do. When the piece was over, he +said-- + +"We had to turn my bedroom into a retiring-room. I'm afraid we shall +not be alone." + +"That does not matter; my mother does not approve of young girls +sitting out dances." + +"But your mother isn't here." + +"I should not think of doing anything I knew she did not wish me to +do." + +The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Muchross with +several lords, and he was with difficulty dissuaded from an attempt +to swarm up the columns of the wonderful bed. The room was full of +young girls and barristers gathered from the various courts. Some had +stopped before the great Christ. A girl had touched the suspended +silver lamp and spoken of "dim religious light"; but by no word or +look did Lily admit that she had been there before, and Mike felt it +would be useless to remind her that she had. She was the same as she +was every Wednesday in her mother's drawing-room. And the party had +been given solely with a view of withdrawing her from its influence. +What was he to say to this girl? Was he to allow all that had passed +between them to slip? Never had he felt so ill at ease. At last, +fixing his eyes upon her, he said-- + +"Let us cease this trifling. Perhaps you do not know how painful it +is to me. Tell me, will you come and see me? Do not let us waste +time. I never see you alone now." + +"I could not think of coming to see you; it would not be right." + +"But you did come once." + +"That was because I wanted to see where you lived. Now that I know, +there would be no reason for coming again." + +"You have not forgiven me. If you knew how I regret my conduct! Try +and understand that it was for love of you. I was so fearful of +losing you. I have lost you; I know it!" + +He cursed himself for the irresolution he had shown. Had he made her +his mistress she would now be hanging about his neck. + +"I forgive you. But I wish you would not speak of love in connection +with your conduct; when you do, all my liking for you dies." + +"How cruel! Then I shall never kiss you again. Was my kiss so +disagreeable? Do you hate to kiss me?" + +"I don't know that I do, but it is not right. If I were married to +you it would be different." + +The conversation fell. Then realizing that he was compromising his +chances, he said-- + +"How can I marry you? I haven't a cent in the world." + +"I am not sure I would marry you if you had every cent in the world." + +Mike looked at her in despair. She was adorably frail and adorably +pale. + +"This is very cruel of you." Words seemed very weak, and he feared +that in the restlessness and pain of his love he had looked at her +foolishly. So he almost welcomed Lady Helen's intrusion upon their +_tête-à-tête_. + +"And this is the way you come for your dance, Mr. Fletcher, is it?" + +"Have they begun dancing? I did not know it. I beg your pardon." + +"And I too am engaged for this dance. I promised it to Mr. Escott," +said Lily. + +"Let me take you back." + +He gave her his arm, assuring himself that if she didn't care for him +there were hundreds who did. Lady Helen was one of the handsomest +women in London, and he fancied she was thinking of him. And when he +returned he stood at the door watching her as she leaned over the +mantelpiece reading a letter. She did not put it away at once, but +continued reading and playing with the letter as one might with +something conclusive and important. She took no precaution against +his seeing it, and he noticed that it was in a man's handwriting, and +began _Ma chère amie_. The room was now empty, and the clatter of +knives and forks drowned the strains of a waltz. + +"You seemed to be very much occupied with that young person. She is +very pretty. I advise you to take care." + +"I don't want to marry. I shall never marry. Did you think I was in +love with Miss Young?" + +"Well, it looked rather like it." + +"No; I swear you are mistaken. I say, if you don't care about dancing +we'll sit down and talk. So you thought I was in love with Miss +Young? How could I be in love with her while you are in the room? You +know, you must have seen, that I have only eyes for you. The last +time I was in Paris I went to see you in the Louvre." + +"You say I am like Jean Gougon's statue." + +"I think so, so far as a pair of stays allows me to judge." + +Lady Helen laughed, but there was no pleasure in her laugh; it was a +hard, bitter laugh. + +"If only you knew how indifferent I am! What does it matter whether I +am like the statue or not? I am indifferent to everything." + +"But I admire you because you are like the statue." + +"What does it matter to me whether you admire me or not? I don't +care." + +He had not asked her for the dance; she had sought him of her +free-will. What did it mean? + +"Why should I care? What is it to me whether you like me or whether +you hate me? I know very well that three months after my death every +one will have ceased to think of me; three months hence it will be +the same as if I had never lived at all." + +"You are well off; you have talent and beauty. What more do you +want?" + +"The world cannot give me happiness. You find happiness in your own +heart, not in worldly possessions.... I am a pessimist. I recognize +that life is a miserable thing--not only a miserable thing, but a +useless thing. We can do no good; there is no good to be done; and +life has no advantage except that we can put it off when we will. +Schopenhauer is wrong when he asserts that suicide is no solution of +the evil; so far as the individual is concerned suicide is a perfect +solution, and were the race to cease to-morrow, nature would +instantly choose another type and force it into consciousness. Until +this earth resolves itself to ice or cinder, matter will never cease +to know itself." + +"My dear," said Lewis Seymour, who entered the room at that moment, +"I am feeling very tired; I think I shall go home, but do not mind +me. I will take a hansom--you can have your brougham. You will not +mind coming home alone?" + +"No, I shall not mind. But do you take the brougham. It will be +better so. It will save the horse from cold; I'll come back in a +hansom." + +Mike noticed a look of relief or of pleasure on her face, he could +not distinguish which. He pressed the conversation on wives, +husbands, and lovers, striving to lead her into some confession. At +last she said-- + +"I have had a lover for the last four years." + +"Really!" said Mike. He hoped his face did not betray his great +surprise. This was the first time he had ever heard a lady admit she +had had a lover. + +"We do not often meet; he doesn't live in England. I have not seen +him for more than six months." + +"Do you think he is faithful to you all that time?" + +"What does it matter whether he is or not? When we meet we love each +other just the same." + +"I have never known a woman like you. You are the only one that has +ever interested me. If you had been my mistress or my wife you would +have been happier; you would have worked, and in work, not in +pleasure, we may cheat life. You would have written your books, I +should have written mine." + +"I don't want you to think I am whining about my lot. I know what the +value of life is; I'm not deceived, that is all." + +"You are unhappy because your present life affords no outlet for your +talent. Ah! had you had to fight the battle! How happy it would have +made me to fight life with you! I wonder you never thought of leaving +your husband, and throwing yourself into the battle of work." + +"Supposing I wasn't able to make my living. To give up my home would +be running too great a risk." + +"How common all are when you begin to know them," thought Mike. + +They spoke of the books they had read. She told him of _Le Journal +d'Amiel_, explaining the charm that that lamentable record of a +narrow, weak mind, whose power lay in an intense consciousness of its +own failure, had for her. She spoke savagely, tearing out her soul, +and flinging it as it were in Mike's face, frightening him not a +little. + +"I wish I had known Amiel; I think I could have loved him." + +"Did he never write anything but this diary?" + +"Oh, yes; but nothing of any worth. The diary was not written for +publication. A friend of his found it among his papers, and from a +huge mass extricated two volumes." Then speaking in praise of the +pessimism of the Russian novels, she said--"There is no pleasure in +life--at least none for me; the only thing that sustains me is +curiosity." + +"I don't speak of love, but have you no affection for your +friends?--you like me, for instance." + +"I am interested in you--you rouse my curiosity; but when I know you, +I shall pass you by just like another." + +"You are frank, to say the least of it. But like all other women, I +suppose you like pleasure, and I adore you; I really do. I have never +seen any one like you. You are superb to-night; let me kiss you." He +took her in his arms. + +"No, no; loose me. You do not love me, I do not love you; this is +merely vice." + +He pleaded she was mistaken. They spoke of indifferent things, and +soon after went in to supper. + +"What a beautiful piece of tapestry!" said Lady Helen. + +"Yes, isn't it. But how strange!" he said, stopping in the doorway. +"See how exquisitely real is the unreal--that is to say, how full of +idea, how suggestive! Those blue trees and green skies, those nymphs +like unswathed mummies, colourless but for the red worsted of their +lips,--that one leaning on her bow, pointing to the stag that the +hunters are pursuing through a mysterious yellow forest,--are to my +mind infinitely more real than the women bending over their plates. +At this moment the real is mean and trivial, the ideal is full of +evocation." + +"The real and the ideal; why distinguish as people usually +distinguish between the words? The real is but the shadow of the +ideal, the ideal but the shadow of the real." + +The table was in disorder of cut pineapple, scattered dishes, and +drooping flowers. Muchross, Snowdown, Dicky the driver, and others +were grouped about the end of the table, and a waiter who styled them +"most amusing gentlemen," supplied fresh bottles of champagne. +Muchross had made several speeches, and now jumping on a chair, he +discoursed on the tapestry, drawing outrageous parallels, and talking +unexpected nonsense. The castle he identified as the cottage where he +and Jenny had spent the summer; the bleary-eyed old peacock was the +chicken he had dosed with cayenne pepper, hoping to cure its +rheumatism; the pool with the white threads for sunlight was the +water-butt into which Tom had fallen from the tiles--"those are the +hairs out of his own old tail." The nymphs were Laura, Maggie, Emily, +&c. Mike asked Lady Helen to come into the dancing-room, but she did +not appear to hear, and her laughter encouraged Muchross to further +excesses. The riot had reached its height and dancers were beginning +to come from the drawing-room to ask what it was all about. + +"All about!" shouted Muchross; "I don't care any more about nymphs--I +only care about getting drunk and singing. 'What cheer, 'Ria!'" + +"Don't you care for dancing?" said Lady Helen, with tears running +down her cheeks. + +"Ra-ther; see me dance the polka, dear girl." And they went banging +through the dancers. Snowdown and Dicky shouted approval. + + "What cheer, 'Ria! + 'Ria's on the job. + What cheer, 'Ria! + Speculate a bob. + 'Ria is a toff, and she is immensikoff-- + And we all shouted, + What cheer, 'Ria!" + +Amid the uproar Lady Helen danced with Lily Young. Insidious +fragilities of eighteen were laid upon the plenitudes of thirty! Pure +pink and cream-pink floated on the wind of the waltz, fading out of +colour in shadowy corners, now gliding into the glare of burnished +copper, to the quick appeal of the 'Estudiantina.' A life that had +ceased to dream smiled upon one which had begun to dream. Sad eyes of +Summer, that may flame with no desire again, looked into the eyes of +Spring, where fancies collect like white flowers in the wave of a +clear fountain. + +Mike and Frank turned shoulder against shoulder across the room, four +legs following in intricate unison to the opulent rhythm of the 'Blue +Danube'; and when beneath ruche-rose feet died away in little +exhausted steps, the men sprang from each other, and the rhythm of +sex was restored--Mike with Lily, and Frank with Helen, yielding +hearts, hands, and feet in the garden enchantment of Gounod's waltz. + + * * * * * * + +The smell of burnt-out and quenched candle-ends pervaded the +apartment, and slips of gray light appeared between the curtains. The +day, alas! had come upon them. Frank yawned; and pale with weariness +he longed that his guests might leave him. Chairs had been brought +out on the balcony. Muchross and his friends had adjourned from the +supper-room, bringing champagne and an hysterical lady with them. +Snowdown and Platt were with difficulty dissuaded from attempting +acrobatic feats on the parapet; and the city faded from deep purple +into a vast grayness. Strange was the little party ensconced in the +stone balcony high above the monotone of the river. + +Harding and Thompson, for pity of Frank, had spoken of leaving, but +the lords and the lady were obdurate. Her husband had left in +despair, leaving Muchross to bring her home safely to Notting Hill. +As the day broke even the "bluest" stories failed to raise a laugh. +At last some left, then the lords left; ten minutes after Mike, +Frank, Harding, and Thompson were alone. + +"Those infernal fellows wouldn't go, and now I'm not a bit sleepy." + +"I am," said Thompson. "Come on, Harding; you are going my way." + +"Going your way!" + +"Yes; you can go through the Park. The walk will do you good." + +"I should like a walk," said Escott, "I'm not a bit sleepy now." + +"Come on then; walk with me as far as Hyde Park Corner." + +"And come home alone! Not if I know it--I'll go if Mike will come." + +"I'll go," said Mike. "You'll come with us, Harding?" + +"It is out of my way, but if you are all going ... Where's John +Norton?" + +"He left about an hour ago." + +"Let's wake him up." + +As they passed up the Temple towards the Strand entrance, they turned +into Pump Court, intending to shout. But John's window was open, and +he stood, his head out, taking the air. + +"What!--not gone to bed yet?" + +"No; I have bad indigestion, and cannot sleep." + +"We are going to walk as far as Hyde Park Corner with Thompson. Just +the thing for you; you'll walk off your indigestion." + +"All right. Wait a moment; I'll put my coat on...." + +"I never pass a set of street-sweepers without buttoning up," said +Harding, as they went out of the Temple into the Strand. "The glazed +shoes I don't mind, but the tie is too painfully significant." + +"The old signs of City," said Thompson, as a begging woman rose from +a doorstep, and stretched forth a miserable arm and hand. + +About the closed wine-shops and oyster-bars of the Haymarket a shadow +of the dissipation of the night seemed still to linger; and a curious +bent figure passed picking with a spiked stick cigar-ends out of +the gutter; significant it was, and so too was the starving dog +which the man drove from a bone. The city was mean and squalid in +the morning, and conveyed a sense of derision and reproach--the +sweep-carriage-road of Regent Street; the Royal Academy, pretentious, +aristocratic; the Green Park still presenting some of the graces of +a preceding century. There were but three cabs on the rank. The +market-carts rolled along long Piccadilly, the great dray-horses +shuffling, raising little clouds of dust in the barren street, the +men dozing amid the vegetables. + +They were now at Hyde Park Corner. Thompson spoke of the +_improvements_--the breaking up of the town into open spaces; but he +doubted if anything would be gained by these imitations of Paris. His +discourse was, however, interrupted by a porter from the Alexandra +Hotel asking to be directed to a certain street. He had been sent to +fetch a doctor immediately--a lady just come from an evening party +had committed suicide. + +"What was she like?" Harding asked. + +"A tall woman." + +"Dark or fair?" + +He couldn't say, but thought she was something between the two. +Prompted by a strange curiosity, feeling, they knew not why, but +still feeling that it might be some one from Temple Gardens, they +went to the hotel, and obtained a description of the suicide from the +head-porter. The lady was very tall, with beautiful golden hair. For +a description of her dress the housemaid was called. + +"I hope," said Mike, "she won't say she was dressed in cream-pink, +trimmed with olive ribbons." She did. Then Harding told the porter he +was afraid the lady was Lady Helen Seymour, a friend of theirs, whom +they had seen that night in a party given in Temple Gardens by this +gentleman, Mr. Frank Escott. They were conducted up the desert +staircase of the hotel, for the lift did not begin working till seven +o'clock. The door stood ajar, and servants were in charge. On the +left was a large bed, with dark-green curtains, and in the middle of +the room a round table. There were two windows. The toilette-table +stood between bed and window, and in the bland twilight of closed +Venetian blinds a handsome fire flared loudly, throwing changing +shadows upon the ceiling, and a deep, glowing light upon the red +panels of the wardrobe. So the room fixed itself for ever on their +minds. They noted the crude colour of the Brussels carpet, and even +the oilcloth around the toilette-table was remembered. They saw that +the round table was covered with a red tablecloth, and that writing +materials were there, a pair of stays, a pair of tan gloves, and some +withering flowers. They saw the ball-dress that Lady Helen had worn +thrown over the arm-chair; the silk stockings, the satin shoes--and a +gleam of sunlight that found its way between the blinds fell upon a +piece of white petticoat. Lady Helen lay in the bed, thrown back low +down on the pillow, the chin raised high, emphasizing a line of +strained white throat. She lay in shadow and firelight, her cheek +touched by the light. Around her eyes the shadows gathered, and as a +landscape retains for an hour some impression of the day which is +gone, so a softened and hallowed trace of life lingered upon her. + +Then the facts of the case were told. She had driven up to the hotel +in a hansom. She had asked if No. 57 was occupied, and on being told +it was not, said she would take it; mentioning at the same time that +she had missed her train, and would not return home till late in the +afternoon. She had told the housemaid to light a fire, and had then +dismissed her. Nothing more was known; but as the porter explained, +it was clear she had gone to bed so as to make sure of shooting +herself through the heart. + +"The pistol is still in her hand; we never disturb anything till +after the doctor has completed his examination." + +Each felt the chill of steel against the naked side, and seeing the +pair of stays on the table, they calculated its resisting force. + +Harding mused on the ghastly ingenuity, withal so strangely +reasonable. Thompson felt he would give his very life to make a +sketch. Mike wondered what her lover was like. Frank was overwhelmed +in sentimental sorrow. John's soul was full of strife and suffering. +He had sacrificed his poems, and had yet ventured in revels which had +led to such results! Then as they went down-stairs, Harding gave the +porter Lewis Seymour's name and address, and said he should be sent +for at once. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +"I don't say we have never had a suicide here before, sir," said the +porter in reply to Harding as they descended the steps of the hotel; +"but I don't see how we are to help it. Whenever the upper classes +want to do away with themselves they chose one of the big hotels--the +Grosvenor, the Langham, or ourselves. Indeed they say more has done +the trick in the Langham than 'ere, I suppose because it is more +central; but you can't get behind the motives of such people. They +never think of the trouble and the harm they do us; they only think +of themselves." + +London was now awake; the streets were a-clatter with cabs; the pick +of the navvy resounded; night loiterers were disappearing and giving +place to hurrying early risers. In the resonant morning the young men +walked together to the Corner. There they stopped to bid each other +good-bye. John called a cab, and returned home in intense mental +agitation. + +"It really is terrible," said Mike. "It isn't like life at all, but +some shocking nightmare. What could have induced her to do it?" + +"That we shall probably never know," said Thompson; "and she seemed +brimming over with life and fun. How she did dance! ..." + +"That was nerves. I had a long talk with her, and I assure you she +quite frightened me. She spoke about the weariness of living;--no, +not as we talk of it, philosophically; there was a special accent of +truth in what she said. You remember the porter mentioned that she +asked if No. 57 was occupied. I believe that is the room where she +used to meet her lover. I believe they had had a quarrel, and that +she went there intent on reconciliation, and finding him gone +determined to kill herself. She told me she had had a lover for the +last four years. I don't know why she told me--it was the first time +I ever heard a lady admit she had had a lover; but she was in an +awful state of nerve excitement, and I think hardly knew what she was +saying. She took the letter out of her bosom and read it slowly. I +couldn't help seeing it was in a man's handwriting; it began, '_Ma +chère amie!_' I heard her tell her husband to take the brougham; that +she would come home in a cab. However, if my supposition is correct, +I hope she burnt the letter." + +"Perhaps that's what she lit the fire for. Did you notice if the +writing materials had been used?" + +"No, I didn't notice," said Mike. "And all so elaborately planned! +Just fancy--shooting herself in a nice warm bed! She was determined +to do it effectually. And she must have had the revolver in her +pocket the whole time. I remember now, I had gone out of the room for +a moment, and when I came back she was leaning over the +chimney-piece, looking at something." + +"I have often thought," said Harding, "that suicide is the +culminating point of a state of mind long preparing. I think that the +mind of the modern suicide is generally filled, saturated with the +idea. I believe that he or she has been given for a long time +preceding the act to considering, sometimes facetiously, sometimes +sentimentally, the advantages of oblivion. For a long time an +infiltration of desire of oblivion, and acute realization of the +folly of living, precedes suicide, and, when the mind is thoroughly +prepared, a slight shock or interruption in the course of life +produces it, just as an odorous wind, a sight of the sea, results in +the poem which has been collecting in the mind." + +"I think you might have the good feeling to forbear," said Frank; +"the present is hardly, I think, a time for epigrams or philosophy. I +wonder how you can talk so...." + +"I think Frank is quite right. What right have we to analyse her +motives?" + +"Her motives were simple enough; sad enough too, in all conscience. +Why make her ridiculous by forcing her heart into the groove of your +philosophy? The poor woman was miserably deceived; abominably +deceived. You do not know what anguish of mind she suffered." + +"There is nothing to show that she went to the Alexandra to meet a +lover beyond the fact of a statement made to Mike in a moment of +acute nervous excitement. We have no reason to think that she ever +had a lover. I never heard her name mentioned in any such way. Did +you, Escott?" + +"Yes; I have heard that you were her lover." + +"I assure you I never was; we have not even been on good terms for a +long time past." + +"You said just now that the act was generally preceded by a state of +feeling long preparing. It was you who taught her to read +Schopenhauer." + +"I am not going to listen to nonsense at this hour of the morning. I +never take nonsense on an empty stomach. Come, Thompson, you are +going my way." + +Mike and Frank walked home together. The clocks had struck six, and +the milkmen were calling their ware; soon the shop-shutters would be +coming down, and in this first flush of the day's enterprise, a last +belated vegetable-cart jolted towards the market. Mike's thoughts +flitted from the man who lay a-top taking his ease, his cap pulled +over his eyes, to the scene that was now taking place in the twilight +bedroom. What would Seymour say? Would he throw himself on his knees? +Frank spoke from time to time; his thoughts growled like a savage +dog, and his words bit at his friend. For Mike had incautiously given +an account in particular detail of his _tête-à-tête_ with Lady Helen. + +"Then you are in a measure answerable for her death." + +"You said just now that Harding was answerable; we can't both be +culpable." + +Frank did not reply. He brooded in silence, losing all perception of +the truth in a stupid and harsh hatred of those whom he termed the +villains that ruined women. When they reached Leicester Square, to +escape from the obsession of the suicide, Mike said-- + +"I do not think that I told you that I have sketched out a trilogy on +the life of Christ. The first play _John_, the second _Christ_, the +third _Peter_. Of course I introduce Christ into the third play. You +know the legend. When Peter is flying from Rome to escape +crucifixion, he meets Christ carrying His cross." + +"Damn your trilogy--who cares! You have behaved abominably. I want +you to understand that I cannot--that I do not hold with your +practice of making love to every woman you meet. In the first place +it is beastly, in the second it is not gentlemanly. Look at the +result!" + +"But I assure you I am in no wise to blame in this affair. I never +was her lover." + +"But you made love to her." + +"No, I didn't; we talked of love, that was all. I could see she was +excited, and hardly knew what she was saying. You are most unjust. I +think it quite as horrible as you do; it preys upon my mind, and if I +talk of other things it is because I would save myself the pain of +thinking of it. Can't you understand that?" + +The conversation fell, and Mike thrust both hands into the pockets of +his overcoat. + +At the end of a long silence, Frank said-- + +"We must have an article on this--or, I don't know--I think I should +like a poem. Could you write a poem on her death?" + +"I think so. A prose poem. I was penetrated with the modern +picturesqueness of the room--the Venetian blinds." + +"If that's the way you are going to treat it, I would sooner not have +it--the face in the glass, a lot of repetitions of words, sentences +beginning with 'And,' then a mention of shoes and silk stockings. If +you can't write feelingly about her, you had better not write at +all." + +"I don't see that a string of colloquialisms constitute feelings," +said Mike. + +Mike kept his temper; he did not intend to allow it to imperil his +residence in Temple Gardens, or his position in the newspaper; but he +couldn't control his vanity, and ostentatiously threw Lady Helen's +handkerchief upon the table, and admitted to having picked it up in +the hotel. + +"What am I to do with it? I suppose I must keep it as a relic," he +added with a laugh, as he opened his wardrobe. + +There were there ladies' shoes, scarves, and neckties; there were +there sachets and pincushions; there were there garters, necklaces, +cotillion favours, and a tea-gown. + +Again Frank boiled over with indignation, and having vented his sense +of rectitude, he left the room without even bidding his friend +good-night or good-morning. The next day he spent the entire +afternoon with Lizzie, for Lady Helen's suicide had set his nature in +active ferment. + +In the story of every soul there are times of dissolution and +reconstruction in which only the generic forms are preserved. A new +force had been introduced, and it was disintegrating that mass of +social fibre which is modern man, and the decomposition teemed with +ideas of duty, virtue, and love. He interrupted Lizzie's chit-chat +constantly with reflections concerning the necessity of religious +belief in women. + +About seven they went to eat in a restaurant close by. It was an old +Italian chop-house that had been enlarged and modernized, but the +original marble tables where customers ate chops and steaks at low +prices were retained in a remote and distant corner. Lizzie proposed +to sit there. They were just seated when a golden-haired girl of +theatrical mien entered. + +"That's Lottie Rily," exclaimed Lizzie. Then lowering her voice she +whispered quickly, "She was in love with Mike once; he was the fellow +she left her 'ome for. She's on the stage now, and gets four pounds a +week. I haven't seen her for the last couple of years. Lottie, come +and sit down here." + +The girl turned hastily. "What, Lizzie, old pal, I have not seen you +for ages." + +"Not for more than two years. Let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. +Escott--Miss Lottie Rily of the Strand Theatre." + +"Very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir; the editor of the +_Pilgrim_, I presume?" + +Frank smiled with pleasure, and the waiter interposed with the bill +of fare. Lottie ordered a plate of roast beef, and leaned across the +table to talk to her friend. + +"Have you seen Mike lately?" asked Lizzie. + +"Swine!" she answered, tossing her head. "No; and don't want to. You +know how he treated me. He left me three months after my baby was +born." + +"Have you had a baby?" + +"What, didn't you know that? It is seven months old; 'tis a boy, +that's one good job. And he hasn't paid me one penny piece. I have +been up to Barber and Barber's, but they advised me to do nothing. +They said that he owed them money, and that they couldn't get what he +owed them--a poor look-out for me. They said that if I cared to +summons him for the support of the child, that the magistrate would +grant me an order at once." + +"And why don't you?" said Frank; "you don't like the _exposé_ in the +newspapers." + +"That's it." + +"Do you care for him still?" + +"I don't know whether I do, or don't. I shall never love another man, +I know that. I saw him in front about a month ago. He was in the +stalls, and he fixed his eyes upon me; I didn't take the least +notice, he was so cross. He came behind after the first act. He said, +'How old you are looking!' I said, 'What do you mean?' I was very +nicely made up too, and he said, 'Under the eyes.' I said, 'What do +you mean?' and he said, 'You are all wrinkles.' I said, 'What do you +mean?' and he went down-stairs.... Swine!" + +"He isn't good-looking," said Frank, reflectively, "a broken nose, a +chin thrust forward, and a mop of brown curls twisted over his +forehead. Give me a pencil, and I'll do his caricature." + +"Every one says the same thing. The girls in the theatre all say, +'What in the world do you see in him?' I tell them that if he +chose--if he were to make up to them a bit, they'd go after him just +the same as I did. There's a little girl in the chorus, and she trots +about after him; she can't help it. There are times when I don't care +for him. What riles me is to see other women messing him about." + +"I suppose it is some sort of magnetism, electro-biology, and he +can't help exercising it any more than you women can resist it. Tell +me, how did he leave you?" + +"Without a word or a penny. One night he didn't come home, and I sat +up for him, and I don't know how many nights after. I used to doze +off and awake up with a start, thinking I heard his footstep on the +landing. I went down to Waterloo Bridge to drown myself. I don't know +why I didn't; I almost wish I had, although I have got on pretty well +since, and get a pretty tidy weekly screw." + +"What do you get?" + +"Three ten. Mine's a singing part. Waiter, some cheese and celery." + +"What a blackguard he is! I'll never speak to him again; he shall +edit my paper no more. To-night I'll give him the dirty kick-out." + +Mike remained the topic of conversation until Lottie said-- + +"Good Lord, I must be 'getting'--it is past seven o'clock." + +Frank paid her modest bill, and still discussing Mike, they walked to +the stage-door. Quick with desire to possess Lizzie wholly beyond +recall, and obfuscated with notions concerning the necessity of +placing women in surroundings in harmony with their natural goodness, +Frank walked by his mistress's side. At the end of a long silence, +she said-- + +"That's the way you'll desert me one of these days. All men are +brutes." + +"No, darling, they are not. If you'll act fairly by me, I will by +you--I'll never desert you." + +Lizzie did not answer. + +"You don't think me a brute like that fellow Fletcher, do you?" + +"I don't think there's much difference between any of you." + +Frank ground his teeth, and at that moment he only desired one +thing--to prove to Lizzie that men were not all vile and worthless. +They had turned into the Temple; the old places seemed dozing in the +murmuring quietude of the evening. Mike was coming up the pathway, +his dress-clothes distinct in the delicate gray light, his light-gray +overcoat hanging over his arm. + +"What a toff he is!" said Lizzie. His appearance and what it +symbolized--an evening in a boudoir or at the gaming-table--jarred on +Frank, suggesting as it did a difference in condition from that of +the wretched girl he had abandoned; and as Mike prided himself that +scandalous stories never followed upon his loves, the unearthing of +this mean and obscure liaison annoyed him exceedingly. Above all, the +accusation of paternity was disagreeable; but determined to avoid a +quarrel, he was about to pass by, when Frank noticed Lady Helen's +pocket-handkerchief sticking out of his pocket. + +"You blackguard," he said, "you are taking that handkerchief to a +gambling hell." + +Then realizing that the game was up, he turned and would have struck +his friend had not Lizzie interposed. She threw herself between the +men, and called a policeman, and the quarrel ended in Mike's +dismissal from the staff of the _Pilgrim_. + +Frank had therefore to sit up writing till one o'clock, for the whole +task of bringing out the paper was thrown upon him. Lizzie sat by him +sewing. Noticing how pale and tired he looked, she got up, and +putting her arm about his neck, said-- + +"Poor old man, you are tired; you had better come to bed." + +He took her in his arms affectionately, and talked to her. + +"If you were always as kind and as nice as you are to-night ... +I could love you." + +"I thought you did love me." + +"So I do; you will never know how much." They were close together, +and the pure darkness seemed to separate them from all worldly +influences. + +"If you would be a good girl, and think only of him who loves you +very dearly." + +"Ah, if I only had met you first!" + +"It would have made no difference, you'd have only been saying this +to some one else." + +"Oh, no; if you had known me before I went wrong." + +"Was he the first?" + +"Yes; I would have been an honest little girl, trying to make you +comfortable." + +Throwing himself on his back, Frank argued prosaically-- + +"Then you mean to say you really care about me more than any one +else?" + +She assured him that she did; and again and again the temptations of +women were discussed. He could not sleep, and stretched at length on +his back, he held Lizzie's hand. + +She was in a communicative humour, and told him the story of the +waiter, whom she described as being "a fellow like Mike, who made +love to every woman." She told him of three or four other fellows, +whose rooms she used to go to. They made her drink; she didn't like +the beastly stuff; and then she didn't know what she did. There were +stories of the landlady in whose house she lodged, and the woman who +lived up-stairs. She had two fellows; one she called Squeaker--she +didn't care for him; and another called Harry, and she did care for +him; but the landlady's daughter called him a s----, because he +seldom gave her anything, and always had a bath in the morning. + +"How can a girl be respectable under such circumstances?" Lizzie +asked, pathetically. "The landlady used to tell me to go out and get +my living!" + +"Yes; but I never let you want. You never wrote to me for money that +I didn't send it." + +"Yes; I know you did, but sometimes I think she stopped the letters. +Besides, a girl cannot be respectable if she isn't married. Where's +the use?" + +He strove to think, and failing to think, he said-- + +"If you really mean what you say, I will marry you." He heard each +word; then a sob sounded in the dark, and turning impulsively he took +Lizzie in his arms. + +"No, no," she cried, "it would never do at all. Your family--what +would they say? They would not receive me." + +"What do I care for my family? What has my family ever done for me?" + +For an hour they argued, Lizzie refusing, declaring it was useless, +insisting that she would then belong to no set; Frank assuring her +that hand-in-hand and heart-to-heart they would together, with united +strength and love, win a place for themselves in the world. They +dozed in each other's arms. + +Rousing himself, Frank said-- + +"Kiss me once more, little wifie; good-night, little wife ..." + +"Good-night, dear." + +"Call me little husband; I shan't go to sleep until you do." + +"Good-night, little husband." + +"Say little hussy." + +"Good-night, little hussy." + +Next morning, however, found Lizzie violently opposed to all idea of +marriage. She said he didn't mean it; he said he did mean it, and he +caught up a Bible and swore he was speaking the truth. He put his +back against the door, and declared she should not leave until she +had promised him--until she gave him her solemn oath that she would +become his wife. He was not going to see her go to the dogs--no, not +if he could help it; then she lost her temper and tried to push past +him. He restrained her, urging again and again, and with theatrical +emphasis, that he thought it right, and would do his duty. Then they +argued, they kissed, and argued again. + +That night he walked up and down the pavement in front of her door; +but the servant-girl caught sight of him through the kitchen-window +and the area-railings, and ran up-stairs to warn Miss Baker, who was +taking tea with two girl friends. + +"He is a-walking up and down, Miss, 'is great-coat flying behind +him." + +Lizzie slapped his face when he burst into her room; and scenes of +recrimination, love, and rage were transferred to and fro between +Temple Gardens and Winchester Street. Her girl friends advised her to +marry, and the landlady when appealed to said, "What could you want +better than a fine gentleman like that?" + +Frank was conscious of nothing but her, and every vision of Mount +Rorke that had risen in his mind he had unhesitatingly swept away. +All prospects were engulfed in his desire; he saw nothing but the +white face, which like a star led and allured him. + +One morning the marriage was settled, and like a knight going to the +crusade, Frank set forth to find out when it could be. They must be +married at once. The formalities of a religious marriage appalled +him. Lizzie might again change her mind; and a registrar's office +fixed itself in his thought. + +It was a hot day in July when he set forth on his quest. He addressed +the policeman at the corner, and was given the name of the street and +the number. He hurried through the heat, irritated by the +sluggishness of the passers-by, and at last found himself in front of +a red building. The windows were full of such general announcements +as--Working Men's Peace Preservation, Limited Liability Company, New +Zealand, etc. The marriage office looked like a miniature bank; there +were desks, and a brass railing a foot high preserved the +inviolability of the documents. A fat man with watery eyes rose from +the leather arm-chair in which he had been dozing, and Frank +intimated his desire to be married as soon as possible; that +afternoon if it could be managed. It took the weak-eyed clerk some +little time to order and grasp the many various notions which Frank +urged upon him; but he eventually roused a little (Frank had begun to +shout at him), and explained that no marriage could take place after +two o'clock, and later on it transpired that due notice would have to +be given. + +Very much disappointed, Frank asked him to inscribe his name. The +clerk opened a book, and then it suddenly cropped up that this was +the registry office, not for Pimlico, but for Kensington. + +"Gracious heavens!" exclaimed Frank, "and where is the registry +office for Pimlico in Kensington?" + +"That I cannot tell you; it may be anywhere; you will have to find +out." + +"How am I to find out, damn it?" + +"I really can't tell you, but I must beg of you to remember where you +are, sir, and to moderate your language," said the clerk, with some +faint show of hieratic dignity. "And now, ma'am, what can I do for +you?" he said, turning to a woman who smelt strongly of the kitchen. + +Frank was furious; he appealed again to the casual policeman, who, +although reluctantly admitting he could give him no information, +sympathized with him in his diatribe against the stupidities of the +authorities. The policeman had himself been married by the registrar, +and some time was lost in vain reminiscences; he at last suggested +that inquiry could be made at a neighbouring church. + +Frank hurried away, and had a long talk with a charwoman whom he +discovered in the desert of the chairs. She thought the office was +situated somewhere in a region unknown to Frank, which she called St. +George-of-the-Fields; her daughter, who had been shamefully deserted, +had been married there. The parson, she thought, would know, and she +gave him his address. + +The heat was intolerable! There were few people in the streets. The +perspiration collected under his hat, and his feet ached so in his +patent leather shoes that he was tempted to walk after the water-cart +and bathe them in the sparkling shower. Several hansoms passed, but +they were engaged. Nor was the parson at home. The maid-servant +sniggered, but having some sympathy with what she discovered was his +mission, summoned the housekeeper, who eyed him askance, and directed +him to Bloomsbury; and after a descent into a grocer's shop, and an +adventure which ended in an angry altercation in a servants' registry +office, he was driven to a large building which adjoined the parish +infirmary and workhouse. + +Even there he was forced to make inquiries, so numerous and various +were the offices. At last an old man in gray clothes declared himself +the registrar's attendant, and offered to show him the way; but +seeing himself now within range of his desire, he distanced the old +chap up the four flights of stairs, and arrived wholly out of breath +before the brass railing which guarded the hymeneal documents. A +clerk as slow of intellect as the first, and even more somnolent, +approached and leaned over the counter. + +Feeling now quite familiar with a registrar's office, Frank explained +his business successfully. The fat clerk, whose red nose had sprouted +into many knobs, balanced himself leisurely, evidently giving little +heed to what was said; but the broadness of the brogue saved Frank +from losing his temper. + +"What part of Oireland do ye come from? Is it Tipperary?" + +"Yes." + +"I thought so; Cashel, I'm thinking." + +"Yes; do you come from there?" + +"To be sure I do. I knew you when you were a boy; and is his lordship +in good health?" + +Frank replied that Lord Mount Rorke was in excellent health, and +feeling himself obliged to be civil, he asked the clerk his name, and +how long it was since he had been in Ireland. + +"Well, this is odd," the clerk began, and then in an irritating +undertone Mr. Scanlon proceeded to tell how he and four others were +driving through Portarlington to take the train to Dublin, when one +of them, Michael Carey he thought it was, proposed to stop the car +and have some refreshment at the Royal Hotel. + +Frank tried several times to return to the question of the license, +but the imperturbable clerk was not to be checked. + +"I was just telling you," he interposed. + +It seemed hard luck that he should find a native of Cashel in the +Pimlico registrar's office. He had intended to keep his marriage a +secret, as did Willy Brookes, and for a moment the new danger +thrilled him. It was intolerable to have to put up with this +creature's idle loquacity, but not wishing to offend him he endured +it a little longer. + +When the clerk paused in his narrative of the four gentlemen who had +stopped the car to have some refreshment, Frank made a resolute stand +against any fresh developments of the story, and succeeded in +extracting some particulars concerning the marriage laws. And within +the next few days all formalities were completed, and Frank's +marriage fixed for the end of the week--for Friday, at a quarter to +eleven. He slept lightly that night, was out of bed before eight, and +mistaking the time, arrived at the office a few minutes before ten. +He met the old man in gray clothes in the passage, and this time he +was not to be evaded. + +"Are you the gentleman who's come to be married by special license, +sir?" + +"Yes." + +"Neither Mr. Southey--that is the Registrar--nor Mr. Freeman--that's +the Assistant-Registrar--has yet arrived, sir." + +"It is very extraordinary they should be late. Do they never keep +their appointments?" + +"They rarely arrives before ten, sir." + +"Before ten! What time is it now?" + +"Only just ten. I am the regular attendant. I'll see yer through it; +no necessity to hagitate yerself. It will be done quietly in a +private room--a very nice room too, fourteen feet by ten high--them's +the regulations; all the chairs covered with leather; a very nice +comfortable room. Would yer like to see the room? Would yer like to +sit down there and wait? There's a party to be married before you. +But they won't mind you. He's a butcher by trade." + +"And what is she?" + +"I think she's a tailoress; they lives close by here, they do." + +"And who are you, and where do you live?" + +"I'm the regular attendant; I lives close by here." + +"Where close by?" + +"In the work'us; they gives me this work to do." + +"Oh, you are a pauper, then?" + +"Yease; but I works here; I'm the regular attendant. No need to be +afraid, sir; it's all done in a private room; no one will see you. +This way, sir; this way." + +The sinister aspect of things never appealed to Frank, and he was +vastly amused at the idea of the pauper Mercury, and had begun to +turn the subject over, seeing how he could use it for a queer story +for the _Pilgrim_. But time soon grew horribly long, and to kill it +he volunteered to act as witness to the butcher's marriage, one being +wanted. The effects of a jovial night, fortified by some matutinal +potations, were still visible in the small black eyes of the rubicund +butcher--a huge man, apparently of cheery disposition; he swung to +and fro before the shiny oak table as might one of his own carcasses. +His bride, a small-featured woman, wrapped in a plaid shawl, +evidently fearing that his state, if perceived by the Registrar, +might cause a postponement of her wishes, strove to shield him. His +pal and a stout girl, with the air of the coffee-shop about her, +exchanged winks and grins, and at the critical moment, when the +Registrar was about to read the declaration, the pal slipped behind +some friends and, catching the bridegroom by the collar, whispered, +"Now then, old man, pull yourself together." The Registrar +looked up, but his spectacles did not appear to help him; the +Assistant-Registrar, a tall, languid young man, who wore a carnation +in his button-hole, yawned and called for order. The room was lighted +by a skylight, and the light fell diffused on the hands and faces; +and alternately and in combination the whiskied breath and the +carnation's scent assailed the nostrils. Suddenly the silence was +broken by the Registrar, who began to read the declarations. "I +hereby declare that I, James Hicks, know of no impediment whereby I +may not be joined in matrimony with Matilde, Matilde--is it Matilde +or Matilda?" + +"I calls her Tilly when I am a-cuddling of her; when she riles me, +and gets my dander up, I says, 'Tilder, come here!'" and the butcher +raised his voice till it seemed like an ox's bellow. + +"I really must beg," exclaimed the Registrar, "that the sanctity +of--the gravity of this ceremony is not disturbed by any foolish +frivolity. You must remember ..." But at that moment the glassy look +of the butcher's eyes reached the old gentleman's vision, and a heavy +hiccup fell upon his ears. "I really think, Mr. Freeman, that that +gentleman, one of the contracting parties I mean, is not in a fit +state--is in a state bordering on inebriation. Will you tell me if +this is so?" + +"I didn't notice it before," said Mr. Freeman, stifling a yawn, "but +now you mention it, I really think he is a little drunk, and hardly +in a fit ..." + +"I ne--ver was more jolly, jolly dog in my life (hiccup)--when you +gentlemen have made it (hiccup) all squ--square between me and my +Tilly" (a violent hiccup),--then suddenly taking her round the waist, +he hugged her so violently that Matilda could not forbear a +scream,--"I fancy I shall be, just be a trifle more jolly still.... +If any of you ge--gen'men would care to join us--most 'appy, Tilly +and me." + +Lizzie, who had discovered a relation or two--a disreputable father +and a nondescript brother--now appeared on the threshold. Her +presence reminded Frank of his responsibility, so forthwith he +proceeded to bully the Registrar and allude menacingly to his +newspaper. + +"I'm sure, sir, I am very sorry you should have witnessed such a +scene. Never, really, in the whole course of my life ..." + +"There is positively no excuse for allowing such people ..." + +"I will not go on with the marriage," roared the Registrar; "really, +Mr. Freeman, you ought to have seen. You know how short-sighted I am. +I will not proceed with this marriage." + +"Oh, please, sir, Mr. Registrar, don't say that," exclaimed Matilda. +"If you don't go on now, he'll never marry me; I'll never be able to +bring 'im to the scratch again. Indeed, sir, 'e's not so drunk as he +looks. 'Tis mostly the effect of the morning hair upon him." + +"I shall not proceed with the marriage," said the Registrar, sternly. +"I have never seen anything more disgraceful in my life. You come +here to enter into a most solemn, I may say a sacred, contract, and +you are not able to answer to your names; it is disgraceful." + +"Indeed I am, sir; my name is Matilda, that's the English of it, but +my poor mother kept company with a Frenchman, and he would have me +christened Matilde; but it is all the same, it is the same name, +indeed it is, sir. Do marry us; I shan't be able to get him to the +scratch again. For the last five years ..." + +"Potter, Potter, show these people out; how dare you admit people who +were in a state of inebriation?" + +"I didn't 'ear what you said, sir." + +"Show these people out, and if you ever do it again, you'll have to +remain in the workhouse." + +"This way, ladies and gentlemen, this way. I'm the regular +attendant." + +"Come along, Tilly dear, you'll have to wait another night afore we +are churched. Come, Tilly; do you hear me? Come, Tilda." + +Frightened as she was, the words "another night" suggested an idea to +poor Matilde, and turning with supplicating eyes to the Registrar, +she implored that they might make an appointment for the morrow. +After some demur the Registrar consented, and she went away tearful, +but in hope that she would be able to bring him on the morrow, as he +put it, "fit to the post." This matter having been settled, the +Registrar turned to Frank. Never in the course of his experience had +the like occurred. He was extremely sorry that he (Mr. Escott) had +been present. True, they were not situated in a fashionable +neighbourhood, the people were ignorant, and it was often difficult +to get them to sign their names correctly; but he was bound to admit +that they were orderly, and seemed to realize, he would say, the +seriousness of the transaction. + +"It is," said the Registrar, "our object to maintain the strictly +legal character of the ceremony--the contract, I should say--and to +avoid any affectation of ritual whatsoever. I regret that you, sir, a +representative of the press ..." + +"The nephew and heir to Lord Mount Rorke," suggested the clerk. + +The Registrar bowed, and murmured that he did not know he had that +honour. Then he spoke for some time of the moral good the registry +offices had effected among the working classes; how they had allowed +the poor--for instance, the person who has been known for years in +the neighbourhood as Mrs. Thompson, to legalize her cohabitation +without scandal. + +But Frank thought only of his wife, when he should clasp her hand, +saying, "Dearest wife!" He had brought his dramatic and musical +critics with him. The dramatic critic--a genial soul, well known to +the shop-girls in Oxford Street, without social prejudices--was deep +in conversation with the father and brother of the bride; the musical +critic, a mild-faced man, adjusted his spectacles, and awaking from +his dream reminded them of an afternoon concert that began unusually +early, and where his presence was indispensable. When the +declarations were over, Frank asked when he should put the ring on. + +"Some like to use the ring, some don't; it isn't necessary; all the +best people of course do," said the Assistant-Registrar, who had not +yawned once since he had heard that Frank's uncle was Lord Mount +Rorke. + +"I am much obliged to you for the information; but I should like to +have my question answered--When am I to put on the ring?" + +The dramatic critic tittered, and Frank authoritatively expostulated. +But the Registrar interposed, saying-- + +"It is usual to put the ring on when the bride has answered to the +declarations." + +"Now all of ye can kiss the bride," exclaimed the clerk from Cashel. + +Frank was indignant; the Registrar explained that the kissing of the +bride was an old custom still retained among the lower classes, but +Frank was not to be mollified, and the unhappy clerk was ordered to +leave the room. + +The wedding party drove to the Temple, where champagne was awaiting +them; and when health and happiness had been drunk the critics left, +and the party became a family one. + +Mike was in his bedroom; he was too indolent to move out of Escott's +rooms, and by avoiding him he hoped to avert expulsion and angry +altercations. The night he spent in gambling, the evening in dining; +and some hours of each afternoon were devoted to the composition of +his trilogy. Now he lay in his arm-chair smoking cigarettes, drinking +lemonade, and thinking. He was especially attracted by the picture he +hoped to paint in the first play of John and Jesus; and from time to +time his mind filled with a picture of Herod's daughter. Closing his +eyes slightly he saw her breasts, scarce hidden beneath jewels, and +precious scarves floated from her waist as she advanced in a vaulted +hall of pale blue architecture, slender fluted columns, and pointed +arches. He sipped his lemonade, enjoying his soft, changing, and +vague dream. But now he heard voices in the next room, and listening +attentively he could distinguish the conversation. + +"The drivelling idiot!" he thought. "So he's gone and married +her--that slut of a barmaid! Mount Rorke will never forgive him. I +wouldn't be surprised if he married again. The idiot!" + +The reprobate father declared he had not hoped to see such a day, so +let bygones be bygones, that was his feeling. She had always been a +good daughter; they had had differences of opinion, but let bygones +be bygones. He had lived to see his daughter married to a gentleman, +if ever there was one; and his only desire was that God might spare +him to see her Lady Mount Rorke. Why should she not be Lady Mount +Rorke? She was as pretty a girl as there was in London, and a good +girl too; and now that she was married to a gentleman, he hoped they +would both remember to let bygones be bygones. + +"Great Scott!" thought Mike; "and he'll have to live with her for the +next thirty years, watching her growing fat, old, and foolish. And +that father!--won't he give trouble! What a pig-sty the fellow has +made of his life!" + +Lizzie asked her father not to cry. Then came a slight altercation +between Lizzie and her husband, in which it was passionately debated +whether Harry, the brother, was fitted to succeed Mike on the paper. + +"How the fellow has done for himself! A nice sort of paper they'll +bring out." + +A cloud passed over Mike's face when he thought it would probably be +this young gentleman who would continue his articles--_Lions of the +Season_. + +"You have quarrelled with Mike," said Lizzie, "and you say you aren't +going to make it up again. You'll want some one, and Harry writes +very nicely indeed. When he was at school his master always praised +his writing. When he is in love he writes off page after page. I +should like you to see the letters he wrote to ..." + +"Now, Liz, I really--I wish you wouldn't ..." + +"I am sure he would soon get into it." + +"Quite so, quite so; I hope he will; I'm sure Harry will get into +it--and the way to get into it is for him to send me some paragraphs. +I will look over his 'copy,' making the alterations I think +necessary. But for the moment, until he has learned the trick of +writing paragraphs, he would be of no use to me in the office. I +should never get the paper out. I must have an experienced writer by +me." + +Then he dropped his voice, and Mike heard nothing till Frank said-- + +"That cad Fletcher is still here; we don't speak, of course; we +passed each other on the staircase the other night. If he doesn't +clear out soon I'll have to turn him out. You know who he is--a +farmer's son, and used to live in a little house about a mile from +Mount Rorke Castle, on the side of the road." + +Mike thrilled with rage and hatred. + +"You brute! you fool! you husband of a bar-girl!--you'll never be +Lord Mount Rorke! He that came from the palace shall go to the +garret; he that came from the little house on the roadside shall go +to the castle, you brute!" + +And Mike vowed that he would conquer sloth and lasciviousness, and +outrageously triumph in the gaudy, foolish world, and insult his +rival with riches and even honour. Then he heard Lizzie reproach +Frank for refusing her first request, and the foolish fellow's +expostulations suscitated feelings in Mike of intense satisfaction. +He smiled triumphantly when he heard the old man's talents as +accountant referred to. + +"Father never told you about his failure," said Lizzie. Then the +story with all its knots was laboriously unravelled. + +"But," said the old man, "my books were declared to be perfect; I was +complimented on my books; I was proud of them books." + +"Great Scott! the brother as sub-editor, the father as book-keeper, +the sister as wife--it would be difficult to imagine anything more +complete. I'm sorry for the paper, though;--and my series, what a +hash they'll make of it!" Taking the room in a glance, and imagining +the others with every piece of furniture and every picture, he +thought--"I give him a year, and then these rooms will be for sale. I +shall get them; but I must clear out." + +He had won four hundred pounds within the last week, and this and his +share in a play which was doing fairly well in the provinces, had run +up his balance at the bank higher than it had ever stood--to nearly a +thousand pounds. + +As he considered his good fortune, a sudden desire of change of scene +suddenly sprang upon him, and in full revulsion of feeling his mind +turned from the long hours in the yellow glare of lamp-light, the +staring faces, the heaps of gold and notes, and the cards flying +silently around the empty space of green baize; from the long hours +spent correcting and manipulating sentences; from the heat and +turmoil and dirt of London; from Frank Escott and his family; from +stinking, steamy restaurants; from the high flights of stairs, and +the prostitution of the Temple. And like butterflies above two +flowers, his thoughts hovered in uncertain desire between the +sanctity of a honeymoon with Lily Young in a fair enchanted pavilion +on a terrace by the sea, near, but not too near, white villas, in a +place as fairylike as a town etched by Whistler, and some months of +pensive and abstracted life, full to overflowing with the joy and +eagerness of incessant cerebration; a summer spent in a quiet +country-side, full of field-paths, and hedge-rows, and shadowy +woodland lanes--rich with red gables, surprises of woodbine and great +sunflowers--where he would walk meditatively in the sunsetting, +seeing the village lads and lassies pass, interested in their homely +life, so resting his brain after the day's labour; then in his study +he would find the candles already lighted, the kettle singing, his +books and his manuscripts ready for three excellent hours; upon his +face the night would breathe the rustling of leaves and the rich +odour of the stocks and tall lilies, until he closed the window at +midnight, casting one long sad and regretful look upon the gold +mysteries of the heavens. + +So his reverie ran, interrupted by the conversation in the next room. +He heard his name mentioned frequently. The situation was +embarrassing, for he could not open a door without being heard. At +last he tramped boldly out, slamming the doors after him, leaving a +note for Frank on the table in the passage. It ran as follows--"I am +leaving town in a few days. I shall remove my things probably on +Monday. Much obliged to you for your hospitality; and now, good-bye." +"That will look," he thought, "as if I had not overheard his remarks. +How glad I shall be to get away! Oh, for new scenes, new faces! 'How +pleasant it is to have money!--heigh-ho!--how pleasant it is to have +money!' Whither shall I go? Whither? To Italy, and write my poem? To +Paris or Norway? I feel as if I should never care to see this filthy +Temple again." Even the old dining-hall, with its flights of steps +and balustrades, seemed to have lost all accent of romance; but he +stayed to watch the long flight of the pigeons as they came on +straightened wings from the gables. "What familiar birds they are! +Nothing is so like a woman as a pigeon; perhaps that's the reason +Norton does not like them. Norton! I haven't seen him for ages--since +that morning...." He turned into Pump Court. The doors were wide +open; and there was luggage and some packing-cases on the landing. +The floor-matting was rolled, and the screen which protected from +draughts the high canonical chair in which Norton read and wrote was +overthrown. John was packing his portmanteau, and on either side of +him there was a Buddha and Indian warrior which he had lately +purchased. + +"What, leaving? Giving up your rooms?" + +"Yes; I'm going down to Sussex. I do not think it is worth while +keeping these rooms on." + +Mike expressed his regret. Mike said, "No one understands you as I +do." Herein lay the strength of Mike's nature; he won himself through +all reserve, and soon John was telling him his state of soul: that he +felt it would not be right for him to countenance with his presence +any longer the atheism and immorality of the Temple. Lady Helen's +death had come for a warning. "After the burning of my poems, after +having sacrificed so much, it was indeed a pitiful thing to find +myself one of that shocking revel which had culminated in the death +of that woman." + +"There he goes again," thought Mike, "running after his conscience +like a dog after his tail--a performing dog, too; one that likes an +audience." And to stimulate the mental antics in which he was so much +interested, he said, "Do you believe she is in hell?" + +"I refrain from judging her. She may have repented in the moment of +death. God is her judge. But I shall never forget that morning; and I +feel that my presence at your party imposes on me some measure of +responsibility. As for you, Mike, I really think you ought to +consider her fate as an omen. It was you ..." + +"For goodness' sake, don't. It was Frank who invented the notion that +she killed herself because I had been flirting with her. I never +heard of anything so ridiculous. I protest. You know the absurdly +sentimental view he takes. It is grossly unfair." + +Knowing well how to interest John, Mike defended himself +passionately, as if he were really concerned to place his soul in a +true light; and twenty minutes were agreeably spent in sampling, +classifying, and judging of motives. Then the conversation turned on +the morality of women, and Mike judiciously selected some instances +from his stock of experiences whereby John might judge of their +animalism. Like us all, John loved to talk sensuality; but it was +imperative that the discussion should be carried forward with gravity +and reserve. Seated in his high canonical chair, wrapped in his +dressing-gown, John would bend forward listening, as if from the +Bench or the pulpit, awaking to a more intense interest when some +more than usually bitter vial of satire was emptied upon the fair +sex. He had once amused Harding very much by his admonishment of a +Palais Royal farce. + +"It was not," he said, "so much the questionableness of the play; +what shocked me most was the horrible levity of the audience, the +laughter with which every indecent allusion was greeted." + +The conversation had fallen, and Mike said-- + +"So you are going away? Well, we shall all miss you very much. But +you don't intend to bury yourself in the country; you'll come up to +town sometimes." + +"I feel I must not stay here; the place has grown unbearable." A look +of horror passed over John's face. "Hall has the rooms opposite. His +life is a disgrace; he hurries through his writing, and rushes out to +beat up the Strand, as he puts it, for shop-girls. I could not live +here any longer." + +Mike could not but laugh a little; and offended, John rose and +continued the packing of his Indian gods. Allusion was made to +Byzantine art; and Mike told the story of Frank's marriage; and John +laughed prodigiously at the account he gave of the conversation +overheard. Regarding the quarrel John was undecided. He found himself +forced to admit that Mike's conduct deserved rebuke; but at the same +time, Frank's sentimental views were wholly distasteful to him. Then +in reply to a question as to where he was going, Mike said he didn't +know. John invited him to come and stay at Thornby Place. + +"It is half-past three now. Do you think you could get your things +packed in time to catch the six o'clock?" + +"I think so. I can instruct Southwood; she will forward the rest of +my things." + +"Then be off at once; I have a lot to do. Hall is going to take my +furniture off my hands. I have made rather a good bargain with him." + +Nothing could suit Mike better. He had never stayed in a country +house; and now as he hurried down the Temple, remembrances of Mount +Rorke Castle rose in his mind--the parade of dresses on the summer +lawns, and the picturesqueness of the shooting parties about the +long, withering woods. + + +CHAPTER VII + + +For some minutes longer the men lay resting in the heather, their +eyes drinking the colour and varied lights and lines of the vast +horizon. The downs rose like cliffs, and the dead level of the weald +was freckled with brick towns; every hedgerow was visible as the +markings on a chess-board; the distant lands were merged in blue +vapour, and the windmill on its little hill seemed like a bit out of +a young lady's sketch-book. + +"How charming it is here!--how delightful! How sorrow seems to +vanish, or to hang far away in one's life like a little cloud! It is +only in moments of contemplation like this, when our wretched +individuality is lost in the benedictive influences of nature, that +true happiness is found. Ah! the wonderful philosophy of the East, +the wisdom of the ancient races! Christianity is but a vulgarization +of Buddhism, an adaptation, an arrangement for family consumption." + +They were not a mile from where John had seen Kitty for a last time. +Now the mere recollection of her jarred his joy in the evening, for +he had long since begun to understand that his love of her had been a +kind of accident, even as her death a strange unaccountable +divagation of his true nature. He had grown ashamed of his passion, +and he now thought that, like Parsifal, instead of yielding, he +should have looked down and seen a cross in the sword's hilt, and the +temptation should have passed. That cruel death, never explained, so +mysterious and so involved in horror! In what measure was he to +blame? In what light was he to view this strange death as a symbol, +as a sign? And if she had not been killed? If he had married her? To +escape from these assaults of conscience he buried his mind in his +books and writings, not in his history of Christian Latin, for now +his history of those writers appeared to him sterile, and he +congratulated himself that he had outgrown love of such paradoxes. + +Solemn, and with the great curves of palms, the sky arched above +them, and all the coombes filled with all the mystery of evening +shadow, and all around lay the sea--a rim of sea illimitable. + +At the end of a long silence Mike spoke of his poem. + +"You must have written a good deal of it by this time." + +"No, I have written very little;" and then yielding to his desire to +astonish, confessed he was working at a trilogy on the life of +Christ, and had already decided the main lines and incidents of the +three plays. His idea was the disintegration of the legend, which had +united under a godhead certain socialistic aspirations then prevalent +in Judæa. In his first play, _John_, he introduces two reformers, one +of whom is assassinated by John; the second perishes in a street +broil, leaving the field free for the triumph of Jesus of Nazareth. +In the second play, _Jesus_, he tells the story of Jesus and the +Magdalene. She throws over her protector, one of the Rabbi, and +refuses her admirer, Judas, for Jesus. The Rabbi plots to destroy +Jesus, and employs Judas. In the third play, _Peter_, he pictures the +struggle of the new idea in pagan Rome, and it ends in Peter flying +from Rome to escape crucifixion; but outside the city he sees Christ +carrying His cross, and Christ says He is going to be crucified a +second time, whereupon Peter returns to Rome. + +As they descended the rough chalk road into the weald, John said, "I +have sacrificed much for my religion. I think, therefore, I have a +right to say that it is hard that my house should be selected for the +manufacture of blasphemous trilogies." + +Knowing that argument would profit him nothing, Mike allayed John's +heaving conscience with promises not to write another line of the +trilogy, and to devote himself entirely to his poem. At the end of a +long silence, John said-- + +"Now the very name of Schopenhauer revolts me. I accept nothing of +his ideas. From that ridiculous pessimism I have drifted very far +indeed. Pessimism is impossible. To live we must have an ideal, and +pessimism offers none. So far it is inferior even to positivism." + +"Pessimism offers no ideal! It offers the highest--not to create life +is the only good; the creation of life is the only evil; all else +which man in his bestial stupidity calls good and evil is ephemeral +and illusionary." + +"Schopenhauer's arguments against suicide are not valid, that you +admit, therefore it is impossible for the pessimist to justify his +continued existence." + +"Pardon me, the diffusion of the principle of sufficient reason can +alone end this world, and we are justified in living in order that by +example and precept we may dissuade others from the creation of life. +The incomparable stupidity of life teaches us to love our +parents--divine philosophy teaches us to forgive them." + +That evening Mike played numerous games of backgammon with Mrs. +Norton; talked till two in the morning to John of literature, and +deplored the burning of the poems, and besought him to write them +again, and to submit them, if need be, to a bishop. He worked hard to +obliterate the effect of his foolish confidences; for he was very +happy in this large country house, full of unexpected impressions for +him. On the wide staircases he stopped, tense with sensations of +space, order, and ample life. He was impressed by the timely meals, +conducted by well-trained servants; and he found it pleasant to pass +from the house into the richly-planted garden, and to see the +coachman washing the carriage, the groom scraping out the horse's +hooves, the horse tied to the high wall, the cowman stumping about +the rick-yard--indeed all the homely work always in progress. + +Sometimes he did not come down to lunch, and continued his work till +late in the afternoon. At five he had tea in the drawing-room with +Mrs. Norton, and afterwards went out to gather flowers in the garden +with her, or he walked around the house with John, listening to his +plans for the architectural reformation of his residence. + +Mike had now been a month at Thornby Place. He was enchanted with +this country-side, and seeing it lent itself to his pleasure--in +other words, that it was necessary to his state of mind--he strove, +and with insidious inveiglements, to win it, to cajole it, to make it +part and parcel of himself. But its people were reserved. +Instinctively Mike attacked the line and the point of least +resistance, and the point of least resistance lay about three miles +distant. A young squire--a young man of large property and an +unimpeachable position in the county--lived there in a handsome house +with his three sisters. His life consisted in rabbit-shooting and +riding out every morning to see his sheep upon the downs. He was the +rare man who does not desire himself other than he is. But content, +though an unmixed blessing to its possessor, is not an attractive +quality, and Mr. Dallas stood sorely in need of a friend. He loved +his sisters, but to spend every evening in their society was +monotonous, and he felt, and they felt still more keenly, that a nice +young man would create an interest that at present was wanting in +country life. Mike had heard of this young squire and his sisters, +and had long desired to meet him. But they had paid their yearly +visit to Thornby Place, and he could not persuade John to go to Holly +Park. + +One day riding on the downs, Mike inquired the way to Henfield of a +young man who passed him riding a bay horse. The question was +answered curtly--so curtly that Mike thought the stranger could not +be led into conversation. In this he was mistaken, and at the end of +half a mile felt he had succeeded in interesting his companion. As +they descended into the weald, Mike told him he was stopping at +Thornby Place, and the young squire told him he was Mr. Dallas. When +about to part, Mike asked to be directed to the nearest inn, +complaining that he was dying of thirst, for he wished to give Mr. +Dallas an excuse for asking him to his house. Mr. Dallas availed +himself of the excuse; and Mike prayed that he might find the ladies +at home. They were in the drawing-room. The piano was played, and +amid tea and muffins, tennis was discussed, allusions were made to +man's inconstancy. + +Mike left no uncertainty regarding his various qualities. He liked +hunting as much as shooting, and having regard for the season of the +year, he laid special stress upon his love for, and his prowess in, +the game of tennis. A week later he received an invitation to tennis. +Henceforth he rode over frequently to Holly Park. He was sometimes +asked to stay the night, and an impression was gaining ground there +that life was pleasanter with him than without him. + +When he was not there the squire missed the morning ride and the game +of billiards in the evening, and the companion to whom he could speak +of his sheep and his lambs. Mike listened to the little troubles of +each sister in the back garden, never failing to evince the +profoundest sympathy. He was surprised to find that he enjoyed these +conversations just as much as a metaphysical disquisition with John +Norton. "I am not pretending," he often said to himself; "it is quite +true;" and then he added philosophically, "Were I not interested in +them I should not succeed in interesting them." + +The brother, the sisters, the servants, even the lap-dog shared in +the pleasure. The maid-servants liked to meet his tall figure in the +passages; the young ladies loved to look into his tender eyes when +they came in from their walk and found him in the drawing-room. + +To touch Mike's skin was to touch his soul, and even the Yorkshire +terrier was sensible of its gentleness, and soon preferred of all +places to doze under his hand. Mike came into Dallas' room in the +morning when he was taking his bath; he hung around the young ladies' +rooms, speaking through the half-open doors; then when the doors were +open, the young ladies fled and wrapped themselves in dressing-gowns. +He felt his power; and by insidious intimations, by looks, words, +projects for pleasure, presents, practical jokes, books, and talks +about books, he proceeded joyously in his corruption of the entire +household. + +Naturally Mike rode his host's horses, and he borrowed his spurs, +breeches, boots, and hunting-whip. And when he began to realize what +an excellent pretext hunting is for making friends, and staying in +country houses, he bought a couple of horses, which he kept at Holly +Park free of cost. He had long since put aside his poem and his +trilogy, and now thought of nothing but shooting and riding. He could +throw his energies into anything, from writing a poem to playing +chuck-farthing. + +The first meet of the hounds was at Thornby Place, and in the vain +hope of marrying her son, Mrs. Norton had invited the young girls of +the entire country-side. Lady Edith Downsdale was especially included +in her designs; but John instantly vetoed her hopes by asking Mike to +take Lady Edith in to lunch. She stood holding her habit; and feeling +the necessity of being brilliant, Mike said, pointing to the hounds +and horses-- + +"How strange it is that that is of no interest to the artist! I +suppose because it is only parade; whereas a bit of lane with a +wind-blown hedge is a human emotion, and that is always interesting." + +Soon after, a fox was found in the plantation that rimmed the lawn, +and seeing that Lady Edith was watching him, Mike risked a fall over +some high wattles; and this was the only notice he took of her until +late in the afternoon, until all hope of hunting was ended. A fox had +been "chopped" in cover, another had been miserably coursed and +killed in a back garden. He strove to make himself agreeable while +riding with her along the hillsides, watching the huntsman trying +each patch of gorse in the coombes. She seemed to him splendid and +charming, and he wondered if he could love her--marry her, and never +grow weary of her. But when the hounds found in a large wood beneath +the hills, and streamed across the meadows, he forgot her, and making +his horse go in and out he fought for a start. A hundred and fifty +were cantering down a steep muddy lane; a horseman who had come +across the field strove to open a strong farm-gate. "It is locked," +he roared; "jump." The lane was steep and greasy, the gate was four +feet and a half. Mike rode at it. The animal dropped his hind-legs, +Mike heard the gate rattle, and a little ejaculatory cry come from +those he left behind. It was a close shave. Turning in his saddle he +saw the immense crowd pressing about the gate, which could not be +opened, and he knew very well that he would have the hounds to +himself for many a mile. + +He raced alone across the misty pasture lands, full of winter water +and lingering leaf; the lofty downs like sea cliffs, appearing +through great white masses of curling vapour. And all the episodes of +that day--the great ox fences which his horse flew, going like a bird +from field to field; the awkward stile, the various brooks,--that one +overgrown with scrub which his horse had refused--thrilled him. And +when the day was done, as he rode through the gathering night, +inquiring out the way down many a deep and wooded lane, happiness +sang within him, and like a pure animal he enjoyed the sensation of +life, and he intoxicated on the thoughts of the friends that would +have been his, the women and the numberless pleasures and adventures +he could have engaged in, were he not obliged to earn money, or were +not led away from them "by his accursed literary tastes." + +Should he marry one of the sisters? Ridiculous! But what was there to +do? To-day he was nearly thirty; in ten years he would be a +middle-aged man; and, alas! for he felt in him manifold resources, +sufficient were he to live for five hundred years. Must he marry +Agnes? He might if she was a peeress in her own right! Or should he +win a peerage for himself by some great poem, or by some great +political treachery? No, no; he wanted nothing better than to live +always strong and joyous in this corner of fair England; and to be +always loved by girls, and to be always talked of by them about their +tea-tables. Oh, for a cup of tea and a slice of warm buttered toast! + +A good hour's ride yawned between him and Holly Park, but by crossing +the downs it might be reduced to three-quarters of an hour. He +hesitated, fearing he might miss his way in the fog, but the +tea-table lured him. He resolved to attempt it, and forced his horse +up a slightly indicated path, which he hoped would led him to a +certain barn. High above him a horseman, faint as the shadow of a +bird, made his way cantering briskly. Mike strove to overtake him, +but suddenly missed him: behind him the pathway was disappearing. + +Fearing he might have to pass a night on the downs, he turned his +horse's head; but the animal was obdurate, and a moment after he was +lost. He said, "Great Scott! where am I? Where did this ploughed +field come from? I must be near the dike." Then thinking that he +recognized the headland, he rode in a different direction, but was +stopped by a paling and a chalk-pit, and, riding round it, he guessed +the chalk-pit must be fifty feet deep. Strange white patches, +fabulous hillocks, and distortions of ground loomed through the white +darkness; and a valley opened on his right so steep that he was +afraid to descend into it. Very soon minutes became hours and miles +became leagues. + +"There's nothing for it but to lie under a furze-bush." With two +pocket-handkerchiefs he tied his horse's fore-legs close together, +and sat down and lit a cigar. The furze-patch was quite hollow +underneath and almost dry. + +"It is nearly full moon," he said; "were it not for that it would be +pitch dark. Good Lord! thirteen hours of this; I wish I had never +been born!" + +He had not, however, finished his first cigar before a horse's head +and shoulders pushed through the mist. Mike sprang to his feet. + +"Can you tell me the way off these infernal downs?" he cried. "Oh, I +beg your pardon, Lady Edith." + +"Oh, is that you, Mr. Fletcher? I have lost my way and my groom too. +I am awfully frightened; I missed him of a sudden in the fog. What +shall I do? Can you tell me the way?" + +"Indeed I cannot; if I knew the way I should not be sitting under +this furze-bush." + +"What shall we do? I must get home." + +"It is very terrible, Lady Edith, but I'm afraid you will not be able +to get home till the fog lifts." + +"But I must get home. I must! I must! What will they think? They'll +be sending out to look for me. Won't you come with me, Mr. Fletcher, +and help me to find the way?" + +"I will, of course, do anything you like; but I warn you, Lady Edith, +that riding about these downs in a fog is most dangerous; I as nearly +as possible went over a chalk-pit fifty feet deep." + +"Oh, Mr. Fletcher, I must get home; I cannot stay here all night; it +is ridiculous." + +They talked so for a few minutes. Then amid many protestations Lady +Edith was induced to dismount. He forced her to drink, and to +continue sipping from his hunting-flask, which was fortunately full +of brandy; and when she said she was no longer cold, he put his arm +about her, and they talked of their sensations on first seeing each +other. + +Three small stones, two embedded in the ground, the third, a large +flint, lay close where the grass began, and the form of a bush was +faint on the heavy white blanket in which the world was wrapped. A +rabbit crept through the furze and frightened them, and they heard +the horses browsing. + +Mike declared he could say when she had begun to like him. + +"You remember you were standing by the sideboard holding your habit +over your boots; I brought you a glass of champagne, and you looked +at me...." + +She told him of her troubles since she had left school. He related +the story of his own precarious fortunes; and as they lay dreaming of +each other, the sound of horse's hoofs came through the darkness. + +"Oh, do cry out, perhaps they will be able to tell us the way." + +"Do you want to leave me?" + +"No, no, but I must get home; what will father think?" + +Mike shouted, and his shout was answered. + +"Where are you?" asked the unknown. + +"Here," said Mike. + +"Where is here?" + +"By the furze-bush." + +"Where is the furze-bush?" + +It was difficult to explain, and the voice grew fainter. Then it +seemed to come from a different side. + +Mike shouted again and again, and at last a horseman loomed like a +nightmare out of the dark. It was Parker, Lady Edith's groom. + +"Oh, Parker, how did you miss me? I have been awfully frightened; I +don't know what I should have done if I had not met Mr. Fletcher." + +"I was coming round that barn, my lady; you set off at a trot, my +lady, and a cloud of fog came between us." + +"Yes, yes; but do you know the way home?" + +"I think, my lady, we are near the dike; but I wouldn't be certain." + +"I nearly as possible rode into a chalk-pit," said Mike. "Unpleasant +as it is, I think we had better remain where we are until it clears." + +"Oh, no, no, we cannot remain here; we might walk and lead the +horses." + +"Very well, you get on your horse; I'll lead." + +"No, no," she whispered, "give me your arm, and I'll walk." + +They walked in the bitter, hopeless dark, stumbling over the rough +ground, the groom following with the horses. But soon Lady Edith +stopped, and leaning heavily on Mike, said-- + +"I can go no further; I wish I were dead!" + +"Dead! No, no," he whispered; "live for my sake, darling." + +At that moment the gable of a barn appeared like an apparition. The +cattle which were lying in the yard started from under the horses' +feet, and stood staring in round-eyed surprise. The barn was half +full of hay, and in the dry pungent odour Mike and Lady Edith rested +an hour. Sometimes a bullock filled the doorway with ungainly form +and steaming nostrils; sometimes the lips of the lovers met. In about +half an hour the groom returned with the news that the fog was +lifting, and discovering a cart-track, they followed it over the +hills for many a mile. + +"There is Horton Borstal," cried Parker, as they entered a deep +cutting overgrown with bushes. "I know my way now, my lady; we are +seven miles from home." + +When he bade Lady Edith good-bye, Mike's mind thrilled with a sense +of singular satisfaction. Here was an adventure which seemed to him +quite perfect; it had been preceded by no wearisome preliminaries, +and he was not likely ever to see her again. + +Weeks and months passed, and the simple-minded country folk with whom +he had taken up his abode seemed more thoroughly devoted to him; the +anchor of their belief seemed now deeply grounded, and in the +peaceful bay of their affection his bark floated, safe from +shipwrecking current or storm. There was neither subterfuge or +duplicity in Mike; he was always singularly candid on the subject of +his sins and general worthlessness, and he was never more natural in +word and deed than at Holly Park. If its inmates had been reasonable +they would have cast him forth; but reason enters hardly at all in +the practical conduct of human life, and our loves and friendships +owe to it neither origin or modification. + +It was a house of copious meals and sleep. Mike stirred these +sluggish livers, and they accepted him as a digestive; and they +amused him, and he only dreamed vaguely of leaving them until he +found his balance at the bank had fallen very low. Then he packed up +his portmanteau and left them, and when he walked down the Strand he +had forgotten them and all country pursuits, and wanted to talk of +journalism; and he would have welcomed the obscurest paragraphist. +Suddenly he saw Frank; and turning from a golden-haired actress who +was smiling upon him, he said-- + +"How do you do?" The men shook hands, and stood constrainedly talking +for a few minutes; then Mike suggested lunch, and they turned into +Lubini's. The proprietor, a dapper little man, more like a rich man's +valet than a waiter, whose fat fingers sparkled with rings, sat +sipping sherry and reading the racing intelligence to a lord who +offered to toss him for half-crowns. + +"Now then, Lubi," cried the lord, "which is it? Come on; just this +once." + +Lubi demurred. "You toss too well for me; last night you did win +seven times running--damn!" + +"Come on, Lubi; here it is flat on the table." + +Mike longed to pull his money out of his pocket, but he had not been +on terms with Lubi since he had called him a _Marchand de Soupe_, an +insult which Lubi had not been able to forgive, and it was the +restaurateur's women-folk who welcomed him back to town after his +long absence. + +"What an air of dissipation, hilarity, and drink there is about the +place!" said Mike. "Look!" and his eyes rested on two gross +men--music-hall singers--who sat with their agent, sipping +Chartreuse. "Three years ago," he said, "they were crying artichokes +in an alley, and the slum is still upon their faces." + +No one else was in the long gallery save the waiters, who dozed far +away in the mean twilight of the glass-roofing. + +"How jolly it is," said Mike, "to order your own dinner! Let's have +some oysters--three dozen. We'll have a Chateaubriand--what do you +say? And an omelette soufflée--what do you think? And a bottle of +champagne. Waiter, bring me the wine-list." + +Frank had spoken to Mike because he felt lonely; the world had turned +a harsh face on him. Lord Mount Rorke had married, and the paper was +losing its circulation. + +"And how is the paper going?" + +"Pretty well; just the same as usual. Do you ever see it? What do you +think of my articles?" + +"Your continuation of my series, _Lions of the Season?_ Very good; I +only saw one or two. I have been living in the country, and have +hardly seen a paper for the last year and a half. You can't imagine +the life I have been leading. Nice kind people 'tis true; I love +them, but they never open a book. That is all very nice for a +time--for three months, for six, for a year--but after that you feel +a sense of alienation stealing over you." + +Mike saw that Frank had only met with failure; so he was tempted to +brandish his successes. He gave a humorous description of his +friends--how he had picked them up; how they had supplied him with +horses to ride and guns to shoot with. + +"And what about the young ladies? Were they included in the +hospitality?" + +"They included themselves. How delicious love in a country house +is!--and how different from other love it is, to follow a girl +dressed for dinner into the drawing-room or library, and to take her +by the waist, to feel a head leaning towards you and a mouth closing +upon yours! Above all, when the room is in darkness--better still in +the firelight--the light of the fire on her neck.... How good these +oysters are! Have some more champagne." + +Then, in a sudden silence, a music-hall gent was heard to say that +some one was a splendid woman, beautifully developed. + +"Now then, Lubi, old man, I toss you for a sovereign," cried a lord, +who looked like a sandwich-man in his ample driving-coat. + +"You no more toss with me, I have done with you; you too sharp for +me." + +"What! are you going to cut me? Are you going to warn me off your +restaurant?" + +Roars of laughter followed, and the lions of song gazed in admiration +on the lord. + +"I may be hard up," cried the lord; "but I'm damned if I ever look +hard up; do I, Lubi?" + +"Since you turn up head when you like, why should you look hard up?" + +"You want us to believe you are a 'mug,' Lubi, that's about it, but +it won't do. 'Mugs' are rare nowadays. I don't know where to go and +look for them.... I say, Lubi," and he whispered something in the +restaurateur's ear, "if you know of any knocking about, bring them +down to my place; you shall stand in." + +"Damn me! You take me for a pump, do you? You get out!" + +The genial lord roared the more, and assured Lubi he meant "mugs," +and offered to toss him for a sovereign. + +"How jolly this is!" said Mike. "I'm dying for a gamble; I feel as if +I could play as I never played before. I have all the cards in my +mind's eye. By George! I wish I could get hold of a 'mug,' I'd fleece +him to the tune of five hundred before he knew where he was. But look +at that woman! She's not bad." + +"A great coarse creature like that! I never could understand you.... +Have you heard of Lily Young lately?" + +Mike's face fell. + +"No," he said, "I have not. She is the only woman I ever loved. I +would sooner see her than the green cloth. I really believe I love +that girl. Somehow I cannot forget her." + +"Well, come and see her to-day. Take your eyes off that disgusting +harlot." + +"No, not to-day," he replied, without removing his eyes. Five minutes +after he said, "Very well, I will go. I must see her." + +The waiter was called, the bill was paid, a hansom was hailed, and +they were rolling westward. In the pleasure of this little +expedition, Mike's rankling animosity was almost forgotten. He said-- + +"I love this drive west; I love to see London opening up, as it were, +before the wheels of the hansom--Trafalgar Square, the Clubs, Pall +Mall, St. James' Street, Piccadilly, the descent, and then the +gracious ascent beneath the trees. You see how I anticipate it all." + +"Do you remember that morning when Lady Helen committed suicide? What +did you think of my article?" + +"I didn't see it. I should have liked to have written about it; but +you said that I wouldn't write feelingly." + +Mrs. Young hardly rose from her sofa; but she welcomed them in +plaintive accents. Lily showed less astonishment and pleasure at +seeing him than Mike expected. She was talking to a lady, who was +subsequently discovered to be the wife of a strange fat man, who, in +his character of Orientalist, squatted upon the lowest seat in the +room, and wore a velvet turban on his head, a voluminous overcoat +circulating about him. + +"As I said to Lady Hazeldean last night--I hope Mr. Gladstone did not +hear me, he was talking to Lady Engleton Dixon about divorce, I +really hope he did not hear me--but I really couldn't help saying +that I thought it would be better if he believed less in the divorce +of nations, even if I may not add that he might with advantage +believe more in the divorce of persons not suited to each other." + +When the conversation turned on Arabi, which it never failed to do in +this house, the perfume-burners that had been presented to her and +Mr. Young on their triumphal tour were pointed out. + +"I telegraphed to Dilke," said Sir Joseph, "'You must not hang that +man.' And when Mrs. Young accused him of not taking sufficient +interest in Africa, he said--'My dear Mrs. Young, I not interested in +Africa! You forget what I have done for Africa; how I have laboured +for Africa. I shall not believe in the synthesis of humanity, nor +will it be complete, till we get the black votes.'" + +"Mr. Young and Lord Granville used to have such long discussions +about Buddhism, and it always used to end in Mr. Young sending a copy +of your book to Lord Granville." + +"A very great distinction for me--a very great distinction for me," +murmured Buddha; and allowing Mrs. Young to relieve him of his +tea-cup, he said--"and now, Mrs. Young, I want to ask for your +support and co-operation in a little scheme--a little scheme which I +have been nourishing like a rose in my bosom for some years." + +Sir Joseph raised his voice; and it was not until he had imposed +silence on his wife that he consented to unfold his little scheme. + +Then the fat man explained that in a certain province in Cylone (a +name of six syllables) there was a temple, and this temple had +belonged in the sixth century to a tribe of Buddhists (a name of +seven syllables), and this temple had in the eighth century been +taken from the Buddhists by a tribe of Brahmins (a name of eight +syllables). + +"And not being Mr. Gladstone," said Sir Joseph, "I do not propose to +dispossess the Brahmins without compensation. I am merely desirous +that the Brahmins should be bought out by the Indian Government at a +cost of a hundred and fifty or two hundred thousand. If this were +done the number of pilgrims to this holy shrine would be doubled, and +the best results would follow." + +"Oh, Mrs. Jellaby, where art thou?" thought Mike, and he boldly took +advantage of the elaborate preparations that were being made for Sir +Joseph to write his name on a fan, to move round the table and take a +seat by Lily. + +But Frank's patience was exhausted, and he rose to leave. + +"People wonder at the genius of Shakespeare! I must say the stupidity +of the ordinary man surprises me far more," said Mike. + +"I'm a poor man to-day," said Frank, "but I would give £25 to have +had Dickens with us--fancy walking up Piccadilly with him afterwards! + +"Now I must go," he said. "Lizzie is waiting for me. I'll see you +to-morrow," he cried, and drove away. + +"Just fancy having to look after her, having to attend to her wants, +having to leave a friend and return home to dine with her in a small +room! How devilish pleasant it is to be free!--to say, 'Where shall I +dine?' and to be able to answer, 'Anywhere.' But it is too early to +dine, and too late to play whist. Damn it! I don't know what to do +with myself." + +Mike watched the elegantly-dressed men who passed hurriedly to their +clubs, or drove west to dinner parties. Red clouds and dark clouds +collected and rolled overhead, and in a chill wintry breeze the +leaves of the tall trees shivered, fell, and were blown along the +pavement with sharp harsh sound. London shrouded like a widow in long +crape. + +"What is there to do? Five o'clock! After that lunch I cannot dine +before eight--three hours! Whom shall I go and see?" + +A vision of women passed through his mind, but he turned from them +all, and he said-- + +"I will go and see her." + +He had met Miss Dudley in Brighton, in a house where he had been +asked to tea. She was a small, elderly spinster with sharp features +and gray curls. She had expected him to address to her a few +commonplace remarks for politeness' sake, and then to leave her for +some attractive girl. But he had showed no wish to leave her, and +when they met again he walked by her bath-chair the entire length of +the Cliff. Miss Dudley was a cripple. She had fallen from some rocks +when a child playing on the beach, and had injured herself +irremediably. She lived with her maid in a small lodging, and being +often confined to her room for days, nearly every visitor was +welcome. Mike liked this pallid and forgotten little woman. He found +in her a strange sweetness--a wistfulness. There was poetry in her +loneliness and her ruined health. Strength, health, and beauty had +been crushed by a chance fall. But the accident had not affected the +mind, unless perhaps it had raised it into more intense sympathy with +life. And in all his various passions and neglected correspondence he +never forgot for long to answer her letters, nor did he allow a month +to pass without seeing her. And now he bought for her a great packet +of roses and a novel; and with some misgivings he chose Zola's _Page +d'Amour_. + +"I think this is all right. She'll be delighted with it, if she'll +read it." + +She would have read anything he gave, and seen no harm since it came +from him. The ailing caged bird cannot but delight in the thrilling +of the wild bird that comes to it with the freedom of the sky and +fields in its wings and song. She listened to all his stories, even +to his stories of pigeon-shooting. She knew not how to reproach him. +Her eyes fixed upon him, her gentle hand laid on the rail of her +chair, she listened while he told her of the friends he had made, and +his life in the country; its seascape and downlands, the furze where +he had shot the rabbits, the lane where he had jumped the gate. Her +pleasures had passed in thought--his in action; the world was for +him--this room for her. + +There is the long chair in which she lies nearly always; there is the +cushion on which the tired head is leaned, a small beautifully-shaped +head, and the sharp features are distinct on the dark velvet, for the +lamp is on the mantelpiece, and the light falls full on the profile. +The curtains are drawn, and the eyes animate with gratitude when Mike +enters with his roses, and after asking kindly questions he takes a +vase, and filling it with water, places the flowers therein, and sets +it on the table beside her. There is her fire--(few indeed are the +days in summer when she is without it)--the singing kettle suggests +the homely tea, and the saucepan on the hearth the invalid. There is +her bookcase, set with poetry and religion, and in one corner are the +yellow-backed French novels that Mike has given her. They are the +touches the most conclusive of reality in her life; and she often +smiles, thinking how her friends will strive to explain how they came +into her life when she is gone. + +"How good of you to come and see me! Tell me about yourself, what you +have been doing. I want to hear you talk." + +"Well, I've brought you this book; it is a lovely book--you can read +it--I think you can read it, otherwise I should not have given it to +you." + +He remained with her till seven, talking to her about hunting, +shooting, literature, and card-playing. + +"Now I must go," he said, glancing at the clock. + +"Oh, so soon," exclaimed Miss Dudley, waking from her dream; "must +you go?" + +"I'm afraid I must; I haven't dined yet." + +"And what are you going to do after dinner? You are going to play +cards." + +"How did you guess that?" + +"I can't say," she said, laughing; "I think I can often guess your +thoughts." + +And during the long drive to Piccadilly, and as he eat his sole and +drank his Pomard, he dreamed of the hands he should hold, and of the +risks he should run when the cards were bad. His brain glowed with +subtle combinations and surprises, and he longed to measure his +strength against redoubtable antagonists. The two great whist +players, Longley and Lovegrove, were there. He always felt jealous of +Lovegrove's play. Lovegrove played an admirable game, always making +the most of his cards. But there was none of that dash, and almost +miraculous flashes of imagination and decision which characterized +Mike, and Mike felt that if he had the money on, and with Longley for +a partner, he could play as he had never played before; and ignoring +a young man whom he might have rooked at écarté, and avoiding a rich +old gentleman who loved his game of piquet, and on whom Mike was used +to rely in the old days for his Sunday dinner (he used to say the old +gentleman gave the best dinners in London; they always ran into a +tenner), he sat down at the whist-table. His partner played +wretchedly, and though he had Longley and Lovegrove against him, he +could not refrain from betting ten pounds on every rubber. He played +till the club closed, he played till he had reduced his balance at +the bank to nineteen pounds. + +Haunted by the five of clubs, which on one occasion he should have +played and did not, he walked till he came to the Haymarket. Then he +stopped. What could he do? All the life of idleness and luxury which +he had so long enjoyed faded like a dream, and the spectre of cheap +lodgings and daily journalism rose painfully distinct. He pitied the +street-sweepers, and wondered if it were possible for him to slip +down into the gutter. "When I have paid my hotel bill, I shan't have +a tenner." He thought of Mrs. Byril, but the idea did not please him, +and he remembered Frank had told him he had a cottage on the river. +He would go there. He might put up for a night or two at Hall's. + +"I will start a series of articles to-morrow. What shall it be?" An +unfortunate still stood at the corner of the street. "'Letters to a +Light o' Love!' Frank must advance me something upon them.... Those +stupid women! if they were not so witless they could rise to any +height. If I had only been a woman! ... If I had been a woman I should +have liked to have been Ninon de Lanclos." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +When Mike had paid his hotel bill, very few pounds were left for the +card-room, and judging it was not an hour in which he might tempt +fortune, he "rooked" a young man remorselessly. Having thus +replenished his pockets he turned to the whist-table for amusement. +Luck was against him; he played, defying luck, and left the club +owing eighty pounds, five of which he had borrowed from Longley. + +Next morning as he dozed, he wondered if, had he played the ten of +diamonds instead of the seven of clubs, it would have materially +altered his fortune; and from cards his thoughts wandered, till they +took root in the articles he was to write for the _Pilgrim_. He was +in Hall's spare bed-room--a large, square room, empty of all +furniture except a camp bedstead. His portmanteau lay wide open in +the middle of the floor, and a gaunt fireplace yawned amid some +yellow marbles. + +"'Darling, like a rose you hold the whole world between your lips, +and you shed its leaves in little kisses.' That will do for the +opening sentences." Then as words slipped from him he considered the +component parts of his subject. + +"The first letter is of course introductory, and I must establish +certain facts, truths which have become distorted and falsified, or +lost sight of. Addressing an ideal courtesan, I shall say, 'You must +understand that the opening sentence of this letter does not include +any part of the old reproach which has been levelled against you +since man began to love you, and that was when he ceased to be an ape +and became man. + +"'If you were ever sphinx-like and bloodthirsty, which I very much +doubt, you have changed flesh and skin, even the marrow of your +bones. In these modern days you are a kind-hearted little woman who, +to pursue an ancient metaphor, sheds the world rosewise in little +kisses; but if you did not so shed it, the world would shed itself in +tears. Your smiles and laughter are the last lights that play around +the white hairs of an aged duke; your winsome tendernesses are the +dreams of a young man who writes "pars" about you on Friday, and +dines with you on Sunday; you are an ideal in many lives which +without you would certainly be ideal-less.' Deuced good that; I +wish I had a pencil to make a note; but I shall remember it. Then +will come my historical paragraph. I shall show that it is only +by confounding courtesans with queens, and love with ambition, +that any sort of case can be made out against the former. Third +paragraph--'Courtesans are a factor in the great problem of the +circulation of wealth, etc.' It will be said that the money thus +spent is unproductive.... So much the better! For if it were given to +the poor it would merely enable them to bring more children into the +world, thereby increasing immensely the general misery of the race. +Schopenhauer will not be left out in the cold after all. Quote +Lecky,--'The courtesan is the guardian angel of our hearths and +homes, the protector of our wives and sisters.'" + +"Will you have a bath this morning, sir?" cried the laundress, +through the door. + +"Yes, and get me a chop for breakfast." + +"I shall tell her (the courtesan, not the laundress) how she may +organize the various forces latent in her and culminate in a power +which shall contain in essence the united responsibilities of church, +music-hall, and picture gallery." Mike turned over on his back and +roared with laughter. "Frank will be delighted. It will make the +fortune of the paper. Then I shall attack my subject in detail. +Dress, house, education, friends, female and male. Then the +money question. She must make a provision for the future. +Charming chapter there is to be written on the old age of the +courtesan--charities--ostentatious charities--charitable bazaars, +reception into the Roman Catholic faith." + +"Shall I bring in your hot water, sir?" screamed the laundress. + +"Yes, yes.... Shall my courtesan go on the stage? No, she shall be a +pure courtesan, she shall remain unsullied of any labour. She might +appear once on the boards;--no, no, she must remain a pure courtesan. +Charming subject! It will make a book. Charming opportunity for wit, +satire, fancy. I shall write the introductory letter after +breakfast." + +Frank was in shoaling water, and could not pay his contributors; but +Mike could get blood out of a turnip, and Frank advanced him ten +pounds on the proposed articles. Frank counted on these articles to +whip up the circulation, and Mike promised to let him have four +within the week, and left the cottage at Henley, where Frank was +living, full of dreams of work. And every morning before he got out +of bed he considered and reconsidered his subject, finding always +more than one idea, and many a witty fancy; and every day after +breakfast the work undone hung like a sword between Hall and him as +they sat talking of their friends, of art, of women, of things that +did not interest them. They hung around each other, loth yet desirous +to part; they followed each other through the three rooms, buttoning +their braces and shirt-collars. And when conversation had worn itself +out, Mike accepted any pretext to postpone the day's work. He had to +fetch ink or cigarettes. + +But he was always detained, if not by friends, by the beauty of the +gardens or the river. Never did the old dining-hall and the +staircases, balustraded--on whose gray stone a leaf, the first of +many, rustles--seem more intense and pregnant with that mystic +mournfulness which is the Thames, and which is London. The dull +sphinx-like water rolling through multitude of bricks, seemed to mark +on this wistful autumn day a more melancholy enchantment, and looking +out on the great waste of brick delicately blended with smoke and +mist, and seeing the hay-boats sailing picturesquely, and the tugs +making for Blackfriars, long lines of coal-barges in their wake, +laden so deep that the water slopped over the gunwales, he thought of +the spring morning when he had waited there for Lily. How she +persisted in his mind! Why had he not asked her to marry him instead +of striving to make her his mistress? She was too sweet to be cast +off like the others; she would have accepted him if he had asked her. +He had sacrificed marriage for self, and what had self given him? + +Mike was surprised at these thoughts, and pleased, for they proved a +certain residue of goodness in him; at all events, called into his +consideration a side of his nature which he was not wearisomely +familiar with. Then he dismissed these thoughts as he might have the +letter of a determined creditor. He could still bid them go. And +having easily rid himself of them, he noticed the porters in their +white aprons, and the flight of pigeons, the sacred birds of the +Temple, coming down from the roofs. And he loved now more than ever +Fleet Street, and the various offices where he might idle, and the +various luncheon-bars to which he might adjourn with one of the +staff, perhaps with the editor of one of the newspapers. The October +sunlight was warm and soft, greeted his face agreeably as he lounged, +stopping before every shop in which there were books or prints. +Ludgate Circus was always a favourite with him, partly because he +loved St. Paul's, partly because women assembled there; and now in +the mist, delicate and pure, rose above the town the lovely dome. + +"None but the barbarians of the Thames," thought Mike, "none other +would have allowed that most shameful bridge." + +Mike hated Simpson's. He could not abide the stolid city folk, who +devour there five and twenty saddles of mutton in an evening. He +liked better the Cock Tavern, quiet, snug, and intimate. Wedged with +a couple of chums in a comfortable corner, he shouted-- + +"Henry, get me a chop and a pint of bitter." + +There he was sure to meet a young barrister ready to talk to him, and +they returned together, swinging their sticks, happy in their +bachelordom, proud of the old inns and courts. Often they stayed to +look on the church, the church of the Knight Templars, those terrible +and mysterious knights who, with crossed legs for sign of mission, +and with long swords and kite-shaped shields, lie upon the pavement +of the church. + +One wet night, when every court and close was buried in a deep, +cloying darkness, and the church seemed a dead thing, the pathetic +stories of the windows suddenly became dreamily alive, and the organ +sighed like one sad at heart. The young men entered; and in the pomp +of the pipes, and in shadows starred by the candles, the lone +organist sat playing a fugue by Bach. + +"It is," said Mike, "like turning the pages of some precious missal, +adorned with gold thread and bedazzled with rare jewels. It is like a +poem by Edgar Allen Poe." Quelled, and in strange awe they listened, +and when the music ceased, unable at once to return to the simple +prose of their chambers, they lingered, commenting on the mock taste +of the architecture of the dining-hall, and laughing at the inflated +inscription over the doorway. + +"It is worse," said Mike, "than the Middle Temple Hall--far worse; +but I like this old colonnade, there is something so suggestive in +this old inscription in bad Latin. + + + 'Vetustissima Templariorum porticu + Igne consumptâ; an 1679 + Nova hæc sumptibus medii + Templie extructa an 1681 + Gulielmo Whiteloche arm + Thesauör.'" + + +Once or twice a week Hall dined at the Cock for the purpose of +meeting his friends, whom he invited after dinner to his rooms to +smoke and drink till midnight. His welcome was so cordial that all +were glad to come. The hospitality was that which is met in all +chambers in the Temple. Coffee was made with difficulty, delay, and +uncertain result; a bottle of port was sometimes produced; of whiskey +and water there was always plenty. Every one brought his own tobacco; +and in decrepit chairs beneath dangerously-laden bookcases some six +or seven barristers enjoyed themselves in conversation, smoke, and +drink. Mike recognized how characteristically Temple was this +society, how different from the heterogeneous visitors of Temple +Gardens in the heyday of Frank's fortune. + +James Norris was a small, thin man, dark and with regular features, +clean shaven like a priest or an actor, vaguely resembling both, +inclining towards the hieratic rather than to the histrionic type. He +dressed always in black, and the closely-buttoned jacket revealed the +spareness of his body. He was met often in the evening, going to dine +at the Cock; but was rarely seen walking about the Temple in the +day-time. It was impossible to meet any one more suasive and +agreeable; his suavity was penetrating as his small dark eyes. He +lived in Elm Court, and his rooms impressed you with a sense of +cleanliness and comfort. The furniture was all in solid mahogany; +there were no knick-knacks or any lightness, and almost the only +æsthetic intentions were a few sober engravings--portraits of men in +wigs and breastplates. He took pleasure in these and also in some +first editions, containing the original plates, which, when you knew +him well, he produced from the bookcase and descanted on their value +and rarity. + +Mr. Norris had always an excellent cigar to offer you, and he pressed +you to taste of his old port, and his Chartreuse; there was whiskey +for you too, if you cared to take it, and allusion was made to its +age. But it was neither an influence nor a characteristic of his +rooms; the port wine was. If there was fruit on the sideboard, there +was also pounded sugar; and it is such detail as the pounded sugar +that announces an inveterate bachelorhood. Some men are born +bachelors. And when a man is born a bachelor, the signs unmistakable +are hardly apparent at thirty; it is not until the fortieth year is +approached that the fateful markings become recognizable. James +Norris was forty-two, and was therefore a full-fledged bachelor. He +was a bachelor in the complete equipment of his chambers. He was +bachelor in his arm-chair and his stock of wine; his hospitality was +that of a bachelor, for a man who feels instinctively that he will +never own a "house and home" constructs the materiality of his life +in chambers upon a fuller basis than the man who feels instinctively +that he will, sooner or later, exchange the perch-like existence of +his chambers for the nest-like completeness of a home in South +Kensington. + +James Norris was of an excellent county family in Essex. He had a +brother in the army, a brother in the Civil Service, and a brother in +the Diplomatic Service. He had also a brother who composed somewhat +unsuccessful waltz tunes, who borrowed money, and James thought that +his brother caused him some anxiety of mind. The eldest brother, John +Norris, lived at the family place, Halton Grange, where he stayed +when he went on the Eastern circuit. James was far too securely a +gentleman to speak much of Halton Grange; nevertheless, the flavour +of landed estate transpired in the course of conversation. He has +returned from circuit, having finished up with a partridge drive, +etc. + +James Norris was a sensualist. His sensuality was recognizable in the +close-set eyes and in the sharp prominent chin (he resembled vaguely +the portrait of Baudelaire in _Les Fleurs du Mal_); he never spoke of +his amours, but occasionally he would drop an observation, especially +if he were talking to Mike Fletcher, that afforded a sudden glimpse +of a soul touched if not tainted with erotism. But James Norris was +above all things prudent, and knew how to keep vice well in hand. + +Like another, he had had his love story, or that which in the life of +such a man might pass for a love story. He had flirted a great deal +when he was thirty, with a married woman. She had not troubled, she +had only slightly eddied, stirred with a few ripples the placidity of +a placid stream of life. In hours of lassitude it pleased him to +think that she had ruined his life. Man is ever ready to think that +his failure comes from without rather than from within. He wrote to +her every week a long letter, and spent a large part of the long +vacation in her house in Yorkshire, telling her that he had never +loved any one but her. + +James Norris was an able lawyer, and he was an able lawyer for three +reasons. First, because he was a clear-headed man of the world, who +had not allowed his intelligence to rust;--it formed part of the +routine of his life to read some pages of a standard author before +going to bed; he studied all the notorious articles that appeared in +the reviews, attempting the assimilation of the ideas which seemed to +him best in our time. Secondly, he was industrious, and if he led an +independent life, dining frequently in a tavern instead of touting +for briefs in society, and so harmed himself, such misadventure was +counterbalanced by his industry and his prudence. Thirdly, his +sweetness and geniality made him a favourite with the bench. He had +much insight into human nature, he studied it, and could detect +almost at once the two leading spirits on a jury; and he was always +aware of the idiosyncrasies of the judge he was pleading before, and +knew how to respect and to flatter them. + +Charles Stokes was the oldest man who frequented Hall's chambers, and +his venerable appearance was an anomaly in a company formed +principally of men under forty. In truth, Charles Stokes was not more +than forty-six or seven, but he explained that living everywhere, and +doing everything, had aged him beyond his years. In mind, however, he +was the youngest there, and his manner was often distressingly +juvenile. He wore old clothes which looked as if they had not been +brushed for some weeks, and his linen was of dubious cleanliness, and +about his rumpled collar there floated a half-tied black necktie. +Mike, who hated all things that reminded him of the casualness of +this human frame, never was at ease in his presence, and his eye +turned in disgust from sight of the poor old gentleman's trembling +and ossified fingers. His beard was long and almost white; he +snuffed, and smoked a clay pipe, and sat in the arm-chair which stood +in the corner beneath the screen which John Norton had left to Hall. + +He was always addressed as Mr. Stokes; Hall complimented him and kept +him well supplied with whiskey-and-water. He was listened to on +account of his age--that is to say, on account of his apparent age, +and on account of his gentleness. Harding had described him as one +who talked learned nonsense in sweetly-measured intonations. But +although Harding ridiculed him, he often led him into conversation, +and listened with obvious interest, for Mr. Stokes had drifted +through many modes and manners of life, and had in so doing acquired +some vague knowledge. + +He had written a book on the ancient religions of India, which he +called the _Cradleland of Arts and Creeds_, and Harding, ever on the +alert to pick a brain however poor it might be, enticed him into +discussion in which frequent allusion was made to Vishnu and Siva. + +Yes, drifted is the word that best expresses Mr. Stokes' passage +through life--he had drifted. He was one of the many millions who +live without a fixed intention, without even knowing what they +desire; and he had drifted because in him strength and weakness stood +at equipoise; no defect was heavy enough for anchor, nor was there +any quality large enough for sufficient sail; he had drifted from +country to country, from profession to profession, whither winds and +waves might bear him. + +"Of course I'm a failure," was a phrase that Mr. Stokes repeated with +a mild, gentle humour, and without any trace of bitterness. He spoke +of himself with the naïve candour of a docile school-boy, who has +taken up several subjects for examination and been ploughed in them +all. For Mr. Stokes had been to Oxford, and left it without taking a +degree. Then he had gone into the army, and had proved himself a +thoroughly inefficient soldier, and more than any man before or +after, had succeeded in rousing the ire of both adjutant and colonel. +It was impossible to teach him any drill; what he was taught to-day +he forgot to-morrow; when the general came down to inspect, the +confusion he created in the barrack-yard had proved so complex, that +for a second it had taxed the knowledge of the drill-sergeant to get +the men straight again. + +Mr. Stokes was late at all times and all occasions: he was late for +drill, he was late for mess, he was late for church; and when sent +for he was always found in his room, either learning a part or +writing a play. His one passion was theatricals; and wherever the +regiment was stationed, he very soon discovered those who were +disposed to get up a performance of a farce. + +When he left the army he joined the Indian bar, and there he applied +himself in his own absent-minded fashion to the study of Sanscrit, +neglecting Hindustani, which would have been of use to him in his +profession. Through India, China, and America he had drifted. In New +York he had edited a newspaper; in San Francisco he had lectured, and +he returned home with an English nobleman who had engaged him as +private secretary. + +When he passed out of the nobleman's service he took chambers in the +Temple, and devoted his abundant leisure to writing his memoirs, and +the pleasantest part of his life began. The Temple suited him +perfectly, its Bohemianism was congenial to him, the library was +convenient, and as no man likes to wholly cut himself adrift from his +profession, the vicinity of the law courts, and a modicum of legal +conversation in the evening, sufficed to maintain in his +absent-minded head the illusion that he was practising at the bar. +His chambers were bare and dreary, unadorned with spoils from India +or China. Mr. Stokes retained nothing; he had passed through life +like a bird. He had drifted, and all things had drifted from him; he +did not even possess a copy of his _Cradleland of Arts and Creeds_. +He had lost all except a small property in Kent, and appeared to be +quite alone in the world. + +Mr. Stokes talked rarely of his love affairs, and his allusions were +so partial that nothing exact could be determined about him. It was, +however, noticed that he wore a gold bracelet indissolubly fastened +upon his right wrist, and it was supposed that an Indian princess had +given him this, and that a goldsmith had soldered it upon him in her +presence, as she lay on her death-bed. It was noticed that a young +girl came to see him at intervals, sometimes alone, sometimes +accompanied by her aunt. Mr. Stokes made no secret of this young +person, and he spoke of her as his adopted daughter. Mr. Stokes dined +at a theatrical club. All men liked him; he was genial and harmless. + +Mr. Joseph Silk was the son of a London clergyman. He was a tall, +spare young man, who was often met about the Temple, striding towards +his offices or the library. He was comically careful not to say +anything that might offend, and nervously concerned to retreat from +all persons and things which did not seem to him to offer +possibilities of future help; and his assumed geniality and +good-fellowship hung about him awkwardly, like the clothes of a +broad-chested, thick-thighed man about miserable limbs. For some time +Silk had been seriously thinking of cutting himself adrift from all +acquaintanceship with Hall. He had, until now, borne with his +acquaintanceship because Hall was connected with a society journal +that wrote perilously near the law of libel; several times the paper +had been threatened with actions, but had somehow, much to Silk's +chagrin, managed to escape. All the actionable paragraphs had been +discussed with Silk; on each occasion Hall had come down to his +chambers for advice, and he felt sure that he would be employed in +the case when it did come off. But unfortunately this showed no signs +of accomplishment. Silk read the paper every week for the paragraph +that was to bring him fame; he would have given almost anything to be +employed "in a good advertising case." But he had noticed that +instead of becoming more aggressive and personal, that week by week +the newspaper was moderating its tone. In the last issue several +paragraphs had caught his eye, which could not be described otherwise +than as complimentary; there were also several new pages of +advertisements; and these robbed him of all hope of an action. He +counted the pages, "twelve pages of advertisements--nothing further +of a questionable character will go into that paper," thought he, and +forthwith fell to considering Hall's invitation to "come in that +evening, if he had nothing better to do." He had decided that he +would not go, but at the last moment had gone, and now, as he sat +drinking whiskey-and-water, he glanced round the company, thinking it +might injure him if it became known that he spent his evenings there, +and he inwardly resolved he would never again be seen in Hall's +rooms. + +Silk had been called to the bar about seven years. The first years he +considered he had wasted, but during the last four he applied himself +to his profession. He had determined "to make a success of life," +that was how he put it to himself. He had, during the last four +years, done a good deal of "devilling"; he had attended at the Old +Bailey watching for "soups" with untiring patience. But lately, +within the last couple of years, he had made up his mind that waiting +for "soups" at the Old Bailey was not the way to fame or fortune. His +first idea of a path out of his present circumstances was through +Hall and the newspaper; but he had lately bethought himself of an +easier and wider way, one more fruitful of chances and beset with +prizes. This broad and easy road to success which he had lately begun +to see, wound through his father's drawing-room. London clergymen +have, as a rule, large salaries and abundant leisure, and young Silk +determined to turn his father's leisure to account. The Reverend Silk +required no pressing. "Show me what line to take, and I will take +it," said he; and young Silk, knowing well the various firms of +solicitors that were dispensing such briefs as he could take, +instructed his father when and where he should exercise his tea-table +agreeabilities, and forthwith the reverend gentleman commenced his +social wrigglings. There were teas and dinners, and calls, and lying +without end. Over the wine young Silk cajoled the senior member of +the firm, and in the drawing-room, sitting by the wife, he alluded to +his father's philanthropic duties, which he relieved with such +sniggering and pruriency as he thought the occasion demanded. + +About six months ago, Mr. Joseph Silk had accidentally learnt, in the +treasurer's offices, that the second floor in No. 5, Paper Buildings +was unoccupied. He had thought of changing his chambers, but a second +floor in Paper Buildings was beyond his means. But two or three days +after, as he was walking from his area in King's Bench Walk to the +library, he suddenly remembered that the celebrated advocate, Sir +Arthur Haldane, lived on the first floor in Paper Buildings. Now at +his father's house, or in one of the houses his father frequented, he +might meet Sir Arthur; indeed, a meeting could easily be arranged. +Here Mr. Silk's sallow face almost flushed with a little colour, and +his heart beat as his little scheme pressed upon his mind. Dreading +an obstacle, he feared to allow the thought to formulate; but after a +moment he let it slip, and it said--"Now if I were to take the second +floor, I should often meet Sir Arthur on the doorstep and staircase. +What an immense advantage it would be to me when Stoggard and Higgins +learnt that I was on terms of friendship with Sir Arthur. I know as a +positive fact that Stoggard and Higgins would give anything to get +Sir Arthur for some of their work.... But the rent is very heavy in +Paper Buildings. I must speak to father about it." A few weeks after, +Mr. Joseph transferred his furniture to No. 2, Paper Buildings; and +not long after he had the pleasure of meeting Sir Arthur at dinner. + +Mr. Silk's love affairs were neither numerous nor interesting. He had +spent little of his time with women, and little of his money upon +women, and his amativeness had led him into no wilder exploit than +the seduction of his laundress's daughter, by whom he had had a +child. Indeed, it had once been whispered that the mother, with the +child in her arms, had knocked at King's Bench Walk and had insisted +on being admitted. Having not the slightest knowledge or perception +of female nature, he had extricated himself with difficulty from the +scandal by which he was menaced, and was severely mulcted before the +girl was induced to leave London. About every three months she wrote +to him, and these letters were read with horror and burnt in +trembling haste; for Mr. Joseph Silk was now meditating for +matrimonial and legal purposes one of the daughters of one of the +solicitors he had met in Paper Buildings, and being an exceedingly +nervous, ignorant, and unsympathetic man in all that did not concern +his profession, was vastly disturbed at every echo of his +indiscretion. + +Harding, in reply to a question as to what he thought of Silk, said-- + +"What do I think of Silk? Cotton back" ... and every one laughed, +feeling the intrinsic truth of the judgement. + +Mr. George Cooper was Mr. Joseph Silk's friend. Cooper consulted Silk +on every point. Whenever he saw a light in Silk's chambers he +thrilled a little with anticipation of the pleasant hour before him, +and they sat together discussing the abilities of various eminent +judges and barristers. Silk told humorous anecdotes of the judges; +Cooper was exercised concerning their morality, and enlarged +anxiously on the responsibility of placing a man on the Bench without +having full knowledge of his private life. Silk listened, puffing at +his pipe, and to avoid committing himself to an opinion, asked Cooper +to have another glass of port. Before they parted allusion was made +to the law-books that Cooper was writing--Cooper was always bringing +out new editions of other people's books, and continually exposed the +bad law they wrote in his conversation. He had waited his turn like +another for "soups" at the Bailey, and like another had grown weary +of waiting; besides, the meditative cast of his mind enticed him +towards chamber practice and away from public pleading before judge +and jury. Silk sought "a big advertising case"; he desired the +excitement of court, and, though he never refused any work, he +dreaded the lonely hours necessary for the perfect drawing up of a +long indictment. Cooper was very much impressed with Silk's +abilities; he thought him too hard and mechanical, not sufficiently +interested in the science of morals; but these defects of character +were forgotten in his homage to his friend's worldly shrewdness. For +Cooper was unendowed with worldly shrewdness, and, like all dreamers, +was attracted by a mind which controlled while he might only attempt +to understand. Cooper's aspirations towards an ideal tickled Silk's +mind as it prepared its snares. Cooper often invited Silk to dine +with him at the National Liberal Club; Silk sometimes asked Cooper to +dine with him at the Union. Silk and Cooper were considered alike, +and there were many points in which their appearances coincided. +Cooper was the shorter man of the two, but both were tall, thin, +narrow, and sallow complexioned; both were essentially clean, +respectable, and middle-class. + +Cooper was the son of a Low Church bishop who had gained his mitre by +temperance oratory, and what his Lordship was in the cathedral, +Cooper was in the suburban drawing-rooms where radical politics and +the woman's cause were discussed. When he had a brief he brought it +to the library to show it; he almost lived in the library. He arrived +the moment it was opened, and brought a packet of sandwiches so as +not to waste time going out to lunch. His chambers were furnished +without taste, but the works of Comte and Spencer showed that he had +attempted to think; and the works of several socialistic writers +showed that he had striven to solve the problem of human misery. On +the table were several novels by Balzac, which conversation with +Harding had led him to purchase and to read. He likewise possessed a +few volumes of modern poetry, but he freely confessed that he +preferred Pope, Dryden, and Johnson; and it was impossible to bring +him to understand that De Quincey was more subtle and suggestive than +the author of London. + +Generally our souls are made of one conspicuous modern mental aspect; +but below this aspect we are woven and coloured by the spirit of some +preceding century, our chance inheritance, and Cooper was a sort of +product of the pedantry of Johnson and the utilitarian mysticism of +Comte. Perhaps the idea nearest to Cooper's heart was "the woman's +cause." The misery and ignominy of human life had affected him, and +he dreamed of the world's regeneration through women; and though well +aware that Comte and Spencer advocate the application of experience +in all our many mental embarrassments, he failed to reconsider +his beliefs in female virtue, although frequently pressed to do +so by Mike. Some personal animosity had grown out of their desire +to convince each other. Cooper had once even meditated Mike's +conversion, and Mike never missed an opportunity of telling some +story which he deemed destructive of Cooper's faith. His faith was +to him what a microscope is to a scientist, and it enabled him to +discover the finest characteristics in the souls of bar-girls, chorus +girls, and prostitutes; and even when he fell, and they fell, his +belief in their virtue and the nobility of their womanly instincts +remained unshaken. + +Mike had just finished a most racy story concerning his first +introduction to a certain countess. Cooper had listened in silence, +but when Mike turned at the end of his tale and asked him what he +thought of his conduct, Cooper rose from his chair. + +"I think you behaved like a blackguard." + +In a moment Mike was aware he had put himself in the wrong--the story +about the countess could not be told except to his destruction in any +language except his own, and he must therefore forbear to strike +Cooper and swallow the insult. + +"You ass, get out; I can't quarrel with you on such a subject." + +The embarrassment was increased by Cooper calling to Silk and asking +if he were coming with him. The prudent Silk felt that to stay was to +signify his approval of Mike's conduct in the case of the indiscreet +countess. To leave with Cooper was to write himself down a prig, +expose himself to the sarcasm of several past masters in the art of +gibing, and to make in addition several powerful enemies. But the +instinct not to compromise himself in any issue did not desert him, +and rushing after Cooper he attempted the peace-maker. He knew the +attempt would mean no more than some hustling in the doorway, and +some ineffectual protestation, and he returned a few minutes after to +join in the ridicule heaped upon the unfortunate Cooper, and to vow +inwardly that this was his last evening in Bohemia. + +By the piano, smoking a clay pipe, there sat a large, rough, strong +man. His beard was bristly and flame-coloured, his face was crimson +and pimply; lion-like locks hung in profusion about the collar of his +shabby jacket. His linen was torn and thin; crumpled was the necktie, +and nearly untied, and the trousers were worn and frayed, and the +boots heavy. He looked as if he could have carried a trunk +excellently well, but as that thought struck you your eyes fell upon +his hands, which were the long, feminine-shaped hands generally found +in those of naturally artistic temperament, nearly always in those +who practise two or more of the arts. Sands affected all the arts. +Enumerate: He played snatches of Bach on the violin, on the piano, +and on the organ; he composed fragments for all three instruments. He +painted little landscapes after (a long way after) the manner of +Corot, of whom he could talk until the small hours in the morning if +an occasional drink and cigar were forthcoming. He modelled little +statuettes in wax, cupids and nymphs, and he designed covers for +books. He could do all these things a little, and not stupidly, +although inefficiently. He had been a volunteer, and therefore wrote +on military subjects, and had on certain occasions been permitted to +criticize our naval defences and point out the vices and shortcomings +in our military system in the leading evening papers. He was +generally seen with a newspaper under his arm going towards Charing +Cross or Fleet Street. He never strayed further west than Charing +Cross, unless he was going to a "picture show," and there was no +reason why he should pass Ludgate Circus, for further east there were +neither newspapers nor restaurants. He was quite without vanity, and +therefore without ambition, Buddha was never more so, not even after +attaining the Nirvana. A picture show in Bond Street, a half-crown +dinner at Simpson's, or the Rainbow, coffee and cigars after, was all +that he desired; give him that, and he was a pleasant companion who +would remain with you until you turned him out, or in charity, for he +was often homeless, allowed him to sleep on your sofa. + +Sands was not a member of the Temple, but Hall's rooms were ever a +refuge to the weary--there they might rest, and there was there ever +for them a drink and a mouthful of food. And there Sands had met the +decayed barrister who held the rooms opposite; which, although he had +long ceased to occupy, and had no use for, he still wished to own, if +he could do so without expense, and this might be done by letting two +rooms, and reserving one for himself. + +The unwary barrister, believing in the solvency of whoever he met at +Hall's, intrusted his chambers to Sands, without demanding the rent +in advance. A roof to sleep under had been the chief difficulty in +Sands' life. He thought not at all of a change of clothes, and clean +linen troubled him only slightly. Now almost every want seemed +provided for. Coals he could get from Hall, also occasional +half-crowns; these sufficed to pay for his breakfast; a dinner he +could generally "cadge," and if he failed to do so, he had long ago +learnt to go without. It was hard not to admire his gentleness, his +patience and forbearance. If you refused to lend him money he showed +no faintest trace of anger. Hall's friends were therefore delighted +that the chambers opposite were let on conditions so favourable to +Sands; they anticipated with roars of laughter the scene that would +happen at the close of the year, and looked forward to seeing, at +least during the interim, their friend in clean clothes, and reading +"his copy" in the best journals. But the luxury of having a fixed +place to sleep in, stimulated, not industry, but vicious laziness of +the most ineradicable kind. Henceforth Sands abandoned all effort to +help himself. Uncombed, unwashed, in dirty clothes, he lay in an +arm-chair through all the morning, rising from time to time to mess +some paint into the appearance of some incoherent landscape, or to +rasp out some bars of Beethoven on his violin. + +"Never did I imagine any one so idle; he is fairly putrid with +idleness," said Hall after a short visit. "Would you believe it, he +has only ninepence for sole shield between him and starvation. The +editor of the _Moon_ has just telegraphed for the notice he should +have written of the Academy, and the brute is just sending a +'wire'--'nothing possible this week.' Did any one ever hear of such a +thing? To-night he won't dine, and he could write the notice in an +hour." + +Besides having contributed to almost every paper in London, from the +_Times_ downwards, Sands had held positions as editor and sub-editor +of numerous journals. But he had lost each one in turn, and was +beginning to understand that he was fated to die of poverty, and was +beginning to grow tired of the useless struggle. No one was better +organized to earn his living than Peter Sands, and no one failed more +lamentably. Had fortune provided him with a dinner at Simpson's, a +cigar and a cup of coffee, he would have lived as successfully as +another. But our civilization is hard upon those who are only +conversationalists, it does not seem to have taken them into account +in its scheme, and, in truth, Peter could not do much more than +æstheticize agreeably. + +Paul L'Estrange admitted freely that he was not fitted for a lawyer; +but even before he explained that he considered himself one of those +beings who had slipped into a hole that did not fit them, it was +probable that you had already begun to consider the circumstances +that had brought him to choose the law as a profession; for his vague +intelligence "where nothing was and all things seemed," lay mirrored +in his mild eyes like a landscape in a pool. Over such a partial and +meditative a mind as L'Estrange's, the Temple may exercise a +destructive fascination; and since the first day, when a boy he had +walked through the closes gathering round the church, and had heard +of the knights, had seen the old dining-hall with its many +inscriptions, he had never ceased to dream of the Temple--that relic +of the past, saved with all its traditions out of the ruin of time; +and the memory of his cousin's chambers, and the association and +mutuality of the life of the Temple, the picturesqueness of the wigs +and gowns passing, and the uncommonness of it all had taken root and +grown, overshadowing other ideals, and when the time came for him to +choose a profession, no choice was open to him but the law, for the +law resided in the Temple. + +Soon after his father died, the family property was sold and the +family scattered; some went to Australia, some to Canada; but +L'Estrange had inherited a hundred a year from a grand-aunt, and he +lived on that, and what he made by writing in the newspapers, for of +course no one had thought of intrusting him with a brief; and what he +made by journalism varied from a hundred and fifty to two hundred and +fifty a year. Whenever a new scare arose he was busy among blue-books +in the library. + +L'Estrange loved to dine at the Cock tavern with a party of men from +the inn, and to invite them to his chambers to take coffee +afterwards. And when they had retired, and only one remained, he +would say, "What a nice fellow so-and-so is; you do meet a nice lot +of fellows in the Temple, don't you?" It seemed almost sufficient +that a man should belong to the Temple for L'Estrange to find him +admirable. The dinners in hall were especially delightful. Between +the courses he looked in admiration on the portraits and old oak +carvings, and the armorial bearings, and would tell how one bencher +had been debarred from election as treasurer because he had, on three +occasions, attended dinner without partaking of any food. Such an +insult to the kitchen could not be forgiven. L'Estrange was full of +such stories, and he relished their historical flavour as a gourmet +an unusually successful piece of cooking. He regarded the Temple and +its associations with love. + +When he had friends to dinner in his rooms the dinner was always +brought from the hall; he ordered it himself in the large spacious +kitchen, which he duly admired, and prying about amid the various +meats, he chose with care, and when told that what he desired could +not be obtained that day, he continued his search notwithstanding. He +related that on one occasion he discovered a greengage pie, after +many assurances that there was no such thing in the kitchen. If he +was with a friend he laid his hand on his shoulder, and pointing out +an inscription, he said, "Now one thing I notice about the Temple is +that never is an occasion missed of putting up an inscription; and +note the legal character of the inscriptions, how carefully it is +explained, that, for instance, the cloisters, although they are for +the use of the Inner as well as the Middle Temple, yet it was the +Middle Temple that paid to have them put up, and therefore owns the +property." L'Estrange always spoke of the gardens as "our gardens," +of the church as "our church." He was an authority on all that +related to the Temple, and he delighted in a friend in whom he might +confide; and to walk about the courts with Hall or Sands, stopping +now and then to note some curious piece of sculpture or date, and +forthwith to relate an anecdote that brought back some of the +fragrance and colour of old time, and to tell how he intended to work +such curious facts into the book he was writing on the Temple, was +the essence and the soul of this dreamy man's little life. + +Saturday night is the night of dalliance in the Temple, and not +unfrequently on Sunday morning, leaving a lady love, L'Estrange would +go to church--top hat, umbrella, and prayer-book--and having a sense +of humour, he was amused by the incongruity. + +"I have left the accursed thing behind me," he once said to Mr. +Collier, and by such facetiousness had seriously annoyed the immense +and most staid Mr. Collier. + +A gaunt, hollow-eyed man was he, worn to a thread by diabetes; and to +keep the disease in check, strictly dieted. His appearance was so +suggestive of illness, that whenever he was present the conversation +always turned on what he might eat and what he must refrain from +touching. A large, gray-skinned man, handsome somewhat like a figure +of Melancholy carved out of limestone. Since he had left Oxford, +where he had taken a double first, he had failed--at the bar, in +literature, and in love. It was said that he had once written an +absurd letter asking a lady, who hoped to marry a duke, to go to +South America with him. This letter had been his only adventure. + +He was like a bookcase, a store of silent learning, with this +difference--from the bookcase much may be extracted, from Mr. Edmund +Collier nothing. He reminded you of a dry well, a London fog, an +abandoned quarry, the desert of Sahara, and the North Pole; of all +dull and lugubrious things he seemed the type. Nature had not +afflicted him with passions nor any original thought, he therefore +lived an exemplary existence, his mind fortified with exemplary +opinions, doctrines, and old saws. + +"I wonder if he is alive," Mike had once said. + +"_Hé, hé, tout au plus_," Harding had replied, sardonically. + +Collier was now learning Sanscrit and writing an article for the +_Quarterly_. L'Estrange used, as he said, "to dig at him," and after +many exhausting efforts brought up interesting facts to the effect +that he had just finished his treatise on the Greek participle, and +was about to launch a volume of verses mainly addressed to children. + +Collier had once possessed considerable property, but he had invested +some in a newspaper of which he was editor, and he had squandered +much in vague speculation. From the account he gave of his losses it +was difficult to decide whether he had been moved by mercenary or +charitable temptations. Now only the merest competence remained. He +lived in a small garret where no solicitor had penetrated, studying +uninteresting literatures, dimly interested in all that the world did +not care for. He lived in the gloom of present failure, embittered by +the memory of past successes, wearied with long illness, and +therefore constrained to live like a hermit, never appearing anywhere +except in Hall's rooms. + +Even Mr. Horace Baird, the recluse of the Temple, was sometimes met +in Hall's chambers. When he lifted his hat, the white locks growing +amid the black, magnificent masses of hair caught the eye, and set +the mind thinking on the brevity of youth, or wondering what +ill-fortune had thus done the work of time. A passing glance told you +that he was unsuccessful in his profession and unfortunate in his +life, and if you spoke to him, an affected gaiety of manner confirmed +the truth of the first impression. Near him sat a patriarchal +barrister who had travelled in the colonies, had had political +appointments, and in vague hopes of further political appointments +professed advanced views, which he endeavoured to redeem with +flavourless humour. There were also two young men who shared chambers +and took in pupils. Fine tales their laundress told of the state of +their sitting-room in the morning, the furniture thrown about, the +table-cloth drenched in whiskey. + +There was a young man whose hobby was dress and chorus girls. There +was a young man whose hobby was pet birds; he talked about the +beautiful South American bird he had just bought, and he asked you to +come and see it taking its bath in the morning. Several persons were +writing law-books, which their authors hoped would rival _Chitty on +Contracts_. + +The Temple, like a fatherland, never loses its influence over its +children. He who has lived in the Temple will return to the Temple. +All things are surrendered for the Temple. All distances are +traversed to reach the Temple. The Temple is never forgotten. The +briefless barrister, who left in despair and became Attorney-General +of New South Wales, grows homesick, surrenders his position, and +returns. The young squire wearies in his beautiful country house, and +his heart is fixed in the dingy chambers, which he cannot relinquish, +and for which wealth cannot compensate him. Even the poor clerks do +not forget the Temple, and on Saturday afternoons they prowl about +their old offices, and often give up lucrative employments. They are +drawn by the Temple as by a magnet, and must live again in the shadow +of the old inns. The laundresses' daughters pass into wealthy +domesticities, but sooner or later they return to drudge again in the +Temple. + +"How awfully jolly!--I do enjoy an evening like this," said Mike, +when the guests had departed. + +At that moment a faint footstep was heard on the landing; Hall rushed +to see who was there, and returned with two women. They explained +that they wanted a drink. Mike pressed them to make themselves at +home, and Hall opened another bottle. + +"How comfortable you bachelors are here by yourselves," said one. + +"I should think we are just; no fear of either of us being such fools +as to break up our home by getting married," replied Mike. + +Sometimes Mike and Hall returned early from the restaurant, and wrote +from eight to eleven; then went out for a cup of coffee and a prowl, +beating up the Strand for women. They stayed out smoking and talking +at the corners till the streets were empty. Once they sent a couple +of harlots to rouse a learned old gentleman who lived in Brick Court, +and with bated breath listened from the floor beneath to the dialogue +above. + +But to continue this life, which he enjoyed so intensely that he had +even lost his desire to gamble, Mike was forced to borrow. Knowing +how such things are bruited about, Mike chose to go to a woman rather +than to any of his men friends. Mrs. Byril lent him twenty pounds, +wherefore he thought it necessary to lecture Hall for one whole +evening on the immorality of ever accepting money from women; and he +remained for weeks in idleness, smoking and drinking in restaurants +and bar rooms, deaf to Frank's many pleadings for "copy." At last he +roused a little, and feeling he could do nothing in London, proposed +to come and stay with Frank in his cottage at Marlow, and there write +the letters. + +It was a bright October afternoon, Frank had gone to the station, and +Lizzie, to appease the baby, had unbuttoned her dress. The little +servant-girl who assisted with the house-work was busy in the +kitchen; for the fatted calf had been killed--that is to say, a pair +of soles, a steak, and a partridge were in course of preparation. +Lizzie thought of the partridge. She had omitted soup from the dinner +so that she might herself see to the fish; the steak, unless +something quite unforeseen occurred, Annie would be able to manage, +but the partridge! Lizzie determined she would find an excuse for +leaving the room; Frank would not like it, but anything would be +better than that the bird should appear in a raw or cindery +condition, which would certainly be the case if she did not see to +it. The jam-pudding was boiling and would be taken out of the pot at +a fixed time. And with baby upon her breast, she watched Sally scrape +and clean the fish and beat the steak; then, hearing the front door +open, she buttoned her dress, put baby in his cot, and went to meet +her visitor. Mike said he had never seen her looking so well; but in +truth he thought she had grown fat and coarse; and in half an hour he +had realized all the detail of their misfortune. He guessed that she +had helped to cook the dinner, that the wine had come from the +public-house, that they had given up their room to him, and were +sleeping in some small cupboard-like place at the end of the passage. + +Of the many various unpleasantnesses of married life which had +crowded into his consciousness since he had been in the cottage, this +impressed him the most. He went to sleep thinking of it, and when he +sat down to write next morning (a little study had been arranged for +him), it was the first thought that stirred in him. + +"How fearfully unpleasant!--and after having been married for nearly +two years! I could not do it. If I were married--even if I were to +marry Lily, I should insist on having separate rooms. Even with +separate rooms marriage is intolerable. How much better to see her +sometimes, sigh for her from afar, and so preserve one's ideal. +Married! One day I should be sure to surprise her washing herself; +and I know of no more degrading spectacle than that of a woman +washing herself over a basin. Degas painted it once. I'd give +anything to have that picture." + +But he could not identify Lily as forming part of that picture; his +imagination did not help him, and he could only see her staid and +gracious, outside all the gross materialism of life. He felt that +Lily would never lose her dignity and loveliness, which in her were +one, and in his mind she ever stood like a fair statue out of reach +of the mud and the contumely of the common street; and ashamed, an +unsuccessful iconoclast, he could not do otherwise than kneel and +adore. + +And when at the end of a week he received an invitation to a ball +where he thought she would be, he must perforce obey, and go with +tremulous heart. She was engaged in a quadrille that passed to and +fro beneath blue tapestry curtains, and he noticed the spray of +lilies of the valley in her bodice, so emblematic did they seem of +her. Beneath the blue curtain she stood talking to her partner after +the dance; and he did not go to speak to her, but remained looking. +They only danced together twice; and that evening was realized by him +in a strangely intense and durable perception of faint scent and +fluent rhythm. The sense of her motion, of her frailness, lingered in +his soul ever afterwards. And he remembered ever afterwards the +moments he spent with her in a distant corner--the palm, the gold of +the screen, the movement of her white skirt as she sat down. All was, +as it were, bitten upon his soul--exquisite etchings! Even the pauses +in the conversation were remembered; pauses full of mute affection; +pauses full of thought unexpressed, falling in sharp chasms of +silence. In such hours and in such pauses is the essence of our +lives, the rest is adjunct and decoration. He watched, fearing each +man that looked through the doorway might claim her for the next +dance. His thought swept through his soul edgeways. Did he love her? +Would he love her always? And he was conscious of the contrast his +speech presented, to the tumult that raged and shrieked within him. +Yet he couldn't speak the word, and he cursed his little cowardice. + +The ball came and went--a little year with its four seasons; and when +in the hall he stood by her, helping her with her cloak (silk and +gray fur, folding the delicate line of the neck), and became aware +that even those last moments did not hold the word his soul was +whispering, he cursed his cowardice, and, weary of himself, he turned +down the dark street, feeling that he had lost his life. + +"Now all is ended," he thought, "I'm like a convict who attempted +escape and has been brought back and yoked again in the sweaty and +manacled gang; and I must continue in and bear with this life of +gross sensuality and dirty journalism, 'which I have borne and yet +must bear'--a wearisome repetition of what has been done and re-done +a thousand times, 'till death-like sleep shall steal on me,' and I +may hear some horrible lodging-house keeper 'breathe o'er my dying +brain a last monotony.' And in various degradations my intellect will +suffer, will decay; but with her refining and elevating influence, I +might be a great writer. It is certain that the kernel of Art is +aspiration for higher things; at all events, I should lead a cleanly +life. If I were married to her I should not write this book. It +certainly is a disgraceful book; and yet it amuses me." + +His thoughts paused, then an idea came, and with his pen he pursued +it and the quickly rising flight which followed for a couple of +hours. + +"Why should I not write and ask her to marry me?" He smiled at the +thought, but the thought was stronger than he, and he went to bed +thinking of her, and he rose thinking of her; and the desire to write +and tell her that he loved her and wanted her for wife persisted; he +shook it off a dozen times, but it grew more and more poignant, until +it settled on his heart, a lancinating pain which neither work nor +pleasure could remove. Daily he grew feebler, losing at each effort +some power of resistance. One day he took up the pen to write the +irrevocable. But the reality of the ink and paper frightened him. +"Will you be my wife?" seemed to him silly. Even in this crisis +self-esteem lay uppermost in his mind; and he wrote many letters +before he felt certain he had guarded himself against ridicule. At +last he folded up a sheet upon which he had written--"Dearest Lily, +you are the only woman I may love; will you allow me to love you for +ever?" He put this into an envelope and directed it; nothing remained +but to post it. The clock told him he could catch the post if he +started away at once, but he drew back, frightened at the reality of +the post-office, and decided to sleep over his letter. + +The night was full of Lily--fair, chaste dreams, whence he rose as +from a bath clothed in the samite of pure delight. While dressing he +felt sure that marriage--marriage with Lily must be the realization +of such dreams, and that it would be folly not to post his letter. +Still, it might be as well to hear the opinion of one who had taken +the important step, and after breakfast he drew Frank into +conversation about Lizzie. + +"I am quite happy," he said. "Lizzie is a good wife, and I love her +better to-day than the day I married her; but the price I paid for +her was too high. Mount Rorke has behaved shamefully, and so has +everybody but you. I never see any of the old lot now. Snowdown came +once to dine about a year ago, but I never go anywhere where Lizzie +is not asked. Mount Rorke has only written once since my marriage, +and then it was to say he never wished to see me again. The next I +heard was the announcement of his marriage." + +"So he has married again," said Mike, looking at Frank, and then he +thought--"So you who came from the top shall go to the bottom! Shall +he who came from the bottom go to the top?" + +"I have not heard yet of a child. I have tried to find out if one is +expected; but what does it matter?--Mount Rorke wouldn't give me a +penny-piece to save me from starvation, and I should have time to +starve a good many times before he goes off the hooks. I don't mind +telling you I'm about as hard up as a man possibly can be. I owe +three quarters' rent for my rooms in Temple Gardens, nearly two +hundred pounds. The Inn is pressing me, and I can't get three hundred +for my furniture, and I'm sure I paid more than fifteen hundred for +what there is there." + +"Why don't you sell a share in the paper?" + +"I have sold a small part of it, a very small part of it, a fifth, +and there is a fellow called Thigh--you know the fellow, he has +edited every stupid weekly that has appeared and disappeared for the +last ten years--well, he has got hold of a mug, and by all accounts a +real mug, one of the right sort, a Mr. Beacham Brown. Mr. Brown wants +a paper, and has commissioned Thigh to buy him one. Thigh wants me to +sell a half share in the _Pilgrim_ for a thousand, but I shall have +to give Thigh back four hundred; and I shall--that is to say, I shall +if I agree to Thigh's terms--become assistant editor at a salary of +six pounds a week; two pounds a week of which I shall have to hand +over to Thigh, who comes in as editor at a salary of ten pounds a +week. All the staff will be engaged on similar conditions. Thigh is +'working' Beacham Brown beautifully--he won't have a sixpence to +bless himself with when Thigh has done with him." + +"And are you going to accept Thigh's terms?" + +"Not if I can possibly help it. If your articles send up the +circulation and my new advertising agent can do the West End +tradesmen for a few more advertisements, I shall stand off and wait +for better terms. My new advertising agent is a wonder, the finest in +Christendom. The other day a Bond Street jeweller who advertises with +us came into my office. He said, 'Sir, I have come to ask you if you +circulate thirty thousand copies a week.' 'Well,' I said, 'perhaps +not quite.' 'Then, sir,' he replied, 'you will please return me my +money; I gave your agent my advertisement upon his implicit assurance +that you circulated thirty thousand a week.' I said there must be +some mistake; Mr. Tomlinson happens to be in the office, if you'll +allow me I'll ask him to step down-stairs. I touched the bell, and +told the boy to ask Mr. Tomlinson to step into the office. 'Mr. +Tomlinson,' I said, 'Mr. Page says that he gave you his advertisement +on our implicit assurance that we circulated thirty thousand copies +weekly. Did you tell him that?' Quite unabashed, Tomlinson answered, +'I told Mr. Page that we had more than thirty thousand readers a +week. We send to ten line regiments and five cavalry regiments--each +regiment consists of, let us say, eight hundred. We send to every +club in London, and each club has on an average a thousand members. +Why, sir,' exclaimed Tomlinson, turning angrily on the jeweller, 'I +might have said that we had a hundred thousand readers and I should +have still been under the mark!' The jeweller paid for his +advertisement and went away crestfallen. Such a man as Tomlinson is +the very bone and muscle of a society journal." + +"And the nerves too," said Mike. + +"Better than the contributors who want to write about the relation +between art and morals." + +The young men laughed mightily. + +"And what will you do," said Mike, "if you don't settle with Thigh?" + +"Perhaps my man will be able to pick up another advertisement or two; +perhaps your articles may send up the circulation. One thing is +certain, things can't go on as they are; at this rate I shall not be +able to carry the paper on another six months." + +The conversation fell, and Mike remembered the letter in his side +pocket; it lay just over his heart. Frank's monetary difficulties had +affected his matrimonial aspirations. "For if the paper 'bursts up' +how shall I live, much less support a wife? Live! I shall always be +able to live, but to support a wife is quite another matter. Perhaps +Lily has some money. If she had five hundred a year I would marry +her; but I don't know if she has a penny. She must have some, a few +thousands--enough to pay the first expenses. To get a house and get +into the house would cost a thousand." A cloud passed over his face. +The householder, the payer of rates and taxes which the thought +evoked, jarred and caricatured the ideal, the ideal Mike Fletcher, +which in more or less consistent form was always present in his mind. +He who had always received, would have to make presents. The +engagement ring would cost five-and-twenty pounds, and where was he +to get the money? The ring he would have to buy at once; and his +entire fortune did not for the moment amount to ten pounds. Her +money, if she had any, would pay for the honeymoon; and it was only +right that a woman should pay for her honeymoon. They would go to +Italy. She was Italy! At least she was his idea of Italy. Italy! he +had never been there; he had always intended to keep Italy for his +wedding tour. He was virgin of Italy. So much virginity he had at all +events kept for his wife. She was the emblem and symbol of Italy. + +Venice rose into his eyes. He is in a gondola with her; the water is +dark with architrave and pillar; and a half moon floats in a +boundless sky But remembering that this is the Venice of a hundred +"chromos," his imagination filled the well-known water-way with +sunlight and maskers, creating the carnival upon the Grand Canal. +Laughing and mocking Loves; young nobles in blue hose, sword on +thigh, as in Shakespeare's plays; young brides in tumultuous satin, +with collars of translucent pearls; garlands reflected in the water; +scarves thrown about the ample bosoms of patrician matrons. Then the +brides, the nobles, the pearls, the loves, and the matrons disappear +in a shower of confetti. Wearying of Venice he strove to see +Florence, "the city of lilies"; but the phrase only suggested +flower-sellers. He intoxicated upon his love, she who to him was now +Italy. He imagined confidences, sudden sights of her face more +exquisite than the Botticelli women in the echoing picture galleries, +more enigmatic than the eyes of a Leonardo; and in these days of +desire, he lived through the torment of impersonal love, drawn for +the first time out of himself. All beautiful scenes of love from +books, pictures, and life floated in his mind. He especially +remembered a sight of lovers which he had once caught on an hotel +staircase. A young couple, evidently just returned from the theatre, +had entered their room; the woman was young, tall, and aristocratic; +she was dressed in some soft material, probably a dress of +cream-coloured lace in numberless flounces; he remembered that her +hair was abundant and shadowed her face. The effect of firelight +played over the hangings of the bed; she stood by the bed and raised +her fur cloak from her shoulders. The man was tall and thin, and the +light caught the points of the short sharp beard. The scene had +bitten itself into Mike's mind, and it reappeared at intervals +perfect as a print, for he sometimes envied the calm and +healthfulness of honourable love. + +"Great Scott! twelve o'clock!" Smiling, conscious of the incongruity, +he set to work, and in about three hours had finished a long letter, +in which he usefully advised "light o' loves" on the advantages of +foreign travel. + +"I wonder," he thought, "how I can write in such a strain while I'm +in love with her. What beastliness! I hate the whole thing. I desire +a new life; I have tried vice long enough and am weary of it; I'm not +happy, and if I were to gain the whole world it would be dust and +ashes without her. Then why not take that step which would bring her +to me?" He faced his cowardice angrily, and resolved to post the +letter. But he stopped before he had walked fifty yards, for his +doubts followed him, buzzing and stinging like bees. Striving to rid +himself of them, and weary of considering his own embarrassed +condition, he listened gladly to Lizzie, who deplored Mount Rorke's +cruelty and her husband's continuous ill luck. + +"I told him his family would never receive me; I didn't want to marry +him; for days I couldn't make up my mind; he can't say I persuaded +him into it." + +"But you are happy now; don't you like being married?" + +"Oh, yes, I should be happy enough if things only went better with +us. He is so terribly unlucky. No one works harder than Frank; he +often sits up till three o'clock in the morning writing. He tries +everything, but nothing seems to succeed with him. There's this +paper. I don't believe he has ever had a penny out of it. Tell me, +Mr. Fletcher, do you think it will ever succeed?" + +"Newspapers generally fail for want of a concerted plan of appeal to +a certain section of society kept steadily in view; they are nearly +always vague and undetermined; but I believe when four clever pens +are brought together, and write continuously, and with set purpose +and idea, that they can, that they must and invariably do create a +property worth at least twenty thousand pounds." + +"Frank has gone to the station to meet Thigh. I distrust that man +dreadfully; I hope he won't rob my poor husband. Frank told me to get +a couple of pheasants for dinner. Which way are you going? To the +post-office? Do you want a stamp?" + +"No, thank you, my letter is stamped." He held the letter in the box +unable to loose his fingers, embarrassed in the consideration whether +marriage would permit him to develop his artistic nature as he +intended. Lizzie was looking at him, and it was with difficulty that +he concealed from her the fact that he had not dropped his letter in +the box. + +When they returned to the cottage they found Thigh and Frank were +turning over the pages of the last number of the _Pilgrim_. + +"Just let's go through the paper," said Frank. "One, two, +three--twelve columns of paragraphs! and I'll bet that in every one +of those columns there is a piece of news artistic, political, or +social, which no other paper has got. Here are three articles, one +written by our friend here, one by me, and one by a man whose name I +am not at liberty to mention; but I may tell you he has written some +well-known books, and is a constant contributor to the _Fortnightly_; +here is a column of gossip from Paris excellently well done; here is +a short story ... What do you think the paper wants?" + +Thigh was a very small and very neatly-dressed man. His manner was +quiet and reserved, and he caressed a large fair moustache with his +left hand, on which a diamond ring sparkled. + +"I think it wants smartening up all round," he said. "You want to +make it smarter; people will have things bright nowadays." + +"Bright!" said Frank; "I don't know where you are going for +brightness nowadays. Just look at the other papers--here is the +_Club_--did you ever see such a rag? Here is the _Spy_--I don't think +you could tell if you were reading a number of last year or this week +if you didn't look at the date! I've given them up for news. I look +to see if they have got a new advertisement; if they have, I send +Tomlinson and see if I can get one too." + +Thigh made some judicious observations, and the conversation was +continued during dinner. Frank and Mike vying with each other to show +their deference to Thigh's literary opinions--Lizzie eager to know +what he thought of her dinner. + +Thigh said the turbot was excellent, that the cutlets were very nice, +that the birds were splendid; the jam pudding was voted delicious. +And they leaned back in their chairs, their eyes filled with the +torpor of digestion. Frank brought out a bottle of old port, the last +of a large supply which he had had from Mount Rorke's wine merchant. +The pleasure of the wine was in their stomachs, and under its +influence they talked of Tennyson, Leonardo da Vinci, Corot, and the +_Ingoldsby Legends_. The servant had brought in the lamp, cigars were +lighted, the clock struck nine. As yet not a word had been spoken of +the business, and seeing that Mike was deep in conversation with +Lizzie, Frank moved his chair towards Thigh, and said-- + +"Well, what about buying half of the paper?" + +"I'm quite ready to buy half the paper on the conditions I've already +offered you." + +"But they won't do. If I have to go smash, I may as well go smash for +a large sum as a small one. To clear myself of debts I must have five +hundred pounds." + +"Well, you'll get six hundred; you'll receive a thousand and you'll +give me back four hundred." + +"Yes, but I did not tell you that I have sold a small share in the +paper to an old schoolfellow of mine. When I have paid him I shall +have only two hundred, and that won't be of the slightest use to me." + +"Oh, you have sold part of the paper already, have you? How do you +know your friend will consent to be bought out? That complicates +matters." + +"My friend only did it to oblige me; he is only too anxious to be +bought out. He is in a fearful funk lest he should be compromised in +a libel action." + +"Oh, then I think it can be managed. Were I in your place I should +try and get rid of him for nothing. I can't offer you better terms; +it wouldn't pay me to do so; I might as well start a new paper." + +"Yes, but tell me, how can I get rid of him for nothing?" + +Thigh looked at Frank inquiringly, and apparently satisfied he drew +his chair nearer, stroked his moustache, and said, speaking under his +breath-- + +"Have you collected what money is owing to the paper lately? Have you +many outstanding debts?" + +"We have got some." + +"Well, don't collect any money that is owing, but make out a long +statement of the paper's liabilities; don't say a word about the +outstanding debts, and tell your friend that he is responsible as +part owner of the paper for this money. When you have sufficiently +frightened him, suggest that he should sign over his share to you, +you being a man of straw whom it would be useless to proceed against. +Or you might get your printer to press you for money--" + +"That won't be difficult." + +"Offer him a bill, and then mix the two accounts up together." + +At this moment Mike was speaking to Lizzie of love. She told him +there was no real happiness except in married life, assured him that +though they might be beggars to-day, she would not give up her +husband for all the wealth of the three kingdoms. + +Very anxious to ascertain the truth about married life, Mike pressed +Lizzie upon several points; the old ache awoke about his heart, and +again he resolved to regenerate his life, and love Lily and none but +her. He looked round the room, considering how he could get away. +Frank was talking business. He would not disturb him. No doubt Thigh +was concocting some swindle, but he (Mike) knew nothing of business; +he had a knack of turning the king at écarté, but was nowhere once +bills and the cooking of accounts were introduced. Should he post the +letter? That was the question, and it played in his ears like an +electric bell. Here was the letter; he could feel it through his +coat, lying over his heart, and there it had lain since he had +written it. + +Frank and Thigh continued talking; Lizzie went to the baby, and Mike +walked into the night, looking at the stars. He walked along the +white high-road--to him a road of dreams--towards the white town--to +him a town of chimeras--and leaning over the moon-lit river, shaking +himself free from the hallucination within and without him, he said-- + +"On one hand I shall belong to one woman. Her house shall be my +house, her friends shall be my friends; the others, the beautiful, +fascinating others, will cease to dream of me, I shall no longer be +their ideal. On the other hand I shall gain the nicest woman, and +surely it must be right to take, though it be for life, the nicest +woman in the world. She will supply what is wanting in my character; +together we shall attain a goal; alone I shall attain none. In twenty +years I shall be a foolish old bachelor whom no one cares for. I have +stated both cases--on which side does the balance turn?" + +The balance still stood at equipoise. A formless moon soared through +a white cloud wrack, and broken gold lay in the rising tide. The +sonorous steps of the policeman on the bridge startled him, and +obeying the impulse of the moment, he gave the officer the letter, +asking him to post it. He waited for some minutes, as if stupefied, +pursuing the consequences of his act even into distant years. No, he +would not send the letter just yet. But the officer had disappeared +in some by-streets, and followed by the spirits of future loves, Mike +ran till he reached the post-office, where he waited in nervous +apprehension. Presently steps were heard in the stillness, and +getting between him and the terrible slot, Mike determined to fight +for his letter if it were refused him. + +"I met you just now on the bridge and asked you to post a letter; +give it back to me, if you please. I've changed my mind." + +The officer looked at him narrowly, but he took the proffered +shilling, and returned the letter. + +"That was the narrowest squeak I've had yet," thought Mike. + +When he returned to the cottage he found Frank and Thigh still +together. + +"Mr. Beacham Brown," said Thigh, "is now half-proprietor of the +_Pilgrim_. The papers are signed. I came down quite prepared. I +believe in settling things right off. When Mrs. Escott comes in, we +will drink to the new _Pilgrim_, or, if you like it better, to the +old _Pilgrim_, who starts afresh with a new staff and scrip, and a +well-filled scrip too," he added, laughing vacuously. + +"I hope," said Mike, "that Holloway is not the shrine he is +journeying towards." + +"I hope your book won't bring us there." + +"Why, I didn't know you were going to continue--" + +"Oh, yes," said Thigh; "that is to say, if we can come to an +arrangement about the purchase," and Thigh lapsed into a stony +silence, as was his practice when conducting a bargain. + +"By God!" Mike thought, "I wish we were playing at écarté or poker. +I'm no good at business." + +"Well," he said at last, "what terms do you propose to offer me?" + +Thigh woke up. + +"I never bargain," he said. "I'll give you Beacham Brown's cheque for +a hundred and fifty if you will give me a receipt for three hundred," +and he looked inquiry out of his small, pale blue eyes, and Mike +noticed the diamond ring on the hand that caressed his moustache. + +"No," said Mike, "that isn't fair. You don't write a line of the +book. There is not even the excuse of commission, for the book is now +appearing." + +"Escott would not have paid you anything like that amount. I think +I'm treating you very liberally. Indeed I don't mind telling you that +I should not offer you anything like such terms if Beacham Brown were +not anxious to have the book; he read your last article in the train, +and came back raving about it." + +Bright pleasure passed across Mike's face; he thought Thigh had +slipped in the avowal, and he girt himself for resolute resistance +and cautious attack. But Thigh was the superior strategist. Mike was +led from the subject, and imperceptibly encouraged to speak of other +things, and without interruption he span paradoxes and scattered +jokes for ten minutes. Then the conversation dropped, and annoyed, +Mike fixed his eyes on Thigh, who sat in unmovable silence. + +"Well," said Mike, "what do you intend to do?" + +"About what?" said Thigh, with a half-waking stare. + +"About this book of mine. You know very well that if I take it to +another shop you'll find it difficult to get anything like as good a +serial. I know pretty well what talent is walking about Fleet +Street." + +Thigh said nothing, only raised his eyes as if Mike's words were full +of suggestion, and again beguiled, Mike rambled into various +criticisms of contemporary journalism. Friends were laughed at, and +the papers they edited were stigmatized as rags that lived upon the +ingenuity of the lies of advertising agents. When the conversation +again dropped, Thigh showed no inclination of returning to the book, +but, as before, sat in stony silence, and out of temper with himself, +Mike had to ask him again what the terms were. + +"I cannot offer you better terms than I have already done." + +"Very well; I'll take one hundred and fifty for the serial rights." + +"No, for the entire rights." + +"No, I'll be damned, I don't care what happens!" + +Then Frank joined in the discussion. Every one withdrew the offer he +had made, and all possibility of agreement seemed at an end. Somehow +it was suggested that Thigh should toss Mike whether he should pay +him two hundred or a hundred and fifty. The men exchanged questioning +looks, and at that moment Lizzie entered with a pack of cards, and +Thigh said-- + +"I'll play you at écarté--the best out of seven games." + +Mike realized at once the situation, and he hoped Frank would not +betray him. He saw that Thigh had been drinking. "God has given him +into my hands," he thought; and it was agreed that they should play +the best out of seven games for twenty-five pounds, and that the +loser should have the right to call for a return match. Mike knew +nothing of his opponent's play, but he did not for a moment suspect +him of superior skill. Such a thing could hardly be, and he decided +he would allow him to win the first games, watching carefully the +while, so that he might study his combinations and plans, and learn +in what measure he might pack and "bridge" the cards. There is much +in a shuffle, and already Mike believed him to be no more than an +ordinary club player, capable of winning a few sovereigns from a +young man fresh from the university; and although the cards Mike held +did not warrant such a course, he played without proposing, and when +he lost the trick he scanned his opponent's face, and seeing it +brighten, he knew the ruse had succeeded. But luck seemed to run +inexplicably against him, and he was defeated. In the return match he +met with similar luck, and rose from the table, having lost fifty +pounds. Mike wrote a second I O U for twenty-five pounds, to be paid +out of the hundred and fifty pounds which he had agreed in writing to +accept for the book before sitting down to play. Then he protested +vehemently against his luck, and so well did he act his part, that +even if Thigh had not drunk another glass of whiskey-and-water he +would not have perceived that Mike was simulating an excitement which +he did not feel. + +"I'll play you for a hundred pounds--the best out of seven games; +damn the cards! I can beat you no matter how they run!" + +"Very well, I don't mind, anything to oblige a friend." + +Lizzie besought Mike not to play again, and she nearly upset the +apple-cart by angrily telling Thigh she did not wish her house to be +turned into a gambling hell. Thigh rose from the table, but Frank +apologized for his wife, and begged of him to sit down. The incident +was not without a good effect, for it removed Thigh's suspicions, if +he had any, and convinced him that he was "in for a real good thing." +He laid on the table a cheque, signed Beacham Brown, for a hundred +pounds; Mike produced his nearly completed manuscript. Thigh looked +over the MS., judging its length. + +"It is all here?" + +"No, there's one chapter to come; that's good enough for you." + +"Oh yes, it will do. You'll have to finish it, for you'll want to +write for the paper." + +This time the cards were perfectly packed, and Mike turned the king. + +"Cards?" + +"No, play." + +Frank and Lizzie leaned breathless over the table, their faces white +in the light of the unshaded lamp. Mike won the whole five tricks. +But luck was dead against him, and in a few minutes the score stood +at three games all. Then outrageously, for there was no help for it, +as he never would have dared if his opponent had been quite sober, he +packed and bridged the cards. He turned the king. + +"Cards?" + +"No, play." + +Mike won the fourth game, and put Mr. Beacham Brown's cheque in his +pocket. + +"I'll play you again," said Thigh. + +Mike accepted, and before eleven o'clock Thigh had paid three hundred +pounds for the manuscript and lost all his available spare cash. He +glanced narrowly at Mike, paused as he put on his hat and coat, and +Frank wished Lizzie would leave the room, feeling sure that violent +words were inevitable. But at that moment Mike's shoulders and +knuckles seemed more than usually prominent, and Mr. Beacham Brown's +agent slunk away into the darkness. + +"You did turn the king pretty often," said Frank, when the door +closed. "I'm glad there was no row." + +"Row! I'd have broken his dirty neck. Not content with swindling poor +Beacham Brown, he tries it on with the contributors. I wish I had +been able to get him to go on. I would willingly have fleeced him of +every penny he has in the world." + +Lizzie bade them good-night, and the servant brought in a letter for +Mike, a letter which she explained had been incorrectly addressed, +and had just come from the hotel. Frank took up a newspaper which +Thigh had left on the table. He turned it over, glancing hastily +through it. Then something caught his eye, and the expression of his +face changed. And what caused him pain could be no more than a few +words, for the paper fell instantly from his hands and he sat quite +still, staring into space. But neither the sound of the paper +falling, nor yet the frozen rigidity of his attitude drew Mike's +thoughts from the letter he was reading. He glanced hastily through +it, then he read it attentively, lingering over every word. He seemed +to suck sweetness out of every one; it was the deep, sensual +absorption of a fly in a pot of treacle. His eyes were dim with +pleasure long drawn out; they saw nothing, and it was some moments +before the pallor and pain of Frank's face dispelled the melliferous +Edens in which Mike's soul moved. + +"What is the matter, old chap? Are you ill?" + +Frank did not answer. + +"Are you ill? Shall I get you a drink?" + +"No, no," he said. "I assure you it is nothing; no, it is nothing." +He struggled for a moment for shame's sake to keep his secret, but it +was more than he could bear. "Ah!" he said, "it is all over; I'm done +for--read." + +He stooped to pick up the paper. Mike took the paper from him and +read-- + +"Thursday--Lady Mount Rorke, of a son." + +Whilst one man hears his doom pronounced, another sees a golden +fortune fallen in his hand, and the letter Mike had just read was +from a firm of solicitors, informing him that Lady Seeley had left +him her entire fortune, three thousand a year in various securities, +and a property in Berkshire; house, pictures, plate--in a word, +everything she possessed. The bitterness of his friend's ill fortune +contrasting with the sweetness of his own good fortune, struck his +heart, and he said, with genuine sorrow in his voice-- + +"I'm awfully sorry, old chap." + +"There's no use being sorry for me, I'm done for; I shall never be +Lord Mount Rorke now. That child, that wife, are paupers; that +castle, that park, that river, all--everything that I was led to +believe would be mine one day, has passed from me irrevocably. It is +terribly cruel--it seems too cruel to be true; all those old +places--you know them--all has passed from me. I never believed Mount +Rorke would have an heir, he is nearly seventy; it is too cruel." + +Tears swam in his eyes, and covering his face in his hands he burst +into a storm of heavy sobbing. + +Mike was sincere, but "there is something not wholly disagreeable to +us in hearing of the misfortunes even of our best friends," and Mike +felt the old thought forced into his mind that he who had come from +the top had gone to the bottom, and that he who came from the bottom +was going--had gone to the top. Taking care, however, that none of +the triumph ebullient within him should rise into his voice, he +said-- + +"I am really sorry for you, Frank. You mustn't despair; perhaps the +child won't live, and perhaps the paper will succeed. It must +succeed. It shall succeed." + +"Succeed! nothing succeeds with me. I and my wife and child are +beggars on the face of the earth. It matters little to me whether the +paper succeeds or fails. Thigh has got pretty nearly all of it. When +my debts are paid I shall not have enough to set myself up in rooms." + +At the end of a painful silence, Mike said-- + +"We've had our quarrels, but you've been a damned good friend to me; +it is my turn now to stand to you. To begin with, here is the three +hundred that I won from Thigh. I don't want it. I assure you I don't. +Then there are your rooms in Temple Gardens; I'll take them off your +hands. I'll pay all the arrears of rent, and give you the price you +paid for your furniture." + +"What damned nonsense! how can you do that? Take three hundred pounds +from you--the price of your book. You have nothing else in the +world!" + +"Yes, I have; it is all right, old chap; you can have the money. The +fact is," he said, "Lady Seeley has left me her whole fortune; the +letter I just received is from the solicitors. They say three +thousand a year in various securities, and a property in Berkshire. +So you see I can afford to be generous. I shall feel much hurt if you +don't accept. Indeed, it is the least I can do; I owe it to you." + +The men looked at each other, their eyes luminous with intense and +quickening emotions. Fortune had been so derisive that Mike feared +Frank would break into foolish anger, and that only a quarrel and +worse hatred might result from his offer of assistance. + +"It was in my box you met her; I remember the night quite well. You +were with Harding." [Footnote: See _Spring Days_.] The men exchanged +an inquiring look. "She wanted me to go home and have supper with +her; she was in love with me then; I might have been her lover. But I +refused, and I went into the bar and spoke to Lizzie; when she went +off on duty I went and sat with you and Harding. Not long after I saw +you at Reading, in the hotel overlooking the river. I was with +Lizzie." [Footnote: See _Spring Days_.] + +"You can't accuse me of having cut you out. You could have got her, +and--" + +"I didn't want her; I was in love with Lizzie, and I am still. And +strange as it may appear to you, I regret nothing, at least nothing +that concerns Lizzie." + +Mike wondered if this were true. His fingers fidgeted with the +cheques. "Won't you take them?" + +Frank took them. It was impossible to continue the conversation. +Frank made a remark, and the young men bade each other good-night. + +As Mike went up the staircase to his room, his exultation swelled, +and in one of those hallucinations of the brain consequent upon +nerve excitement, and in which we are conscious of our insanity, he +wondered the trivial fabric of the cottage did not fall, and his soul +seemed to pierce the depth and mystery imprisoned in the stars. He +undressed slowly, looking at himself in the glass, pausing when he +drew off his waistcoat, unbuttoning his braces with deliberation. + +"I can make nothing of it; there never was any one like me.... I +could do anything, I might have been Napoleon or Cæsar." + +As he folded his coat he put his hand into the breast pocket and +produced the unposted letter. + +"That letter will drive me mad! Shall I burn it? What do I want with +a wife? I've plenty of money now." + +He held the letter to the flame of the candle. But he could not burn +it. + +"This is too damned idiotic!" he thought, as he laid it on the table +and prepared to get into bed; "I'm not going to carry that letter +about all my life. I must either post it or destroy it." + +Then the darkness became as if charged with a personality sweet and +intense; it seemed to emanate from the letter which lay on the table, +and to materialize strangely and inexplicably. It was the fragrance +of brown hair, and the light of youthful eyes; and in this perfume, +and this light, he realized her entire person; every delicate defect +of thinness. She hung over him in all her girlishness, and he clasped +her waist with his hands. + +"How sweet she is! There is none like her." + +Then wearying of the strained delight he remembered Belthorpe Park, +now his. Trees and gardens waved in his mind; downs and river lands +floated, and he half imagined Lily there smiling upon them; and when +he turned to the wall, resolute in his search for sleep, the perfume +he knew her by, the savour of the skin, where the first faint curls +begin, haunted in his hallucinations, and intruded beneath the +bed-clothes. One dream was so exquisite in its tenderness, so +illusive was the enchanted image that lay upon his brain, that +fearing to lose it, he strove to fix his dream with words, but no +word pictured her eyes, or the ineffable love they expressed, and yet +the sensation of both was for the moment quite real in his mind. They +were sitting in a little shady room; she was his wife, and she hung +over him, sitting on his knee. Her eyes were especially distinct and +beautiful, and her arms--those thin arms which he knew so well--and +that waist were clothed in a puritanic frock of some blue material. +His happiness thrilled him, and he lay staring into the darkness till +the darkness withered, and the lines of the room appeared--the +wardrobe, the wash-hand-stand, and then the letter. He rose from his +bed. In all-pervading grayness the world lay as if dead; not a whiff +of smoke ascended, not a bird had yet begun, and the river, like a +sheet of zinc, swirled between its low banks. + +"God! it is worse than the moonlight!" thought Mike, and went back to +bed. But he could not rest, and when he went again to the window +there was a faint flush in the sky's cheek; and then a bar of rose +pierced the heavy ridge of clouds that hung above the woodland. + +"An omen! I will post her letter in the sunrise." And conscious of +the folly, but unable to subdue that desire of romance so inveterate +in him, he considered how he might leave the house. He remembered, +and with pleasure, that he could not pass down the staircase without +disturbing the dog, and he thought of the prolonged barking that +would begin the moment he touched the chain on the front door. He +would have to get out of the window; but the window was twenty feet +from the ground. "A rope! I have no rope! How absurd!" he thought, +and, rejoicing in the absurdity, he drew a sheet from the bed and +made it fast. Going to Lily through a window seemed to relieve +marriage of some of its shame. + +"Life wouldn't be complete without her. Yes, that's just it; that +sums it up completely; curious I did not think of that before. It +would have saved such a lot. Yes, life would not be complete without +her. The problem is solved," and he dropped the letter as easily as +if it had been a note asking for seats in the theatre. "I'm married," +he said. "Good heavens! how strange it seems. I shall have to give +her a ring, and buy furniture. I had forgotten! ... No difficulty +about that now. We shall go to my place in Berkshire." + +But he could not go back to bed, and he walked down to the river, his +fine figure swinging beautifully distinct in his light clothing. The +dawn wind thrilled in his chest, for he had only a light coat over +the tasselled silk night-shirt; and the dew drenched his feet as he +swung along the pathway to the river. The old willow was full of +small birds; they sat ruffling their feathers, and when Mike sprang +into the boat they flew through the gray light, taking refuge in some +osier-beds. And as he looked down stream he saw the night clouds +dispersing in the wind. He pulled, making the boat shoot through the +water for about a mile, then touched by the beauty of the landscape, +paused to view it. Cattle lay in the long, moist meadows, harmonizing +in their semi-unconsciousness with the large gray earth; mist hung in +the sedges, floated evanescent upon the surface of the water, within +reach of his oars, floated and went out in the sunshine. But on the +verge of an oak wood, amid tangled and tawny masses of fern and +grass, a hound stopped and looked up. Then the huntsman appeared +galloping along the upland, and turning in his saddle, he blew a +joyful blast. + +Mike sat still, his heart close shut, the beauty of the scene in its +quick and core. Then yielding utterly he drove the boat ashore, and +calling to the nearest, to one who had stopped and was tightening his +horse's girths, he offered to buy his horse. A hundred pounds was +asked. "It is not worth it," he thought; "but I must spend my four +thousand a year." The desire to do what others think of doing but +don't do was always active in Mike. He gave his name and address; +and, fearing to miss dealing on such advantageous terms, the owner +consented to allow Mike to try the horse then and there. But the +hounds had got on the scent of a fox. The horn was heard ringing in +the seared wood in the crimson morning, and the hounds streamed +across the meadows. + +"I must try him over some fences. Take my boat and row up to Ash +Cottage; I'll meet you there." + +"I'll do nothing of the sort!" roared the man in top-boots. + +"Then walk across the fields," cried Mike; and he rode at the hedge +and rail, coming down heavily, but before the owner could reach him +he had mounted and was away. + +Some hours later, as he approached the cottage, he saw Frank and a +man in top-boots engaged in deep converse. + +"Get off my horse instantly!" exclaimed the latter. + +"The horse is mine," said Mike, who unfortunately could not control +his laughter. + +"Your horse! Certainly not! Get off my horse, or I'll pull you off." + +Mike jumped off. + +"Since you will have it so, I'll not dispute with you. There is your +horse; not a bad sort of animal--capital sport." + +"Now pay me my hundred pounds!" said the owner, between his clenched +teeth. + +"You said just now that you hadn't sold me the horse. There is your +horse, and here is the name of my solicitors, if you want to go to +law with me." + +"Law with you! I'll give you law!" and letting go the horse, that +immediately began to browse, he rushed at Mike, his whip in the air. + +Mike fought, his long legs wide apart, his long arms going like +lightning, straight from the shoulder, scattering blood over necktie +and collar; and presently the man withdrew, cursing Mike for an Irish +horse-stealer. + +"I never heard of such a thing!" said Frank. "You got on his horse +and rode away, leaving him standing on the outside of the cover." + +"Yes," shouted Mike, delighted with his exploit; "I felt I must go +after the hounds." + +"Yes, but to go away with the man's horse!" + +"My dear fellow, why not? Those are the things that other fellows +think of doing but don't do. An excitement like that is worth +anything." + +While waiting for Lily's answer, Mike finished the last chapter of +his book, and handed the manuscript to Frank. Between the sentences +he had speculated on the state of soul his letter would produce in +her, and had imagined various answers. "Darling, how good of you! I +did not know you loved me so well." She would write, "Your letter +surprised me, but then you always surprise me. I can promise you +nothing; but you may come and see me next Thursday." She would write +at once, of that there could be no doubt; such letters were always +answered at once. He watched the postman and the clock; every double +knock made tumult in his heart; and in his stimulated perceptions he +saw the well-remembered writing as if it lay under his eyes. And the +many communications he received during those days whetted the edge of +his thirst, and aggravated the fever that floated in his brain. + +And towards the end of the week, at the end of a long night of +suffering, he went to London. And for the first time, forgetful of +himself, without a thought of the light he would appear in, he told +the cabman where to drive. His heart failed him when he heard that +Miss Young had been ordered abroad by the doctor. And as he walked +away a morbid sense instilled in him that Lily would never be his +bride. Fear for her life persisted, and corrupted all his joy. He +could not listen to Lady Seeley's solicitors, and he could not +meditate upon the new life which Helen had given him. He had +inherited sixty thousand pounds in various securities, yielding three +thousand a year; the estate in Berkshire brought in fifteen hundred a +year; and a sum of twelve hundred pounds lay in the bank for +immediate uses. + +"Dear, sweet Helen--she was the best of the lot--none were as sweet +as she. Well, after all, it isn't so strange when one thinks of +it--she hadn't a relation in the world. I must see her grave. I'll +put a beautiful marble tomb over her; and when I'm in Berkshire I'll +go there every day with flowers." + +Then a shocking thought appeared in his mind. Accustomed to analyse +all sentiments, he asked his soul if he would give up all she had +given him to have her back in life; and he took courage and joy when +the answer came that he would. And delighted at finding himself +capable of such goodness, he walked in a happier mood. His mind hung +all day between these two women--while he paid the rent that was +owing there in Temple Gardens; while he valued the furniture and +fixtures. He valued them casually, and in a liberal spirit, and wrote +to Frank offering him seven hundred pounds for the place as it stood. +"It is not worth it," he thought, "but I'd like to put the poor +fellow on his legs." + +Where should he dine? He wanted distraction, and unable to think of +any better relief, he turned into Lubi's for a merry dinner. The +little gilt gallery was in disorder, Sally Slater having spent the +afternoon there. Her marquis was with her; her many admirers +clustered about the cigarette-strewn table, anxious to lose no word +of her strange conversation. One drunkard insisted on telling +anecdotes about the duke, and asking the marquis to drink with him. + +"I tell you I remember the circumstances perfectly--the duke wore a +gray overcoat," said drunkard No. 1. + +"Get out! I tell you to get out!" cried drunkard No. 2. "Brave +Battlemoor, I say; long live Battlemoor! Have a drink?--I want +Battlemoor to drink with me." + +"For God's sake have a drink with him," said Sally, "and then perhaps +he'll take another box for my benefit." + +"What, another?" + +"Only a guinea one this time; there's the ticket--fork out. And now I +must be off." + +The street echoed with the porter's whistle, half a dozen cabs came +racing for these excellent customers, and to the Trocadero they went. +The acting manager passed them in. Mike, Sally, Marquis, and the +drunkards lingered in the bar behind the auditorium, and +brandies-and-sodas were supplied to them over a sloppy mahogany +counter. A woman screamed on the stage in green silk, and between the +heads of those standing in the entrance to the stalls, her open mouth +and an arm in black swede were seen occasionally. + +Tired of drunkenness and slang Mike went into the stalls. The boxes +were bright with courtesans; the young men whispered invitations to +drink, and the chairman, puffing at a huge cigar, used his little +hammer and announced "Miss Sally Slater will appear next." Battlemoor +roared approval, and then in a short skirt and black stockings Sally +rushed to the footlights and took her audience, as it were, by the +throat. + + "Oh, you men, what would you do without us? + You kiss us, you cuddle and play, + You win our hearts away. + Oh, you men, there's something so nice about us." + +The "Oh, you men," was given with a shake of the fist and the waggle +of the bustle, in which there was genius, and Mike could not but +applaud. Suddenly he became aware that a pair of opera-glasses were +bracketed upon him, and looking up he saw Kitty Carew sitting with a +young nobleman, and he saw the white line of her teeth, for she was +laughing. She waved him to come to her. + +"You dear old sweet," she said, "where have you been all this +time?--Come, kiss me at once." And she bent her head towards him. + +"And now Newtimber, good-bye; I want to be with Mike. But you'll not +forget me, you'll come and see me one of these days?" And she spoke +so winningly that the boy hardly perceived that he was dismissed. +Mike and Kitty exchanged an inquiring look. + +"Ah! do you remember," she said, "when I was at the Avenue, and you +used to come behind? ... You remember the dear old marquis. When I was +ill he used to come and read to me. He used to say I was the only +friend he had. The dear marquis--and he is gone now. I went to his +grave yesterday, and I strewed the tomb with chrysanthemums, and +every spring he has the first lilac of my garden." + +"And who is your lover?" + +"I assure you I haven't got one. Harding was the last, but he is +becoming a bore; he philosophizes. I dare say he's very clever, but +people don't kiss each other because they are clever. I don't think I +ever was in love.... But tell me, how do you think I am looking? Does +this dress suit me? Do I look any older?" + +Mike vowed he had never seen her so charming. + +"Very well, if you think so, I'll tell you what we'll do. As soon as +Coburn has sung his song, we'll go; my brougham is waiting ... You'll +come home and have supper with me." + +A remembrance of Lily came over him, but in quick battle he crushed +it out of mind and murmured, "That will be very nice; you know I +always loved you better than any one." + +At that moment they were interrupted by cheers and yells. Muchross +had just entered at the head of his gang; his lieutenants, Snowdown +and Dicky the driver, stood beside him. They stood under the gallery +bowing to the courtesans in the boxes, and singing-- + + "Two lovely black eyes + Oh! what a surprise, + Two lovely black eyes." + +"I wish we could avoid those fellows," said Kitty; "they'll only +bother me with questions. Come, let's be off, they'll be up here in a +moment." But they were intercepted by Muchross and his friends in a +saloon where Sally and Battlemoor were drinking with various singers, +waiting their turns. + +"Where are you going? You aren't going off like that?" cried +Muchross, catching her by her sleeve. + +"Yes, I am; I am going home." + +"Let me see you home," whispered Dicky. + +"Thanks, Mike is seeing me home." + +"You are in love," cried Muchross; "I shan't leave you." + +"You are in drink; I'll leave you in charge if you don't loose my +sleeve." + +"This joker," cried Sally, "will take a ticket if something wins a +Lincoln, and he doesn't know which." She stood in the doorway, her +arms akimbo. "People are very busy here," she snarled, when a woman +tried to pass. + +"I beg your pardon," said the ex-chorus girl. + +"And a good thing too," said Sally. "You are one of the busy ones, +just got your salary for shoving, I suppose." There was no competing +with Sally's tongue, and the girl passed without replying. + +This queen of song was attired in a flowery gown of pale green, and +she wore a large hat lavishly trimmed with wild flowers; she moved +slowly, conscious of her importance and fame. + +But at that moment a man in a check suit said, doffing his cap, "Very +pleased to see you here, Miss Slater." + +Sally looked him over. "Well, I can't help that." + +"I was at your benefit. Mr. Jackson was there, and he introduced me +to you after the performance." + +"No, I'm sure he didn't." + +"I beg your pardon, Miss Slater. Don't you remember when Peggy Praed +got on the table and made a speech?" + +"No, I don't; you saw _me_ on the stage and you paid your money for +that. What more do you want?" + +"I assure you--" + +"Well, that's all right, now's your chance to lend me a fiver." + +"I'll lend you a fiver or a tenner, if you like, Miss Slater." + +"You could not do it if you tried, and now the roast pork's off." + +The witticism was received with a roar from her admirers, and +satisfied with her victory, she said--"And now, you girls, you come +and have drinks with me. What will you have, Kitty, what will you +have? give it a name." + +Kitty protested but was forced to sit down. The courtesans joined the +comic vocalists, waiting to do their "turns." Lord Muchross and Lord +Snowdown ordered magnums, and soon the hall was almost deserted. A +girl was, however, dancing prettily on the stage, and Mike stood to +watch her. Her hose were black, and in limp pink silk skirts she +kicked her slim legs surprisingly to and fro. After each dance she +ran into the wings, reappearing in a fresh costume, returning at +length in wide sailor's trousers of blue silk, her bosom partially +covered in white cambric. As the band played the first notes of the +hornpipe, she withdrew a few hair-pins, and forthwith an abundant +darkness fell to her dancing knees, almost to her tiny dancing feet, +heavy as a wave, shadowy as sleeping water. As some rich weed that +the warm sea holds and swings, as some fair cloud lingers in radiant +atmosphere, her hair floated, every parted tress an impalpable film +of gold in the crude sunlight of the ray turned upon her; and when +she danced towards the footlights, the bright softness of the threads +clung almost amorously about her white wrists--faint cobwebs hanging +from white flowers were not more faint, fair, and soft; wonderful was +the hair of this dancing girl, suggesting all fabled enchantments, +all visions of delicate perfume and all the poetry of evanescent +colour. + +She was followed by the joyous Peggy Praed (sweet minx), the soul and +voice of the small back streets. Screwing up her winsome, comical +face, drawling a word here, accentuating a word there, she evoked, in +an illusive moment, the washing day, the quarrel with the +mother-in-law (who wanted to sleep in the house), tea-time, and the +trip to the sea-side with all its concomitant adventures amid bugs +and landladies. With an accent, with a gesture, she recalled in a +moment a phase of life, creating pictures vivid as they were +transitory, but endowing each with the charm of the best and most +highly finished works of the Dutch masters. Lords, courtesans, and +fellow-artists crowded to listen, and profiting by the opportunity, +Kitty touched Mike on the shoulder with her fan. + +"Now we had better go." + +"I'm driving to-morrow. Come down to Brighton with us," said Dicky +the driver. "Shall I keep places for you?" + +Rising, Kitty laid her hand upon his mouth to silence him, and +whispered, "Yes; we'll come, and good-night." + +In the soft darkness of the brougham, gently swung together, the +passing gaslights revealing the blueness of the cushions, a diamond +stud flashing intermittently, they lay, their souls sunk deep in the +intimacy of a companionship akin to that of a nest--they, the +inheritors of the pleasure of the night and the gladness of the +morrow. + +Dressing was delirium, and Kitty had to adjure Mike to say no more; +if he did she should go mad. Breakfast had to be skipped, and it was +only by bribing a cabman to gallop to Westminster that they caught +the coach. Even so they would have missed it had not Mike sprung at +risk of limb from the hansom and sped on the toes of his patent +leather shoes down the street, his gray cover coat flying. + +"What a toff he is," thought Kitty, full of the pride of her love. +Bessie, whom dear Laura had successfully chaperoned into well-kept +estate, sat with Dicky on the box; Laura sat with Harding in the back +seat; Muchross and Snowdown sat opposite them. The middle of the +coach was taken up by what Muchross said were a couple of bar-girls +and their mashers. + +On rolled the coach over Westminster Bridge, through Lambeth, in +picturesqueness and power, a sympathetic survival of aristocratic +days. The aristocracy and power so vital in the coach was soon +communicated to those upon it. And now when Jem Gregory, the +celebrated whip, with one leg swinging over the side, tootled, the +passers-by seemed littler than ever, the hansoms at the corner seemed +smaller, and the folk standing at their poor doors seemed meaner. As +they passed through those hungry streets, ragged urchins came +alongside, throwing themselves over and over, beseeching coppers from +Muchross, and he threw a few, urging them to further prostrations. +Tootle, Jim, tootle; whether they starve or whether they feed, we +have no thought. The clatter of the hooves of the bays resounds +through those poor back-rooms, full of human misery; the notes of our +horn are perhaps sounding now in dying ears. Tootle, Jim, tootle; +what care we for that pale mother and her babe, or that toiling +coster whose barrow is too heavy for him! If there is to be +revolution, it will not be in our time; we are the end of the world. +Laura is with us to-day, Bessie sits on the box, Kitty is with our +Don Juan; we know there is gold in our pockets, we see our courtesans +by us, our gallant bays are bearing us away to pleasure. Tootle, Jim, +my boy, tootle; the great Muchross is shouting derision at the poor +perspiring coster. "Pull up, you devil, pull up," he cries, and +shouts to the ragged urchins and scatters halfpence that they may +tumble once more in the dirt. See the great Muchross, the +clean-shaven face of the libertine priest, the small sardonic eyes. +Hurrah for the great Muchross! Long may he live, the singer of "What +cheer, Ria?" the type and epitome of the life whose outward signs are +drags, brandies-and-soda, and pale neckties. + +Gaily trotted the four bays, and as Clapham was approached brick +tenements disappeared in Portland stone and iron railings. A girl was +seen swinging; the white flannels of tennis players passed to and +fro, and a lady stood by a tall vase watering red geraniums. Harding +told Mike that the shaven lawns and the greenhouses explained the +lives of the inhabitants, and represented their ideas; and Laura's +account of the money she had betted was followed by an anecdote +concerning a long ramble in a wood, with a man who had walked her +about all day without even so much as once asking her if she had a +mouth on her. + +"Talking of mouths," said Mike, as they pulled up to change horses, +"we had to start without breakfast. I wonder if one could get a +biscuit and a glass of milk." + +"Glass of milk!" screamed Muchross, "no milk allowed on this coach." + +"Well, I don't think I could drink a brandy-and-soda at this time in +the morning." + +"At what time could you drink one then? Why, it is nearly eleven +o'clock! What will you have, Kitty? A brandy?" + +"No, I think I'll take a glass of beer." + +The beauty of the landscape passed unperceived. But the road was full +of pleasing reminiscences. As they passed through Croydon dear old +Laura pointed out an hotel where she used to go every Sunday with the +dear Earl, and in the afternoons they played cribbage in the +sitting-room overlooking the street. And some miles further on the +sweetness of the past burst unanimously from all when Dicky pointed +out with his whip the house where Bessie had gone for her honeymoon, +and where they all used to spend from Saturday till Monday. The +incident of Bill Longside's death was pathetically alluded to. He had +died of D. T. "Impossible," said Laura, "to keep him from it. Milly, +poor little woman, had stuck to him almost to the last. He had had +his last drink there. Muchross and Dicky had carried him out." + +The day was filled with fair remembrances of summer, and the earth +was golden and red; and the sky was folded in lawny clouds, which the +breeze was lifting, revealing beautiful spaces of blue. All the +abundant hedgerows were red with the leaf of the wild cherry, and the +oak woods wore masses of sere and russet leafage. Spreading beeches +swept right down to the road, shining in beautiful death; once a +pheasant rose and flew through the polished trunks towards the yellow +underwood. Sprays trembled on naked rods, ferns and grasses fell +about the gurgling watercourses, a motley undergrowth; and in the +fields long teams were ploughing, the man labouring at the plough, +the boy with the horses; and their smock-frocks and galligaskins +recalled an ancient England which time has not touched, and which +lives in them. And the farm-houses of gables and weary brick, +sometimes well-dismantled and showing the heavy beam, accentuated +these visions of past days. Yes, indeed, the brick villages, the old +gray farm-houses, and the windmill were very beautiful in the endless +yellow draperies which this autumn country wore so romantically. One +spot lingered in Mike's memory, so representative did it seem of that +country. The road swept round a beech wood that clothed a knoll, +descending into the open country by a tall redding hedge to a sudden +river, and cows were seen drinking and wading in the shallows, and +this last impression of the earth's loveliness smote the poet's heart +to joy which was near to grief. + +At Three Bridges they had lunch, in an old-fashioned hotel called the +George. Muchross cut the sirloin, filling the plates so full of juicy +meat that the ladies protested. Snowdown paid for champagne, and in +conjunction with the wine, the indelicate stories which he narrated +made some small invasion upon the reserve of the bar-girls; for their +admirers did not dare forbid them the wine, and could not prevent +them from smiling. After lunch the gang was photographed in the +garden, and Muchross gave the village flautist half a "quid," making +him promise to drink their healths till he was "blind." + +"I never like to leave a place without having done some good," he +shouted, as he scrambled into his seat. + +This sentiment was applauded until the sensual torpor of digestion +intervened. The clamour of the coach lapsed into a hush of voices. +The women leaned back, drawing their rugs about their knees, for it +was turning chilly, arms were passed round yielding waists, hands lay +in digestive poses, and eyes were bathed in deep animal indolences. + +Conversation had almost ceased. The bar-girls had not whispered one +single word for more than an hour; Muchross had not shouted for at +least twenty minutes; the only interruption that had occurred was an +unexpected stopping of the coach, for the off-leader was pulling +Dicky so hard that he had to ask Jem to take the ribbons, and now he +snoozed in the great whip's place, seriously incommoding Snowdown +with his great weight. Suddenly awaking to a sense of his +responsibility Muchross roared-- + +"What about the milk-cans?" + +"You'd better be quick," answered Jem, "we shall be there in five +minutes." + +One of the customs of the road was a half-crown lottery, the winning +member to be decided by the number of milk-cans outside a certain +farm-house. + +"Ease off a bit, Jem," bawled Muchross. "Damn you! give us time to +get the numbers out." + +"It ain't my fault if you fall asleep." + +"The last stage was five miles this side of Cuckfield, you ought to +know the road by this time. How many are we?" + +"Eight," shouted Dicky, blowing the blatant horn. "You're on, Jem, +aren't you? Number two or three will get it; at this time of the year +milk is scarce. Pass on the hat quick; quick, you devil, pass it on. +What have you got, Kitty?" + +"Just like my luck," cried Muchross; "I've got eight." + +"And I've seven," said Snowdown; "never have I won yet. In the autumn +I get sevens and eights, in the summer ones and twos. Damn!" + +"I've got five," said Kitty, "and Mike has got two; always the lucky +one. A lady leaves him four thousand a year, and he comes down here +and rooks us." + +The coach swept up a gentle ascent, and Muchross shouted-- + +"Two milk-cans! Hand him over the quid and chuck him out!" + +The downs rose, barring the sky; and they passed along the dead level +of the weald, leaving Henfield on their right; and when a great piece +of Gothic masonry appeared between some trees, Mike told Kitty how it +had been once John Norton's intention to build a monastery. + +"He would have founded a monastery had he lived two centuries ago," +said Harding; "but this is an age of concessions, and instead he puts +up a few gargoyles. Time modifies but does not eradicate, and the +modern King Cophetua marries not the beggar, but the bar-maid." + +The conversation fell in silence, full of consternation; and all +wondered if the two ladies in front had understood, and they were +really bar-maids. Be this as it may, they maintained their +unalterable reserve; and with suppressed laughter, Mike persuaded +Dicky, who had resumed the ribbons, to turn into the lodge-gates. + +"Who is this Johnny?" shouted Muchross. "If he won't stand a drink, +we don't want none of his blooming architecture." + +"And I wouldn't touch a man with a large pole who didn't like women," +said Laura. At which emphatic but naïve expression of opinion, the +whole coach roared;--even the bar-girls smiled. + +"Architecture! It is a regular putty castle," said Kitty, as they +turned out of an avenue of elms and came in view of the house. + +Not a trace of the original Italian house remained. The loggia had +been replaced by a couple of Gothic towers. Over the central hall he +had placed a light lantern roof, and the billiard-room had been +converted into a chapel. A cold and corpse-like sky was flying; the +shadows falling filled the autumn path with sensations of deep +melancholy. But the painted legend of St. George overthrowing the +dragon, which John had placed in commemoration of his victories over +himself, in the central hall, glowed full of colour and story; and in +the melodious moan of the organ, and in the resonant chord which +closes the awful warning of the _Dies Iræ_, he realized the soul of +his friend. Castle, window, and friend were now one in his brain, and +seized with dim, undefinable weariness of his companions, and an +irritating longing to see John, Mike said-- + +"I must go and see him." + +"We can't wait here while you are paying visits; who doesn't like +getting drunk or singing, 'What cheer, Ria?' Let's give him a song." +Then the whole coach roared: even the bar-girls joined in. + + "What cheer, Ria? + Ria's on the job; + What cheer, Ria? + Speculate a bob." + +As soon as he could make himself heard, Mike said-- + +"You need not wait for me. We are only five minutes from Brighton. +I'll ride over in an hour's time. Do you wait for me at the Ship, +Kitty." + +"I don't think this at all nice of you." + +Mike waved his hand; and as he stood on the steps of this Gothic +mansion, listening to the chant, watching the revellers disappearing +in the gray and yellow gloom of the park, he said-- + +"The man here is the one who has seized what is best in life; he +alone has loved. I should have founded with him a new religious +order. I should walk with him at the head of the choir. Bah! life is +too pitifully short. I should like to taste of every pleasure--of +every emotion; and what have I tasted? Nothing. I have done nothing. +I have wheedled a few women who wanted to be wheedled, that is all." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +"And how are you, old chap? I am delighted to see you." + +"I'm equally glad to see you. You have made alterations in the place +... I came down from London with a lot of Johnnies and tarts--Kitty +Carew, Laura Stanley and her sister. I got Dicky the driver to turn +in here. You were playing the _Dies Iræ_. I never was more impressed +in my life. You should have seen the coach beneath the great window +... St. George overcoming the Johnnies ... the tumult of the organ ... +and I couldn't stand singing 'Two Lovely Black Eyes.' I sickened of +them--the whole thing--and I felt I must see you." + +"And are they outside?" + +"No; they have gone off." + +Relieved of fear of intrusion, John laughed loudly, and commented +humorously on the spectacle of the Brighton coach filled with +revellers drawn up beneath his window. Then, to discuss the +window--the quality of the glass--he turned out the lamps; the hall +filled with the legend, and their hearts full of it, and delighting +in the sensation of each other, they walked up and down the echoing +hall. John remembered a certain fugue by Bach, and motioning to the +page to blow, he seated himself at the key-board. The celestial +shield and crest still remained in little colour. Mike saw John's +hands moving over the key-board, and his soul went out in worship of +that soul, divided from the world's pleasure, self-sufficing, alone; +seeking God only in his home of organ fugue and legended pane. He +understood the nobleness and purity which was now about him--it +seemed impossible to him to return to Kitty. + +Swift and complete reaction had come upon him, and choked with the +moral sulphur of the last twenty-four hours, he craved the breath of +purity. He must talk of Plato's _Republic_, of Wagner's operas, of +Schopenhauer; even Lily was not now so imperative as these; and next +day, after lunch, when the question of his departure was alluded to, +Mike felt it was impossible to leave John; but persecuted with +scruples of disloyalty to Kitty, he resisted his friend's invitation +to stay. He urged he had no clothes. John offered to send the +coachman into Brighton for what he wanted. + +"But perhaps you have no money," John said, inadvertently, and a look +of apprehension passed into his face. + +"Oh, I have plenty of money--'tisn't that. I haven't told you that a +friend of mine, a lady, has left me nearly five thousand a year. I +don't think you ever saw her--Lady Seeley." + +John burst into uncontrollable laughter. "That is the best thing I +ever heard in all my life. I don't think I ever heard anything that +amused me more. The grotesqueness of the whole thing." Seeing that +Mike was annoyed he hastened to explain his mirth. "The +inexplicableness of human action always amuses me; the inexplicable +is romance, at least that is the only way I can understand romance. +When you reduce life to a logical sequence you destroy all poetry, +and, I think, all reality. We do things constantly, and no one can +say why we do them. Frederick the Great coming in, after reviewing +his troops, to play the flute, that to me is intensely romantic. A +lady, whom you probably treated exceedingly badly, leaving you her +property, that too is, to me." + +Admonished by his conscience, John's hilarity clouded into a sort of +semi-humorous gravity, and he advised Mike on the necessity of +reforming his life. + +"I am very sorry, for there is no one whose society is as attractive +to me as yours; there is no one in whom I find so many of my ideas, +and yet there is no one from whom I am so widely separated; at times +you are sublime, and then you turn round and roll in the nastiest +dirt you can find." + +Mike loved a lecture from John, and he exerted himself to talk. + +Looking at each other in admiration, they regretted the other's +weaknesses. Mike deplored John's conscience, which had forced him to +burn his poems; John deplored Mike's unsteady mind, which veered and +yielded to every passion. And in the hall they talked of the great +musician and the great king, or John played the beautiful hymns of +the Russian Church, in whose pathetic charm he declared Chopin had +found his inspiration; they spoke of the _Grail_ and the _Romance of +the Swan_, or, wandering into the library, they read aloud the +ever-flowering eloquence of De Quincey, the marmoreal loveliness of +Landor, the nurselike tenderness of Tennyson. + +Through all these æstheticisms Lily Young shone, her light waxing to +fulness day by day. Mike had written to Frank, beseeching him to +forward any letters that might arrive. He expected an answer from +Lily within the week, and not until its close did he begin to grow +fearful. Then rapidly his fear increased and unable to bear with so +much desire in the presence of John Norton, he rushed to London, and +thence to Marlow. He railed against his own weakness in going to +Marlow, for if a letter had arrived it would have been forwarded to +him. + +"Why deceive myself with false hopes? If the letter had miscarried it +would have been returned through the post-office. I wrote my address +plain enough." Then he railed against Lily. "The little vixen! She +will show that letter; she will pass it round; perhaps at this moment +she is laughing at me! What a fool I was to write it! However, all's +well that ends well, and I am not going to be married--I have escaped +after all." + +The train jogged like his thoughts, and the landscape fled in +fleeting visions like his dreams. He laid his face in his hands, and +could not disguise the truth that he desired her above all things, +for she was the sweetest he had seen. + +"There are," he said, talking to Frank and Lizzie, "two kinds of +love--the first is a strictly personal appetite, which merely seeks +its own assuagement; the second draws you out of yourself, and is far +more terrible. I have found both these loves, but in different +women." + +"Did no woman ever inspire both loves in you?" said Lizzie. + +"I thought one woman had." + +"Oh, tell us about her." + +Mike changed the conversation, and he talked of the newspaper until +it was time to go to the station. He was now certain that Lily had +rejected him. His grief soaked through him like a wet, dreary day. +Sometimes, indeed, he seemed to brighten, but there is often a deeper +sadness in a smile than in a flood of tears, and he was more than +ever sad when he thought of the life he had desired, and had lost; +which he had seen almost within his reach, and which had now +disappeared for ever. He had thought of this life as a green isle, +where there were flowers and a shrine. Isle, flowers, and shrine had +for ever vanished, and nothing remained but the round monotony of the +desert ocean. Then throwing off his grief with a laugh, he eagerly +anticipated the impressions of the visit he meditated to Belthorpe +Park, and his soul went out to meet this new adventure. He thought of +the embarrassment of the servants receiving their new master; of the +attitude of the country people towards him; and deciding that he had +better arrive before dinner, just as if he were a visitor, he sent a +telegram saying that the groom was to meet him at the station, and +that dinner was to be prepared. + +Lady Seeley's solicitors had told him that according to her +ladyship's will, Belthorpe was to be kept up exactly as it had been +in her life-time, and the servants had received notice, that in +pursuance of her ladyship's expressed wish, Mr. Fletcher would make +no changes, and that they were free to remain on if they thought +proper. Mike approved of this arrangement--it saved him from a task +of finding new servants, a task which he would have bungled sadly, +and which he would have had to attempt, for he had decided to enjoy +all the pleasures of a country place, and to act the country +gentleman until he wearied of the part. Life is but a farce, and the +more different parts you play in that farce the more you enjoy. Here +was a new farce--he the Bohemian, going down to an old ancestral home +to play the part of the Squire of the parish. It could not but prove +rich in amusing situations, and he was determined to play it. What a +sell it would be for Lily, for perhaps she had refused him because +she thought he was poor. Contemptuous thoughts about women rose in +his mind, but they died in thronging sensations of vanity--he, at +least, had not found women mercenary. Lily was the first! Then +putting thoughts of her utterly aside, he surrendered himself to the +happy consideration of his own good fortune. "A new farce! Yes; that +was the way to look upon it. I wonder what the servants will think! I +wonder what they'll think of me! ... Harrison, the butler, was with +her in Green Street. Her maid, Fairfield, was with her when I saw her +last--nearly three years ago. Fairfield knew I was her lover, and she +has told the others. But what does it matter? I don't care a damn +what they think. Besides, servants are far more jealous of our honour +than we are ourselves; they'll trump up some story about cousinship, +or that I had saved her ladyship's life--not a bad notion that last; +I had better stick to it myself." + +As he sought a plausible tale, his thoughts detached themselves, and +it struck him that the gentleman sitting opposite was his next-door +neighbour. He imagined his visit; the invitation to dine; the +inevitable daughters in the drawing-room. How would he be received by +the county folks? + +"That depends," he thought, "entirely on the number of unmarried +girls there are in the neighbourhood. The morals and manners of an +English county are determined by its female population. If the number +of females is large, manners are familiar, and morals are lax; if the +number is small, manners are reserved, and morals severe." + +He was in a carriage with two unmistakably county squires, and their +conversation--certain references to a meet of the hounds and a local +bazaar--left no doubt that they were his neighbours. Indeed, Lady +Seeley was once alluded to, and Mike was agitated with violent +desires to introduce himself as the owner of Belthorpe Park. Several +times he opened his lips, but their talk suddenly turned into matters +so foreign that he abandoned the notion of revealing his identity, +and five minutes after he congratulated himself he had not done so. + +The next station was Wantage Street; and as he looked to see that the +guard had put out his portmanteau, a smart footman approached, and +touching his cockaded hat said, "Mr. Fletcher." Mike thrilled with +pride. His servant--his first servant. + +"I've brought the dog-cart, sir; I thought it would be the quickest; +it will take us a good hour, the roads are very heavy, sir." + +Mike noticed the coronet worked in red upon the yellow horse-cloth, +for the lamps cast a bright glow over the mare's quarters; and +wishing to exhibit himself in all his new fortune before his +fellow-passengers, who were getting into a humbler conveyance, he +took the reins from the groom; and when he turned into the wrong +street, he cursed under his breath, fancying all had noticed his +misadventure. When they were clear of the town, touching the mare +with the whip he said-- + +"Not a bad animal, this." + +"Beautiful trotter, sir. Her ladyship bought her only last spring; +gave seventy guineas for her." + +After a slight pause, Mike said, "Very sad, her ladyship's death, and +quite unexpected, I suppose. She wasn't ill above a couple of days." + +"Not what you might call ill, sir; but her ladyship had been ailing +for a long time past. The doctors ordered her abroad last winter, +sir, but I don't think it did her much good. She came back looking +very poorly." + +"Now tell me which is the way? do I turn to the right or left?" + +"To the right, sir." + +"How far are we from Belthorpe Park now?" + +"About three miles, sir." + +"You were saying that her ladyship looked very poorly for some time +before she died. Tell me how she looked. What do you think was the +matter?" + +"Well, sir, her ladyship seemed very much depressed. I heard Miss +Fairfield, her ladyship's maid, say that she used to find her +ladyship constantly in tears; her nerves seemed to have given way." + +"I suppose I broke her heart," thought Mike; "but I'm not to blame; I +couldn't go on loving any woman for ever, not if she were Venus +herself." And questioning the groom regarding the servants then at +Belthorpe, he learnt with certain satisfaction that Fairfield had +left immediately after her ladyship's death. The groom had never +heard of Harrison (he had only been a year and a half in her +ladyship's service). + +"This is Belthorpe Park, sir--these are the lodge gates." + +Mike was disappointed in the lodge. The park he could not +distinguish. Mist hung like a white fleece. There were patches of +ferns; hawthorns loomed suddenly into sight; high trees raised their +bare branches to the brilliancy of the moon. + +"Not half bad," thought Mike, "quite a gentleman's place." + +"Rather rough land in parts--plenty of rabbits," he remarked to the +groom; and he won the man's sympathies by various questions +concerning the best method of getting hunters into condition. The +rooks talked gently in the branches of some elms, around which the +drive turned through rough undulating ground. Plantations became +numerous; tall, spire-like firs appeared, their shadows floating +through the interspaces; and, amid straight walks and dwarf yews, in +the fulness of the moonlight, there shone a white house, with large +French windows and a tower at the further end. A white peacock asleep +on a window-sill startled Mike, and he thought of the ghost of his +dead mistress. + +Nor could he account for his trepidation as he waited for the front +door to open, and Hunt seemed to him aggressively large and pompous, +and he would have preferred an assumption on the part of the servant +that he knew the relative positions of the library and drawing-room. +But Hunt was resolved on explanation, and as they went up-stairs he +pointed out the room where Lady Seeley died, and spoke of the late +Earl. "You want the sack and you shall get it, my friend," thought +Mike, and he glanced hurriedly at the beautiful pieces of furniture +about the branching staircase and the gallery leading into the +various corridors. At dinner he ate without noticing the choiceness +of the cooking, and he drank several glasses of champagne before he +remarked the excellence of the wine. + +"We have not many dozen left, sir; I heard that his lordship laid it +down in '75." + +Hunt watched him with cat-like patience and hound-like sagacity, and +seeing he had forgotten his cigar-case, he instantly produced a box. +Mike helped himself without daring to ask where the cigars came from, +nor did he comment on their fragrance. He smoked in discomfort; the +presence of the servant irritated him, and he walked into the library +and shut the door. The carved panelling, in the style of the late +Italian renaissance, was dark and shadowy, and the eyes of the +portraits looked upon the intruder. Men in armour, holding scrolls; +men in rich doublets, their hands on their swords; women in elaborate +dresses of a hundred tucks, and hooped out prodigiously. He was +especially struck by one, a lady in green, who played with long white +hands on a spinet. But the massive and numerous oak bookcases, +strictly wired with strong brass wire, and the tall oak fireplace, +surmounted with a portrait of a man in a red coat holding a letter, +whetted the edge of his depression, and Mike looked round with a pain +of loneliness upon his face. Speaking aloud for relief, he said-- + +"No doubt it is all very fine, everything is up to the mark, but +there's no denying that it is--well, it is dull. Had I known it was +going to be like this I'd have brought somebody down with me--a nice +woman. Kitty would be delightful here. But no; I would not bring her +here for ten times the money the place is worth; to do so would be an +insult on Helen's memory.... Poor dear Helen! I wish I had seen her +before she died; and to think that she has left me all--a beautiful +house, plate, horses, carriages, wine; nothing is wanting; everything +I have is hers, even this cigar." He threw the end of his cigar into +the fireplace. + +"How strange! what an extraordinary transformation! And all this is +mine, even her ancestors! How angry that old fellow looks at me--me, +the son of an Irish peasant! Yes, my father was that--well, not +exactly that, he was a grazier. But why fear the facts? he was a +peasant; and my mother was a French maid--well, a governess--well, a +nursery governess, _une bonne_; she was dismissed from her situation +for carrying on (it seems awful to speak of one's mother so; but it +is the fact).... Respect! I love my mother well enough, but I'm not +going to delude myself because I had a mother. Mother didn't like our +cabin by the roadside; father treated her badly; she ran away, taking +me with her. She was lucky enough to meet with a rich manufacturer, +who kept her fairly well--I believe he used to allow her a thousand +francs a month--and I used to call him uncle. When mother died he +sent me back to my father in Ireland. That's my history. There's not +much blue blood in me.... I believe if one went back.... Bah, if +one went back! Why deceive myself? I was born a peasant, and I know +it.... Yet no one looks more like a gentleman; reversion to some +original ancestor, I suppose. Not one of these earls looks more like +a gentleman than I. But I don't suppose my looks would in any measure +reconcile them to the fact of my possession of their property. + +"Ah, you old fools--periwigs, armour, and scrolls--you old fools, you +laboured only to make a gentleman of an Irish peasant. Yes, you +laboured in vain, my noble lords--you, old gentleman yonder, you with +the telescope--an admiral, no doubt--you sailed the seas in vain; and +you over there, you mediæval-looking cuss, you carried your armour +through the battles of Cressy and Poictiers in vain; and you, noble +lady in the high bodice, you whose fingers play with the flaxen curls +of that boy--he was the heir of this place two hundred years ago--I +say, you bore him in vain, your labour was in vain; and you, old +fogey that you are, you in the red coat, you holding the letter in +your gouty fingers, a commercial-looking letter, you laboured in +trade to rehabilitate the falling fortunes of the family, and I say +you too laboured in vain. Without labour, without ache, I possess the +result of all your centuries of labour. + +"There, that sordid, wizen old lady, a miser to judge by her +appearance, she is eyeing me maliciously now, but I say all her +eyeing is in vain; she pinched and scraped and starved herself for +me. Yes, I possess all your savings, and if you were fifty years +younger you would not begrudge them to me." + +Laughing at his folly, Mike said, "How close together lie the sane +and the insane; any one who had overheard me would have pronounced me +mad as a March hare, and yet few are saner." He walked twice across +the room. "But I'm mad for the moment, and I like to be mad. Have I +not all things--talent, wealth, love? I asked for life, and I was +given life. I have drunk the cup--no, not to the dregs, there is +plenty more wine in the cup for me; the cup is full, I have not +tasted it yet. Lily! yes, I must get her; a fool I have been; my +letter miscarried, else she would have written. Refuse me! who would +refuse me? Yes, I was born to drink the cup of life as few have drunk +it; I shall drink it even like a Roman emperor ... But they drank it +to madness and crime! Yet even so; I shall drink of life even to +crime. + +"The peasant and the card-sharper shall go high, this impetus shall +carry me very high; and Frank Escott, that mean cad, shall go to the +gutter; but he is already there, and I am here! I knew it would be +so; I felt my destiny, I felt it here--in my brain. I felt it even +when he scorned me in boyhood days. I believe that in those days he +expected me to touch my cap to him. But those days are over, new days +have begun. When to-morrow's sun rises it will shine on what is +mine--down-land, meadow-land, park-land, and wood-land. Strange is +the joy of possession; I did not know of its existence. The stately +house too is mine, and I would see it. But that infernal servant, I +suppose, is in bed. I would not have him find me. I shall get rid of +him. I can hear him saying in his pantry, 'He! I wouldn't give much +for him; I found him last night spying about, examining his fine +things, for all the world like a beggar to whom you had given an old +suit of clothes.'" + +Mike took his bed-room candle, and having regard for surprises on the +part of the servants, he roamed about the passages, looking at the +Chippendale furniture on the landings and the pictures and engravings +that lined the walls. Fearing bells, he did not attempt to enter any +of the rooms, and it was with some difficulty that he found his way +back to the library. Throwing himself into the arm-chair, he wondered +if he should grow accustomed to spend his evenings in this +loneliness. He thought of whom he should invite there--Harding, +Thompson, John Norton; certainly he would ask John. He couldn't ask +Frank without his wife, and Lizzie would prejudice him in the eyes of +the county people. Then, as his thoughts detached themselves, he +exclaimed against the sepulchral solemnity of the library. The house +was soundless. At the window he heard the soft moonlight-dreaming of +the rooks; and when he threw open the window the white peacock +roosting there flew away and paraded on the pale sward like a Watteau +lady. + +Next morning, rousing in the indolence of a bed hung with curtains of +Indian pattern, Mike said to the footman who brought in his hot +water-- + +"Tell the coachman that I shall go out riding after breakfast." + +"What horse will you ride, sir?" + +"I don't know what horses you have in the stable." + +"Well, sir, you can ride either her ladyship's hunter or the mare +that brought you from the station in the dog-cart." + +"Very well. I'll ride her ladyship's hunter. (My hunter, damn the +fellow," he said, under his breath.) "And tell the bailiff I shall +want him; let him come round on his horse. I shall go over the farms +with him." + +The morning was chilly. He stood before the fire while the butler +brought in eggs, kidneys, devilled legs of fowl, and coffee. The +beauty of the coffee-pot caught his eye, and he admired the plate +that made such rich effect on the old Chippendale sideboard. The +peacocks on the window-sills, knocking with their strong beaks for +bread, pleased him; they recalled evenings passed with Helen; she had +often spoken of her love for these birds. He went to the window with +bread for the peacocks, and the landscape came into his eyes: the +clump of leafless trees on the left, rugged and untidy with rooks' +nests; the hollow, dipping plain, melancholy of aspect now, misty, +gray and brown beneath a lowering sky, dipping and then rising in a +long, wide shape, and ringing the sky with a brown line. The terrace +with its straight walks, balustrades, urns, and closely-cropped yews +was a romantic note, severe, even harsh. + +One day, wandering from room to room, he found himself in Helen's +bedroom. "There is the bed she died in, there is the wardrobe." Mike +opened the wardrobe. He turned the dresses over, seeking for those he +knew; but he had not seen her for three years, and there were new +dresses, and he had forgotten the old. Suddenly he came upon one of +soft, blue material, and he remembered she wore that dress the first +time she sat on his knees. Feeling the need of an expressive action, +he buried his face in the pale blue dress, seeking in its softness +and odour commemoration of her who lay beneath the pavement. How +desolate was the room! He would not linger. This room must be forever +closed, left to the silence, the mildew, the dust, and the moth. None +must enter here but he, it must be sacred from other feet. Once a +year, on her anniversary, he would come to mourn her, and not on the +anniversary of her death, but on that of their first kiss. He had +forgotten the exact day, and feared he had not preserved all her +letters. Perhaps she had preserved his. + +Moved with such an idea he passed out of her bedroom, and calling for +_his_ keys, went into her boudoir and opened her escritoire, and very +soon he found his letters; almost the first he read, ran as follows-- + + +"MY DEAR HELEN, + +"I am much obliged to you for your kind invitation. I should like +very much to come and stay with you, if I may come as your friend. +You must not think from this that I have fallen in love with some one +else; I have not. I have never seen any one I shall love better than +you; I love you to-day as well as ever I did; my feelings regarding +you have changed in nothing, yet I cannot come as your lover. I am +ashamed of myself, I hate myself, but it is not my fault. + +"I have been your lover for more than a year, and I could not be any +one's lover--no, not if she were Venus herself--for a longer time. + +"My heart is full of regret. I am losing the best and sweetest +mistress ever man had. No one is able to appreciate your worth better +than I. Try to understand me; do not throw this letter aside in a +rage. You are a clever woman; you are, I know, capable of +understanding it. And if you will understand, you will not regret; +that I swear, for you will gain the best and most loyal friend. I am +as good a friend as I am a worthless lover. Try to understand, Helen, +I am not wholly to blame. + +"I love you--I esteem you far more to-day than I did when I first +knew you. Do not let our love end upon a miserable quarrel--the +commonplace quarrel of those who do not know how to love." + + +He turned the letter over. He was the letter; that letter was his +shameful human nature; and worse, it was the human nature of the +whole wide world. On the same point, or on some other point, every +human being was as base as he. Such baseness is the inalienable +birth-stain of human life. His poem was no pretty imagining, but the +eternal, implacable truth. It were better that human life should +cease. Until this moment he had only half understood its awful, its +terrifying truth.... It were better that man ceased to pollute the +earth. His history is but the record of crime; his existence is but a +disgraceful episode in the life of one of the meanest of the planets. + +We cannot desire what we possess, and so we progress from illusion to +illusion. But when we cease to distinguish between ourself and +others, when our thoughts are no longer set on the consideration of +our own embarrassed condition, when we see into the heart of things, +which is one, then disappointment and suffering cease to have any +meaning, and we attain that true serenity and peace which we +sometimes see reflected in a seraph's face by Raphael. + +As Mike's thoughts floated in the boundless atmosphere of +Schopenhauer's poem, of the denial of the will to live, he felt +creeping upon him, like sleep upon tired eyelids, all the sweet and +suasive fascination of death. "How little," he thought, "does any man +know of any other man's soul. Who among my friends would believe that +I, in all my intense joys and desire of life, am perhaps, at heart, +the saddest man, and perhaps sigh for death more ardently, and am +tempted to cull the dark fruit which hangs so temptingly over the +wall of the garden of life more ardently than any one?" + +A few days after, his neighbour, Lord Spennymoor, called, and his +visit was followed by an invitation to dinner. The invitation was +accepted. Mike was on his best behaviour. During dinner he displayed +as much reserve as his nature allowed him to, but afterwards, +yielding to the solicitations of the women, he abandoned himself, and +when twelve o'clock struck they were still gathered round him, +listening to him with rapt expression, as if in hearing of delightful +music. Awaking suddenly to a sense of the hour and his indiscretion, +he bade Lord Spennymoor, who had sat talking all night with his +brother in a far corner, good-night. + +When the sound of the wheels of his trap died away, when the ladies +had retired, Lord Spennymoor returned to the smoking-room, and at the +end of a long silence asked his brother, who sat smoking opposite +him, what he thought of Fletcher. + +"He is one of those men who attract women, who attract nine people +out of ten.... Call it magnetism, electro-biology, give it what name +you will. The natural sciences----" + +"Never mind the natural sciences. Do you think that either of my +girls were--Victoria, for instance, was attracted by him? I don't +believe for a moment his story of having saved Lady Seeley from +drowning in Italy, but I'm bound to say he told it very well. I can +see the girls sitting round him listening. Poor Mrs. Dickens, her +eyes were----" + +"I shan't ask her here again.... But tell me, do you think he'll +marry?" + +"It would be very hard to say what will become of him. He may +suddenly weary of women and become a woman-hater, or perhaps he may +develop into a sort of Baron Hulot. He spoke about his writings--he +may become ambitious, and spend his life writing epics.... He may go +mad! He seemed interested in politics, he may go into Parliament; I +fancy he would do very well in Parliament. A sudden loathing of +civilization may come upon him and send him to Africa or the Arctic +Regions. A man's end is always infinitely more in accordance with his +true character than any conclusion we could invent. No writer, even +if he have genius, is so extravagantly logical as nature." + +During the winter months Mike was extensively occupied with the +construction of the mausoleum in red granite, which he was raising in +memory of Helen; and this interest remained paramount. He took many +journeys to London on its account, and studied all the architecture +on the subject, and with great books on his knees, he sat in the +library making drawings or composing epitaphs and memorial poems. + +Belthorpe Park was often full of visitors, and when walking with them +on the terraces, his thoughts ran on Mount Rorke Castle, his own +success, and Frank's failure; and when he awoke in the sweet, +luxurious rooms, in the houses where he was staying, his brain filled +with febrile sensations of triumph, and fitful belief that he was +above any caprice of destiny. + +It pleased him to write letters with Belthorpe Park printed on the +top of the first page, and he wrote many for this reason. Quick with +affectionate remembrances, he thought of friends he had not thought +of for years, and the sadnesses of these separations touched him +deeply; and the mutability of things moved him in his very entrails, +and he thought that perhaps no one had felt these things as he felt +them. He remembered the women who had passed out of his life, and +looking out on his English park, soaking with rain and dim with mist, +he remembered those whom he had loved, and the peak whence he viewed +the desert district of his amours--Lily Young. She haunted in his +life. + +He saw himself a knight in the tourney, and her eyes fixed on him, +while he calmed his fiery dexter and tilted for her; he saw her in +the silk comfort of the brougham, by his side, their bodies rocked +gently together; he saw her in the South when reading Mrs. Byril's +descriptions of rocky coast and olive fields. + +The English park lay deep in snow, and the familiar word roses then +took magical significance, and the imagined Southern air was full of +Lily. + +"There's a sweet girl here, and I'm sure you would like her; she is +so slender, so blithe and winsome, and so wayward. She has been sent +abroad for her health, and is forbidden to go out after sunset, but +will not obey. I am afraid she is dying of consumption.... She has +taken a great fancy to me. There is no one in our hotel but a few old +maids, who discuss the peerage, and she runs after me to talk about +men. I fancy she must have carried on pretty well with some one, for +she loves talking about _him_, and is full of mysterious allusions." + +The romance of the sudden introduction of this girl into the +landscape took him by the throat. He saw himself walking with this +dying girl in the beauty of blue mountains toppling into blue skies, +and reflected in bluer seas; he sat with her beneath the palm-trees; +palms spread their fan-like leaves upon sky and sea, and in the rich +green of their leaves oranges grew to deep, and lemons to paler, +gold; and he dreamed that the knowledge that the object of his love +was transitory, would make his love perfect and pure. Now in his +solitude, with no object to break it, this desire for love in death +haunted in his mind. It rose unbidden, like a melody, stealing forth +and surprising him in unexpected moments. Often he asked himself why +he did not pack up his portmanteau and rush away; and he was only +deterred by the apparent senselessness of the thought. "What slaves +we are of habit! Why more stupid to go than to remain?" + +Soon after, he received another letter from Mrs. Byril. He glanced +through it eagerly for some mention of the girl. Whatever there was +of sweetness and goodness in Mike's nature was reflected in his eyes +(soft violet eyes, in which tenderness dwelt), whatever there was of +evil was written in the lips and chin (puckered lips and goat-like +chin), the long neck and tiny head accentuating the resemblance. + +Now his being was concentrated in the eyes as a landscape is +sometimes in a piece of sky. He read: "She told me that she had been +once to see her lover in the Temple." It was then Lily. He turned to +Mrs. Byril's first letter, and saw Lily in every line of the +description. Should he go to her? Of course ... When? At once! Should +it not prove to be Lily? ... He did not care ... He must go, and in +half an hour he touched the swiftly trotting mare with the whip and +glanced at his watch. "I shall just do it." The hedges passed behind, +and the wintry prospects were unfolded and folded away. But as he +approached the station, a rumble and then a rattle came out of the +valley, and though he lashed the mare into a gallop, he arrived only +in time to see a vanishing cloud of steam. + +The next train did not reach London till long after the mail had left +Charing Cross. + +It froze hard during the night, and next morning his feet chilled in +his thin shoes, as he walked to and fro, seeking a carriage holding a +conversational-looking person. At Dover the wind was hard as the +ice-bound steps which he descended, and the sea rolled in dolefully +about the tall cliffs, melting far away into the bleak grayness of +the sky. But more doleful than the bleak sea was sullen Picardy. Mike +could not sleep, and his eyes fed upon the bleak black of swampy +plains, utterly mournful, strangely different from green and gladsome +England. And two margins of this doleful land remained impressed upon +his mind; the first, a low grange, discoloured, crouching on the +plain, and curtained by seven lamentable poplars, and Mike thought of +the human beings that came from it, to see only a void landscape, and +to labour in bleak fields. He remembered also a marsh with osier-beds +and pools of water; and in the largest of these there was a black and +broken boat. Thin sterile hills stretched their starved forms in the +distance, and in the raw wintry light this landscape seemed like a +page of the primitive world, and the strange creature striving with +an oar recalled our ancestors. + +Paris was steeped in great darkness and starlight, and the cab made +slow and painful way through the frost-bound streets. The amble and +the sliding of the horse was exasperating, the drive unendurable with +uncertainty and cold, and Mike hammered his frozen feet on the +curving floor of the vehicle. Street succeeded street, all growing +meaner as they neared the Gare de Lyons. Fearing he should miss the +express he called to the impassive driver to hasten the vehicle. +Three minutes remained to take his ticket and choose a carriage, and +hoping for sleep and dreams of Lily, he rolled himself up in a rug +for which he had paid sixty guineas, and fell asleep. + +Ten hours after, he was roused by the guard, and stretching his +stiffened limbs, he looked out, and in the vague morning saw towzled +and dilapidated travellers, slipping upon the thin ice that covered +the platform, striving to reach long, rough tables, spread with +coffee, fruit, and wine. Mike drank some coffee, and thinking of Mrs. +Byril's roses, wondered when they should get into the sunshine. + +As the train moved out of the platform the twilight vanished into +daylight, the sky flushed, and he saw a scant land, ragged and torn +with twisted plants, cacti and others, gashed and red, and savage as +a negress's lips. So he saw the South through the breath-misted +windows. He lay back; he dozed a little, and awoke an hour after to +feel soft air upon the face, and to see a bush laden with blossom +literally singing the spring. Thenceforth at every mile the land grew +into more frequent bloom. The gray-green olive-tree appeared, a +crooked, twisted tree--habitual phase of the red land--and between +its foliage gray-green brick façades, burnt and re-burnt by the sun. +The roofs of the houses grew flatter and campanile, and the domes +rose, silvery or blue, in the dazzling day. A mountain shepherd, +furnished with water-gourd, a seven-foot staff, and a gigantic pipe, +lingered in the country railway-station. This shepherd's skin was +like coffee, and he wore hair hanging far over his shoulders, and his +beard reached to his waist. + +Nice! A town of cheap fashion, a town of glass and stucco. The +pungent odour of the eucalyptus trees, the light breeze stirred not +the foliage, sheared into mathematical lines. It was like yards of +baize dwindling in perspective; and between the tall trunks great +plate-glass windows gleamed, filled with _l'article de Londres_. + +He drove to the hotel from which Mrs. Byril had written, and learnt +that she had left yesterday, and that Mrs. and Miss Young were not +staying there. They had no such name on the books. Looking on the sea +and mountains he wondered himself what it all meant. + +Having bathed and changed his clothes, he sallied forth in a cab to +call at every hotel in the town, and after three hours' fruitless +search, returned in despair. Never before had life seemed so sad; +never had fate seemed so cruel--he had come a thousand miles to +regenerate his life, and an accident, the accident of a departure, +hastened perhaps only by a day, had thrown him back on the past; he +had imagined a beautiful future made of love, goodness, and truth, +and he found himself thrown back upon the sterile shore of a past of +which he was weary, and of whose fruits he had eaten even to satiety. +After much effort he had made sure that nothing mattered but Lily, +neither wealth nor liberty, nor even his genius. In surrendering all +he would have gained all--peace of mind, unending love and goodness. +Goodness! that which he had never known, that which he now knew was +worth more than gratification of flesh and pride of spirit. + +The night was full of tumult and dreams--dreams of palms, and seas, +and endless love, and in the morning he walked into the realities of +his imaginings. + +Passing through an archway, he found himself in the gaud of the +flower-market. There a hundred umbrellas, yellow, red, mauve and +magenta, lemon yellow, cadmium yellow, gold, a multi-coloured mass +spread their extended bellies to a sky blue as the blouses. + +The brown fingers of the peasant women are tying and pressing all the +miraculous bloom of the earth into the fair fingers of Saxon +girls--great packages of roses, pink lilies, clematis, stephanotis, +and honeysuckle. A gentle breeze is blowing, rocking the umbrellas, +wafting the odour of the roses and honeysuckle, bringing hither an +odour of the lapping tide, rocking the immense umbrellas. One huge +and ungainly sunshade creaks, swaying its preposterous rotundity. +Beneath it the brown woman slices her pumpkin. Mike scanned every +thin face for Lily, and as he stood wedged against a flower-stand, a +girl passed him. She turned. It was Lily. + +"Lily, is it possible? I was looking for you everywhere." + +"Looking for me! When did you arrive in Nice? How did you know I was +here?" + +"Mrs. Byril wrote. She described a girl, and I knew from her +description it must be you. And I came on at once." + +"You came on at once to find me?" + +"Yes; I love you more than ever. I can think only of you.... But when +I arrived I found Mrs. Byril had left, and I had no means of finding +your address." + +"You foolish boy; you mean to say you rushed away on the chance that +I was the girl described in Mrs. Byril's letter! ... A thousand miles! +and never even waited to ask the name or the address! Well, I suppose +I must believe that you are in love. But you have not heard.... They +say I'm dying. I have only one lung left. Do you think I'm looking +very ill?" + +"You are looking more lovely than ever. My love shall give you +health; we shall go--where shall we go? To Italy? You are my Italy. +But I'm forgetting--why did you not answer my letter? It was cruel of +you. Deceive me no more, play with me no longer; if you will not have +me, say so, and I will end myself, for I cannot live without you." + +"But I do not understand, I haven't had any letter; what letter?" + +"I wrote asking you to marry me." + +They walked out of the flower market on to the _Promenade des +Anglais_, and Mike told her about his letters, concealing nothing of +his struggle. The sea lay quite blue and still, lapping gently on the +spare beach; the horizon floated on the sea, almost submerged, and +the mountains, every edge razor-like, hard, and metallic, were veiled +in a deep, transparent blue; and the villas, painted white, pink and +green, with open loggias and balconies, completed the operatic +aspect. + +"My mother will not hear of it; she would sooner see me dead than +married to you." + +"Why?" + +"She knows you are an atheist for one thing." + +"But she does not know that I have six thousand a year." + +"Six thousand a year! and who was the fairy that threw such fortune +into your lap? I thought you had nothing." + +Vanity took him by the throat, but he wrenched himself free, and +answered evasively that a distant cousin had left him a large sum of +money, including an estate in Berkshire. + +"Well, I'm very glad for your sake, but it will not influence +mother's opinion of you." + +"Then you will run away with me? Say you will." + +"That is the best--for I'm not strong enough to dispute with mother. +I dare say it is very cowardly of me, but I would avoid scenes; I've +had enough of them.... We'll go away together. Where shall we go? To +Italy?" + +"Yes, to Italy--my Italy. And do you love me? Have you forgiven me my +conduct the day when you came to see me?" + +"Yes, I love you; I have forgiven you." + +"And when shall we go?" + +"When you like. I should like to go over that sea; I should like to +go, Mike, with you, far away! Where, Mike?--Heaven?" + +"We should find heaven dull; but when shall we go across that sea, or +when shall we go from here--now?" + +"Now!" + +"Why not?" + +"Because here are my people coming to meet me. Now say nothing to my +mother about marriage, or she will never leave my side. I'm more ill +than you think I am--I should have no strength to struggle with her." + +Not again that day did Mike succeed in speaking alone with Lily, and +the next day she and her mother and Major Downside, her uncle, went +to spend the day with some friends who had a villa in the environs of +the town. The day after he met mother and daughter out walking in the +morning. In the afternoon Lily was obliged to keep her room. Should +she die! should the irreparable happen! Mike crushed the instinct, +that made him see a poem in the death of his beloved; and he +determined to believe that he should possess her, love her and only +her; he saw himself a new Mike, a perfect and true husband-lover. +Never was man more weary of vice, more desirous of reformation. + +He had studied the train service until he could not pretend to +himself there remained any crumb of excuse for further consideration +of it. He wandered about the corridors, a miserable man. On Sunday +she came down-stairs and drove to church with her mother. Mike +followed, and full of schemes for flight, holding a note ready to +slip into her hand, he wondered if such pallor as hers were for this +side of life. In the note it was written that he would wait all day +for her in the sitting-room, and about five, as he sat holding the +tattered newspaper, his thoughts far away in Naples, Algiers, and +Egypt, he heard a voice calling-- + +"Mike! Mike! Mother is lying down; I think we can get away now, if +there's a train before half-past five." + +Mike did not need to consult the time-table. He said, "At last, +at last, darling, come! ... Yes, there is a train for the Italian +frontier at a few minutes past five. We shall have just time to +catch it. Come!" + +But in the gardens they met the Major, who would not hear of his +niece being out after sunset, and sent her back. Mike overtook Lily +on the staircase. + +"I can endure this no longer," he said; "you must come with me +to-night when every one is in bed. There is a train at two." + +"I cannot; I have to pass through my mother's room. She would be sure +to awake." + +"Great Scott! what shall we do? My head is whirling. You must give +your mother a sleeping potion, will you? She drinks something before +she goes to bed?" + +"Yes, but----" + +"There must be no buts. It is a case of life and death. You do not +want to die, as many girls die. To many a girl marriage is life. I +will get something quite harmless, and quite tasteless." + +She waited for him in the sitting-room. He returned in a few minutes +with a small bottle, which he pressed into her hand. "And now, _au +revoir_; in a few hours you will be mine for ever." + +After leaving her he dined; after dinner went to a gambling hell, +where he lost a good deal of money, and would have lost more, had the +necessity of keeping at least £200 for his wedding-tour not been so +imperative. He wandered about the streets talking to and sometimes +strolling about with the light women, listening to their lamentable +stories--"anything," he thought, "to distract my mind." He was to +meet Lily on the staircase at one o'clock, and now it was half-past +twelve, and giving the poor creature whose chatter had beguiled the +last half-hour a louis, he returned hurriedly to his hotel. + +The lift had ceased working, and he ascended the great staircase, +three steps at a time. On the second floor he stopped to reconnoitre. +The _gardien_ lay fast asleep on a bench; he could not do better than +sit on the stairs and wait; if the man awoke he would have to be +bribed. Lily's number was 45, a dozen doors down the passage. At one +o'clock the _gardien_ awoke. Mike entered into conversation with him, +gave him a couple of francs, bade him good-night, and went partly up +the next flight of stairs. Listening for every sound, expecting every +moment to hear a door open, he waited till the clocks struck the +half-hour. Then he became as if insane, and he deemed it would not be +enough if she were to disappoint him to set the hotel on fire and +throw himself from the roof. Something must happen, if he were to +remain sane, and, determined to dare all, he decided he would seek +her in her room and bear her away. He knew he would have to pass +through Mrs. Young's room. What should he do if she awoke, and, +taking him for a robber, raised the alarm? + +Putting aside such surmises he turned the handle of her door as +quietly as he could. The lock gave forth hardly any sound, the door +passed noiselessly over the carpet. He hesitated, but only for a +moment, and drawing off his shoes he prepared to cross the room. A +night-light was burning, and it revealed the fat outline of a huge +body huddled in the bed-clothes. He would have to pass close to Mrs. +Young. He glided by, passing swiftly towards the further room, +praying that the door would open without a sound. It was ajar, and +opened without a sound. "What luck!" he thought, and a moment after +he stood in Lily's room. She lay upon the bed, as if she had fallen +there, dressed in a long travelling-cloak, her hat crushed on one +side. + +"Lily, Lily!" he whispered, "'tis I; awake! speak, tell me you are +not dead." She moved a little beneath his touch, then wetting a towel +in the water-jug he applied it to her forehead and lips, and slowly +she revived. + +"Where are we?" she asked. "Mike, darling, are we in Italy? ... I have +been ill, have I not? They say I'm going to die, but I'm not; I'm +going to live for you, my darling." + +Then she recovered recollection of what had happened, and whispered +that she had failed to give her mother the opiate, but had +nevertheless determined to keep her promise to him. She had dressed +herself and was just ready to go, but a sudden weakness had come over +her. She remembered staggering a few steps and nothing more. + +"But if you have not given your mother the opiate, she may awake at +any moment. Are you strong enough, my darling, to come with me? +Come!" + +"Yes, yes, I'm strong enough. Give me some more water, and kiss me, +dear." + +The lovers wrapped themselves in each other's arms. But hearing some +one moving in the adjoining room, the girl looked in horror and +supplication in Mike's eyes. Stooping, he disappeared beneath a small +table; and drew his legs beneath the cloth. The sounds in the next +room continued, and he recognized them as proceeding from some one +searching for clothes. Then Lily's door was opened and Mrs. Young +said-- + +"Lily, there is some one in your room; I'm sure Mr. Fletcher is +here." + +"Oh, mother, how can you say such a thing! indeed he is not." + +"He is; I am not mistaken. This is disgraceful; he must be under that +bed." + +"Mother, you can look." + +"I shall do nothing of the kind. I shall fetch your uncle." + +When he heard Mrs. Young retreating with fast steps, Mike emerged +from his hiding. + +"What shall I do?" + +"You can't leave without being seen. Uncle sleeps opposite." + +"I'll hide in your mother's room; and while they are looking for me +here, I will slip out." + +"How clever you are, darling! Go there. Do you hear? uncle is +answering her. To-morrow we shall find an opportunity to get away; +but now I would not be found out.... I told mother you weren't here. +Go!" + +The morrow brought no opportunity for flight. Lily could not leave +her room, and it was whispered that the doctors despaired of her +life. Then Mike opened his heart to the Major, and the old soldier +promised him his cordial support when Lily was well. Three days +passed, and then, unable to bear the strain any longer, Mike fled to +Monte Carlo. There he lost and won a fortune. Hence Italy enticed +him, and he went, knowing that he should never go there with Lily. + +But not in art nor in dissipation did he find escape from her +deciduous beauty, now divided from the grave only by a breath, +beautiful and divinely sorrowful in its transit. + +Some days passed, and then a letter from the Major brought him back +over-worn with anxiety, wild with grief. He found her better. She had +been carried down from her room, and was lying on a sofa by the open +window. There were a few flowers in her hands, and when she offered +them to Mike she said with a kind of Heine-like humour-- + +"Take them, they will live almost as long as I shall." + +"Lily, you will get well, and we shall see Italy together. I had to +leave you--I should have gone mad had I remained. The moment I heard +I could see you I returned. You will get well." + +"No, no; I'm here only for a few days--a few weeks at most. I shall +never go to Italy. I shall never be your sweetheart. I'm one of God's +virgins. I belong to my saint, my first and real sweetheart. You +remember when I came to see you in the Temple Gardens, I told you +about Him then, didn't I! Ah! happy, happy aspirations, better even +than you, my darling. And He is waiting for me; I see Him now. He +smiles, and opens His arms." + +"You'll get well. The sun of Italy shall be our heaven, thy lips +shall give me immortality, thy love shall give me God." + +"Fine words, my sweetheart, fine words, but death waits not for +love.... Well, it's a pity to die without having loved." + +"It is worse to live without having loved, dearest--dearest, you +will live." + +He never saw her again. Next day she was too ill to come down, and +henceforth she grew daily weaker. Every day brought death visibly +nearer, and one day the Major came to Mike in the garden and said-- + +"It is all over, my poor friend!" + +Then came days of white flowers and wreaths, and bouquets and baskets +of bloom, stephanotis, roses, lilies, and every white blossom that +blows; and so friends sought to cover and hide the darkness of the +grave. Mike remembered the disordered faces of the girls in church; +weeping, they threw themselves on each other's shoulders; and the +mournful chant was sung; and the procession toiled up the long hill +to the cemetery above the town, and Lily was laid there, to rest +there for ever. There she lies, facing Italy, which she never knew +but in dream. The wide country leading to Italy lies below her, the +peaks of the rocky coast, the blue sea, the gray-green olives +billowing like tides from hill to hill; the white loggias gleaming in +the sunlight. His thoughts followed the flight of the blue mountain +passes that lead so enticingly to Italy, and as he looked into the +distance, dim and faint as the dream that had gone, there rose in his +mind an even fairer land than Italy, the land of dream, where for +every one, even for Mike Fletcher, there grows some rose or lily +unattainable. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +In the dreary drawing-room, amid the tattered copies of the _Graphic_ +and _Illustrated London News_, he encountered the inevitable idle +woman. They engaged in conversation; and he repeated the phrases that +belong inevitably to such occasions. + +"How horrible all this is," he said to himself; "this is worse than +peeping and botanizing on a mother's grave." + +He desired supreme grief, and grief fled from his lure; and rhymes +and images thronged his brain; and the poem that oftenest rose in his +mind, seemingly complete in cadence and idea, was so cruel, that +Lily, looking out of heaven, seemed to beg him to refrain. But though +he erased the lines on the paper, he could not erase them on his +brain, and baffled, he pondered over the phenomena of the antagonism +of desired aspirations and intellectual instincts. He desired a poem +full of the divine grace of grief; a poem beautiful, tender and pure, +fresh and wild as a dove crossing in the dawn from wood to wood. He +desired the picturesqueness of a young man's grief for a dead girl, +an Adonais going forth into the glittering morning, and weeping for +his love that has passed out of the sun into the shadow. This is what +he wrote: + + + A UNE POETRENAIRE. + + We are alone! listen, a little while, + And hear the reason why your weary smile + And lute-toned speaking is so very sweet + To me, and how my love is more complete + Than any love of any lover. They + Have only been attracted by the gray + Delicious softness of your eyes, your slim + And delicate form, or some such whimpering whim, + The simple pretexts of all lovers;--I + For other reasons. Listen whilst I try + And say. I joy to see the sunset slope + Beyond the weak hours' hopeless horoscope, + Leaving the heavens a melancholy calm, + Of quiet colour chaunted like a psalm, + In mildly modulated phrases; thus + Your life shall fade like a voluptuous + Vision beyond the sight, and you shall die + Like some soft evening's sad serenity ... + I would possess your dying hours; indeed + My love is worthy of the gift, I plead + For them. + + Although I never loved as yet, + Methinks that I might love you; I would get + From out the knowledge that the time was brief, + That tenderness whose pity grows to grief, + My dream of love, and yea, it would have charms + Beyond all other passions, for the arms + Of death are stretchéd you-ward, and he claims + You as his bride. Maybe my soul misnames + Its passion; love perhaps it is not, yet + To see you fading like a violet, + Or some sweet thought away, would be a strange + And costly pleasure, far beyond the range + Of common man's emotion. Listen, I + Will choose a country spot where fields of rye + And wheat extend in waving yellow plains, + Broken with wooded hills and leafy lanes, + To pass our honeymoon; a cottage where + The porch and windows are festooned with fair + Green wreaths of eglantine, and look upon + A shady garden where we'll walk alone + In the autumn sunny evenings; each will see + Our walks grow shorter, till at length to thee + The garden's length is far, and thou wilt rest + From time to time, leaning upon my breast + Thy languid lily face. Then later still, + Unto the sofa by the window-sill + Thy wasted body I shall carry, so + That thou mays't drink the last left lingering glow + Of even, when the air is filled with scent + Of blossoms; and my spirits shall be rent + The while with many griefs. Like some blue day + That grows more lovely as it fades away, + Gaining that calm serenity and height + Of colour wanted, as the solemn night + Steals forward thou shalt sweetly fall asleep + For ever and for ever; I shall weep + A day and night large tears upon thy face, + Laying thee then beneath a rose-red place + Where I may muse and dedicate and dream + Volumes of poesy of thee; and deem + It happiness to know that thou art far + From any base desires as that fair star + Set in the evening magnitude of heaven. + Death takes but little, yea, thy death has given + Me that deep peace and immaculate possession + Which man may never find in earthly passion. + + +The composition of the poem induced a period of literary passion, +during which he composed much various matter, even part of his great +poem, which he would have completed had he not been struck by an idea +for a novel, and so imperiously, that he wrote the book straight from +end to end. It was sent to a London publisher, and it raised some +tumult of criticism, none of which reached the author. When it +appeared he was far away, living in Arab tents, seeking pleasure at +other sources. For suddenly, when the strain of the composition of +his book was relaxed, civilization had grown hateful to him; a +picture by Fromantin, and that painter's book, _Un été dans le +Sahara_, quickened the desire of primitive life; he sped away, and +for nearly two years lived on the last verge of civilization, +sometimes passing beyond it with the Bedouins into the interior, on +slave-trading or rapacious expeditions. The frequentation of these +simple people calmed the fever of ennui, which had been consuming +him. Nature leads us to the remedy that the development of reason +inflicts on the animal--man. And for more than a year Mike thought he +had solved the problem of life; now he lived in peace--passion had +ebbed almost out of hearing, and in the plain satisfaction of his +instincts he found happiness. + +With the wild chieftains, their lances at rest, watching from behind +a sandhill, he sometimes thought that the joy he experienced was akin +to that which he had known in Sussex, when his days were spent in +hunting and shooting; now, as then, he found relief by surrendering +himself to the hygienics of the air and earth. But his second return +to animal nature had been more violent and radical; and it pleased +him to think that he could desire nothing but the Arabs with whom he +lived, and whose friendship he had won. But _qui a bu boira_, and +below consciousness dead appetites were awakening, and would soon be +astir. + +The tribe had wandered to an encampment in the vicinity of Morocco; +and one day a missionary and his wife came with a harmonium and +tracts. The scene was so evocative of the civilization from which +Mike had fled, that he at once was drawn by a power he could not +explain towards them. He told the woman that he had adopted Arab +life; explaining that the barbaric soul of some ancestor lived in +him, and that he was happy with these primitive people. He too was a +missionary, and had come to warn and to save them from Christianity +and all its corollaries--silk hats, piano playing, newspapers, and +patent medicines. The English woman argued with him plaintively; the +husband pressed a bundle of tracts upon him; and this very English +couple hoped he would come and see them when he returned to town. +Mike thanked them, insisting, however, that he would never leave his +beloved desert, or desert his friends. Next day, however, he forgot +to fall on his knees at noon, and outside the encampment stood +looking in the direction whither the missionaries had gone. A strange +sadness seemed to have fallen upon him; he cared no more for plans +for slave-trading in the interior, or plunder in the desert. The +scent of the white woman's skin and hair was in his nostrils; the +nostalgia of the pavement had found him, and he knew he must leave +the desert. One morning he was missed in the Sahara, and a fortnight +after he was seen in the Strand, rushing towards Lubini's. + +"My dear fellow," he said, catching hold of a friend's arm, "I've +been living with the Arabs for the last two years. Fancy, not to have +seen a 'tart' or drunk a bottle of champagne for two years! Come and +dine with me. We'll go on afterwards to the Troc'." + +Mike looked round as if to assure himself that he was back again +dining at Lubi's. It was the same little white-painted gallery, +filled with courtesans, music-hall singers, drunken lords, and +sarcastic journalists. He noticed, however, that he hardly knew a +single face, and was unacquainted with the amours of any of the +women. He inquired for his friends. Muchross was not expected to +live, Laura was underground, and her sister was in America. Joining +in the general hilarity, he learnt that as the singer declined the +prize-fighter was going up in popular estimation. A young and drunken +lord offered to introduce him "to a very warm member." + +He felt sure, however, that the Royal would stir in him the old +enthusiasms, and his heart beat when he saw in a box Kitty Carew, +looking exactly the same as the day he had left her; but she insisted +on taking credit for recognizing him--so changed was he. He felt +somewhat provincial, and no woman noticed him, and it was clear that +Kitty was no longer interested in him. The conversation languished, +he did not understand the allusions, and he was surprised and a +little alarmed, indeed, to find that he did not even desire their +attention. + +A few weeks afterwards he received an invitation to a ball. It was +from a woman of title, the address was good, and he resolved to go. +It was to one of the Queen Anne houses with which Chelsea abounds, +and as he drove towards it he noted the little windows aflame with +light and colour in the blue summer night. On the carved cramped +staircases women struck him as being more than usually interesting, +and the distinguished air of the company moved him with pleasurable +sensations. A thick creamy odour of white flowers gratified the +nostrils; the slender backs of the girls, the shoulder-blades +squeezed together by the stays, were full of delicate lines and +tints. Mike saw a tall blonde girl, slight as a reed, so blonde that +she was almost an albino, her figure in green gauze swaying. He saw a +girl so brown that he thought of palms and cocoa-nuts; she passed him +smiling, all her girlish soul awake in the enchantment of the dance. +He said-- + +"No, I don't want to be introduced; she'd only bore me; I know +exactly all she would say." + +Studying these, he thought vaguely of dancing a quadrille, and was +glad when the lady said she never danced. With a view to astonish +her, he said-- + +"Since I became a student of Schopenhauer I have given up waltzing. +Now I never indulge in anything but a square." + +For a few moments his joke amused him, and he regretted that John +Norton, who would understand its humour, was not there to laugh at +it. Having eaten supper he chose the deepest chair among the +clustered furniture of the drawing-room, and watched in spleenic +interest a woman of thirty flirting with a young man. + +The panelled skirt stretched stiffly over the knees, the legs were +crossed, one drawn slightly back. The young man sat awkwardly on the +edge of the sofa nursing his silk foot. She looked at him over her +fan, inclining her blonde head in assent from time to time. The young +man was delicate--a red blonde. The wall, laden with heavy shelves, +was covered with an embossed paper of a deep gold hue. A piece of +silk, worked with rich flowers, concealed the volumes in a light +bookcase. A lamp, set on a tall brass rod, stood behind the lady, +flooding her hair with yellow light, and its silk shade was nearly +the same tint as the lady's hair. The costly furniture, the lady and +her lover, the one in black and white, the other in creamy lace, the +panelled skirt extended over her knees, filled the room like a +picture--an enticing but somewhat vulgar picture of modern refinement +and taste. Mike watched them curiously. + +"Five years ago," he thought, "I was young like he is; my soul +thrilled as his is thrilling now." + +Then, seeing a woman whom he knew pass the door on her way to the +ball-room, he asked her to come and sit with him. He did so +remembering the tentative steps they had taken in flirtation three +years ago. So by way of transition, he said-- + +"The last time we met we spoke of the higher education of women, and +you said that nothing sharpened the wits like promiscuous flirtation. +Enchanting that was, and it made poor Mrs.--Mrs.--I really can't +remember--a lady with earnest eyes--look so embarrassed." + +"I don't believe I ever said such a thing; anyhow, if I did, I've +entirely changed my views." + +"What a pity! but--perhaps you have finished your education?" + +"Yes, that's it; and now I must go up-stairs. I am engaged for this +dance." + +"Clearly I'm out of it," thought Mike. "Not only do people see me +with new eyes, but I see them with eyes that I cannot realize as +mine." + +The drawing-room was empty; all had gone up-stairs to dance, so, +finding himself alone, he went to a mirror to note the changes. At +first he seemed the same Mike Fletcher; but by degrees he recognized, +or thought he recognized, certain remote and subtle differences. He +thought that the tenderness which used to reside in his eyes was +evanescent or gone. This tenderness had always been to him a subject +of surprise, and he had never been able to satisfactorily explain its +existence, knowing as he knew how all tenderness was in contradiction +to his true character; at least, as he understood himself. This +tenderness was now replaced by a lurking evil look, and he remembered +that he had noted such evil look in certain old libertines. Certain +lines about the face had grown harder, the hollow freckled cheeks +seemed to have sunk a little, and the pump-handle chin seemed to be +defining itself, even to caricature. There was still a certain air of +_bravoure_, of truculence, which attracted, and might still charm. He +turned from the mirror, went up-stairs, and danced three or four +times. He remained until the last, and followed by an increasing +despair he muttered, as he got into a hansom-- + +"If this is civilization I'd better go back to the Arabs." + +The solitude of his rooms chilled him in the roots of his mind; he +looked around like a hunted animal. He threw himself into an +arm-chair. Like a pure fire ennui burned in his heart. + +"Oh, for rest! I'm weary of life. Oh, to slip back into the +unconscious, whence we came, and pass for ever from the fitful +buzzing of the midges. To feel that sharp, cruel, implacable +externality of things melt, vanish, and dissolve! + +"The utter stupidity of life! There never was anything so stupid; I +mean the whole thing--our ideas of right and wrong, love and duty, +etc. Great Scott! what folly. The strange part of it all is man's +inability to understand the folly of living. When I said to that +woman to-night that I believed that the only evil is to bring +children into the world, she said, 'But then the world would come to +an end.' I said, 'Do you not think it would be a good thing if it +did?' Her look of astonishment proved how unsuspicious she is of the +truth. The ordinary run of mortals do not see into the heart of +things, nor do we, except in terribly lucid moments; then, seeing +life truly, seeing it in its monstrous deformity, we cry out like +children in the night. + +"Then why do we go to Death with terror-stricken faces and reluctant +feet? We should go to Death in perfect confidence, like a bride to +her husband, and with eager and smiling eyes. But he who seeks Death +goes with wild eyes--upbraiding Life for having deceived him; as if +Life ever did anything else! He goes to Death as a last refuge. None +go to Death in deep calm and resignation, as a child goes to the kind +and thoughtful nurse in whose arms he will find beautiful rest. + +"It was in this very room I spoke to Lady Helen for the last time. +She understood very well indeed the utter worthlessness of life. How +beautiful was her death! That white still face, with darkness +stealing from the closed lids, a film of light shadow, symbol of +deeper shadow. The unseen but easily imagined hand grasping the +pistol, the unseen but imagined red stain upon the soft texture of +the chemise! I might have loved her. She saw into the heart of +things, and like a reasonable being, which she was, resolved to rid +herself of the burden. We discussed the whole question in the next +room; and I remember I was surprised to find that she was in no wise +deceived by the casual fallacy of the fools who say that the good +times compensate for the bad. Ah! how little they understand! +Pleasure! what is it but the correlative of pain? Nothing short of +man's incomparable stupidity could enable him to distinguish between +success and failure. + +"But now I remember she did not die for any profound belief in the +worthlessness of life, but merely on account of a vulgar love affair. +That letter was quite conclusive. It was written from the Alexandra +Hotel. It was a letter breaking it off (strange that any one should +care to break off with Lady Helen!); she stopped to see him, in the +hope of bringing about a reconciliation. Quite a Bank Holiday sort of +incident! She did not deny life; but only that particular form in +which life had come to her. Under such circumstances suicide is +unjustifiable. + +"There! I'm breaking into what John Norton would call my +irrepressible levity. But there is little gladness in me. Ennui hunts +me like a hound, loosing me for a time, but finding the scent again +it follows--I struggle--escape--but the hour will come when I shall +escape no more. If Lily had not died, if I had married her, I might +have lived. In truth, I'm not alive, I'm really dead, for I live +without hope, without belief, without desire. Ridiculous as a wife +and children are when you look at them from the philosophical side, +they are necessary if man is to live; if man dispenses with the +family, he must embrace the cloister; John has done that; but now I +know that man may not live without wife, without child, without God!" + + * * * * * * + +Next day, after breakfast, he lay in his arm-chair, thinking of the +few hours that lay between him and the fall of night. He sought to +tempt his jaded appetite with many assorted dissipations, but he +turned from all in disgust, and gambling became his sole distraction. +Every evening about eleven he was seen in Piccadilly, going towards +Arlington Street, and every morning about four the street-sweepers +saw him returning home along the Strand. Then, afraid to go to bed, +he sometimes took pen and paper and attempted to write some lines of +his long-projected poem. But he found that all he had to say he had +said in the sketch which he found among his papers. The idea did not +seem to him to want any further amplification, and he sat wondering +if he could ever have written three or four thousand lines on the +subject. + +The casual eye and ear still recognized no difference in him. There +were days when he was as good-looking as ever, and much of the old +fascination remained: but to one who knew him well, as Harding did, +there was no doubt that his life had passed its meridian. The day was +no longer at poise, but was quietly sinking; and though the skies +were full of light, the buoyancy and blitheness that the hours bear +in their ascension were missing; lassitude and moodiness were aboard. + +More than ever did he seek women, urged by a nervous erethism which +he could not explain or control. Married women and young girls came +to him from drawing-rooms, actresses from theatres, shop-girls from +the streets, and though seemingly all were as unimportant and +accidental as the cigarettes he smoked, each was a drop in the ocean +of the immense ennui accumulating in his soul. The months passed, +disappearing in a sheer and measureless void, leaving no faintest +reflection or even memory, and his life flowed in unbroken weariness +and despair. There was no taste in him for anything; he had eaten of +the fruit of knowledge, and with the evil rind in his teeth, wandered +an exile beyond the garden. Dark and desolate beyond speech was his +world; dark and empty of all save the eyes of the hound Ennui; and by +day and night it watched him, fixing him with dull and unrelenting +eyes. Sometimes these acute strainings of his consciousness lasted +only between entering his chambers late at night and going to bed; +and fearful of the sleepless hours, every sensation exaggerated by +the effect of the insomnia, he sat in dreadful commune with the +spectre of his life, waiting for the apparition to leave him. + +"And to think," he cried, turning his face to the wall, "that it is +this _ego_ that gives existence to it all!" + +One of the most terrible of these assaults of consciousness came upon +him on the winter immediately on his return from London. He had gone +to London to see Miss Dudley, whom he had not seen since his return +from Africa--therefore for more than two years. Only to her had he +written from the desert; his last letters, however, had remained +unanswered, and for some time misgivings had been astir in his heart. +And it was with the view of ridding himself of these that he had been +to London. The familiar air of the house seemed to him altered, the +servant was a new one; she did not know the name, and after some +inquiries, she informed him that the lady had died some six months +past. All that was human in him had expressed itself in this +affection; among women Lily Young and Miss Dudley had alone touched +his heart; there were friends scattered through his life whom he had +worshipped; but his friendships had nearly all been, though intense, +ephemeral and circumstantial; nor had he thought constantly and +deeply of any but these two women. So long as either lived, there was +a haven of quiet happiness and natural peace in which his shattered +spirit might rock at rest; but now he was alone. + +Others he saw with homes and family ties; all seemed to have hopes +and love to look to but he--"I alone am alone! The whole world is in +love with me, and I'm utterly alone." Alone as a wreck upon a desert +ocean, terrible in its calm as in its tempest. Broken was the helm +and sailless was the mast, and he must drift till borne upon some +ship-wrecking reef! Had fate designed him to float over every rock? +must he wait till the years let through the waters of disease, and he +foundered obscurely in the immense loneliness he had so elaborately +prepared? + +Wisdom! dost thou turn in the end, and devour thyself? dost thou +vomit folly? or is folly born of thee? + +Overhead was cloud of storm, the ocean heaved, quick lightnings +flashed; but no waves gathered, and in heavy sulk a sense of doom lay +upon him. Wealth and health and talent were his; he had all, and in +all he found he had nothing;--yes, one thing was his for +evermore,--Ennui. + +Thoughts and visions rose into consciousness like monsters coming +through a gulf of dim sea-water; all delusion had fallen, and he saw +the truth in all its fearsome deformity. On awakening, the implacable +externality of things pressed upon his sight until he felt he knew +what the mad feel, and then it seemed impossible to begin another +day. With long rides, with physical fatigue, he strove to keep at bay +the despair-fiend which now had not left him hardly for weeks. For +long weeks the disease continued, almost without an intermission; he +felt sure that death was the only solution, and he considered the +means for encompassing the end with a calm that startled him. + +Nor was it until the spring months that he found any subjects that +might take him out of his melancholy, and darken the too acute +consciousness of the truth of things which was forcing him on to +madness or suicide. One day it was suggested that he should stand for +Parliament. He eagerly seized the idea, and his brain thronged +immediately with visions of political successes, of the parliamentary +triumphs he would achieve. Bah! he was an actor at heart, and +required the contagion of the multitude, and again he looked out upon +life with visionary eyes. Harsh hours fell behind him, gay hours +awaited him, held hands to him. + +Men wander far from the parent plot of earth; but a strange fatality +leads them back, they know not how. None had desired to separate from +all associations of early life more than Mike, and he was at once +glad and sorry to find that the door through which he was to enter +Parliament was Cashel. He would have liked better to represent an +English town or county, but he could taste in Cashel a triumph which +he could nowhere else in the world. To return triumphant to his +native village is the secret of every wanderer's desire, for there he +can claim not only their applause but their gratitude. + +The politics he would have to adopt made him wince, for he knew the +platitudes they entailed; and in preference he thought of the +paradoxes with which he would stupefy the House, the daring and +originality he would show in introducing subjects that, till then, no +one had dared to touch upon. With the politics of his party he had +little intention of concerning himself, for his projects were to make +for himself a reputation as an orator, and having confirmed it to +seek another constituency at the close of the present Parliament. +Such intention lay dormant in the background of his mind, but he had +not seen many Irish Nationalists before he was effervescing with +rhetoric suitable for the need of the election, and he was sometimes +puzzled to determine whether he was false or true. + +Driving through Dublin from the steamer, he met Frank Escott. They +shouted simultaneously to their carmen to stop. + +"Home to London. I've just come from Cashel. I went to try to effect +some sort of reconciliation with Mount Rorke; but--and you, where are +you going?" + +"I'm going to Cashel. I'm going to contest the town in the Parnellite +interest." + +Each pair of eyes was riveted on the other. For both men thought of +the evening when Mike had received the letter notifying that Lady +Seeley had left him five thousand a year, and Frank had read in +the evening paper that Lady Mount Rorke had given birth to a son. +Frank was, as usual, voluble and communicative. He dilated on the +painfulness of the salutations of the people he had met on the +way going from the station to Mount Rorke; and, instead of walking +straight in, as in old times, he had to ask the servant to take +his name. + +"Burton, the old servant who had known me since I was a boy, seemed +terribly cut up, and he was evidently very reluctant to speak the +message. 'I'm very sorry, Mr. Frank,' he said, 'but his lordship says +he is too unwell to see any one to-day, sir; he is very sorry, but if +you would write' ... If I would write! think of it, I who was once +his heir, and used the place as if it were mine! Poor old Burton +was quite overcome. He tried to ask me to come into the dining-room +and have some lunch. If I go there again I shall be asked into the +servants' hall. And at that moment the nurse came, wheeling the baby +in the perambulator through the hall, going out for an airing. I +tried not to look, but couldn't restrain my eyes, and the nurse +stopped and said, 'Now then, dear, give your hand to the gentleman, +and tell him your name.' The little thing looked up, its blue eyes +staring out of its sallow face, and it held out the little putty-like +hand. Poor old Burton turned aside, he couldn't stand it any longer, +and walked into the dining-room." + +"And how did you get away?" asked Mike, who saw his friend's +misfortune in the light of an exquisite chapter in a novel. "How sad +the old place must have seemed to you!" + +"You are thinking how you could put it in a book--how brutal you +are!" + +"I assure you you are wrong. I can't help trying to realize your +sensations, but that doesn't prevent me from being very sorry for +you, and I'm sure I shall be very pleased to help you. Do you want +any money? Don't be shy about saying yes. I haven't forgotten how you +helped me." + +"I really don't like to ask you, you've been very good as it is. +However, if you could spare me a tenner?" + +"Of course I can. Let's send these jarvies away, and come into my +hotel, and I'll write you a cheque." + +The sum Frank asked for revealed to Mike exactly the depth to which +he had sunk since they had last met. Small as it was, however, it +seemed to have had considerable effect in reviving Frank's spirits, +and he proceeded quite cheerfully into the tale of his misfortune. +Now it seemed to strike him too in quite a literary light, and he +made philosophic comments on its various aspects, as he might on the +hero of a book which he was engaged on or contemplated writing. + +"No," he said, "you were quite wrong in supposing that I waited to +look back on the old places. I got out of the park through a wood so +as to avoid the gate-keeper. In moments of great despair we don't +lapse into pensive contemplation." ... He stopped to pull at the +cigar Mike had given him, and when he had got it well alight, he +said, "It was really most dramatic, it would make a splendid scene in +a play; you might make him murder the baby." + +Half an hour after Mike bade his friend good-bye, glad to be rid of +him. + +"He's going back to that beastly wife who lives in some dirty +lodging. How lucky I was, after all, not to marry." + +Then, remembering the newspaper, and the use it might be to him when +in Parliament, he rushed after Frank. When the _Pilgrim_ was +mentioned Frank's face changed expression, and he seemed stirred with +deeper grief than when he related the story of his disinheritance. He +had no further connection with the paper. Thigh had worked him out of +it. + +"I never really despaired," he said, "until I lost my paper. Thigh +has asked me to send him paragraphs, but of course I'm not going to +do that." + +"Why not?" + +"Well, hang it, after being the editor of a paper, you aren't going +to send in paragraphs on approval. It isn't good enough. When I go +back to London I shall try to get a sub-editorship." + +Mike pressed another tenner upon him, and returning to the +smoking-room, and throwing himself into an arm-chair, he lapsed into +dreams of the bands and the banners that awaited him. When animal +spirits were ebullient in him, he regarded his election in the light +of a vulgar practical joke; when the philosophic mood was upon him he +turned from all thought of it as from the smell of a dirty kitchen +coming through a grating. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +During the first session Mike was hampered and inconvenienced by the +forms of the House; in the second, he began to weary of its routine. +His wit and paradox attracted some attention; he made one almost +successful speech, many that stirred and stimulated the minds of +celebrated listeners; but for all that he failed. His failure to +redeem the expectations of his friends, produced in him much stress +and pain of mind, the more acute because he was fully alive to the +cause. He ascribed it rightly to certain inherent flaws in his +character. "The world believes in those who believe in it. Such +belief may prove a lack of intelligence on the part of the believer, +but it secures him success, and success is after all the only thing +that compensates for the evil of life." + +Always impressed by new ideas, rarely holding to any impression long, +finding all hollow and common very soon, he had been taken with the +importance of the national assembly, but it had hardly passed into +its third session when all illusion had vanished, and Mike ridiculed +parliamentary ambitions in the various chambers of the barristers he +frequented. + +It was May-time, and never did the Temple wear a more gracious +aspect. The river was full of hay-boats, the gardens were green with +summer hours. Through the dim sky, above the conical roof of the dear +church, the pigeons fled in rapid quest, and in Garden Court, beneath +the plane-trees, old folk dozed, listening to the rippling tune of +the fountain and the shrilling of the sparrows. In King's Bench Walk +the waving branches were full of their little brown bodies. Sparrows +everywhere, flying from the trees to the eaves, hopping on the golden +gravel, beautifully carpeted with the rich shadows of the +trees--unabashed little birds, scarcely deigning to move out of the +path of the young men as they passed to and fro from their offices to +the library. "That sweet, grave place where we weave our ropes of +sand," so Mike used to speak of it. + +The primness of the books, the little galleries guarded by brass +railings, here and there a reading-desk, the sweet silence of the +place, the young men reading at the polished oak tables, the colour +of the oak and the folios, the rich Turkey carpets, lent to the +library that happy air of separation from the brutalities of life +which is almost sanctity. These, the familiar aspects of the Temple, +moved him with all their old enchantments; he lingered in the warm +summer mornings when all the Temple was astir, gossiping with the +students, or leaning upon the balustrades in pensive contemplation of +the fleet river. + +But these moods of passive happiness were interrupted more frequently +than they had been in earlier years by the old whispering voice, now +grown strangely distinct, which asked, but no longer through laughing +lips, if it were possible to discern any purpose in life, and if all +thoughts and things were not as vain as a little measure of sand. The +dark fruit that hangs so alluringly over the wall of the garden of +life now met his eyes frequently, tempting him, and perforce he must +stay to touch and consider it. Then, resolved to baffle at all costs +the disease which he now knew pursued him, he plunged in the crowd of +drunkenness and debauchery which swelled the Strand at night. He was +found where prize-fighters brawled, and card-sharpers cajoled; where +hall singers fed on truffled dishes, and courtesans laughed and +called for champagne. He was seen in Lubini's sprawling over luncheon +tables till late in the afternoon, and at nightfall lingering about +the corners of the streets, talking to the women that passed. In such +low form of vice he sought escape. He turned to gambling, risking +large sums, sometimes imperilling his fortune for the sake of the +assuagement such danger brought of the besetting sin. But luck poured +thousands into his hands; and he applied himself to the ruin of one +seeking to bring about his death. + +"Before I kill myself," he said, "I will kill others; I'm weary of +playing at Faust, now I'll play at Mephistopheles." + +Henceforth all men who had money, or friends who had money, were +invited to Temple Gardens. You met there members of both Houses of +Parliament--the successors of Muchross and Snowdown; and men +exquisitely dressed, with quick, penetrating eyes, assembled there, +actors and owners of race-horses galore, and bright-complexioned +young men of many affections. Rising now from the piano one is heard +to say reproachfully, "You never admire anything I wear," to a grave +friend who had passed some criticism on the flower in the young man's +button-hole. + +It was still early in the evening, and the usual company had not yet +arrived. Harding stood on the white fur hearthrug, his legs slightly +apart, smoking. Mike lay in an easy-chair. His eyes were upon +Harding, whom he had not seen for some years, and the sight of him +recalled the years when they wrote the _Pilgrim_ together. + +He thought how splendid were then his enthusiasms and how genuine his +delight in life. It was in this very room that he kissed Lily for the +first time. That happy day. Well did he remember how the sun shone +upon the great river, how the hay-boats sailed, how the city rose +like a vision out of the mist. But Lily lies asleep, far away in a +southern land; she lies sleeping, facing Italy--that Italy which they +should have seen and dreamed together. At that moment, he brushed +from his book a little green insect that had come out of the night, +and it disappeared in faint dust. + +It was in this room he had seen Lady Helen for the last time; and he +remembered how, when he returned to her, after having taken Lily back +to the dancing-room, he had found her reading a letter, and almost +the very words of the conversation it had given rise to came back to +him, and her almost aggressive despair. No one could say why she had +shot herself. Who was the man that had deserted her? What was he +like? Was it Harding? It was certainly for a lover who had tired of +her; and Mike wondered how it were possible to weary of one so +beautiful and so interesting, and he believed that if she had loved +him they both would have found content. + +"Do you remember, Harding, that it was in this room we saw Lady Helen +alive for the last time? What a tragedy that was! Do you remember the +room in the Alexandra Hotel, the firelight, with the summer morning +coming through the Venetian blinds? Somehow there was a sense of +sculpture, even without the beautiful body. Seven years have passed. +She has enjoyed seven years of peace and rest; we have endured seven +years of fret and worry. Life of course was never worth living, but +the common stupidity of the nineteenth century renders existence for +those who may see into the heart of things almost unbearable. I +confess that every day man's stupidity seems to me more and more +miraculous. Indeed it may be said to be divine, so inherent and so +unalterable is it; and to understand it we need not stray from the +question in hand--suicide. A man is houseless, he is old, he is +friendless, he is starving, he is assailed in every joint by cruel +disease; to save himself from years of suffering he lights a pan of +charcoal; and, after carefully considering all the circumstances, the +jury returns a verdict of suicide while in a state of temporary +insanity. Out of years of insanity had sprung a supreme moment of +sanity, and no one understands it. The common stupidity, I should say +the common insanity, of the world on the subject of suicide is quite +comic. A man may destroy his own property, which would certainly be +of use to some one, but he may not destroy his own life, which +possibly is of use to no one; and if two men conspire to commit +suicide and one fails, the other is tried for murder and hanged. Can +the mind conceive more perfect nonsense?" + +"I cannot say I agree with you," said Harding; "man's aversion to +suicide seems to me perfectly comprehensible." + +"Does it really! Well, I should like to hear you develop that +paradox." + +"Your contention is that it is inconceivable that in an already +over-crowded society men should not look rather with admiration than +with contempt on those who, convinced that they block the way, +surrender their places to those better able to fill them; and it is +to you equally inconceivable that a man should be allowed to destroy +his property and not his person. Your difficulty seems to me to arise +from your not taking into consideration the instinctive nature of +man. The average man may be said to be purely instinctive. In popular +opinion--that is to say, in his own opinion--he is supposed to be a +reasonable being; but a short acquaintance shows him to be illumined +with no faintest ray of reason. His sense of right and wrong is +purely instinctive; talk to him about it, and you will see that you +might as well ask a sheep-dog why he herds the sheep." + +"Quite so; but I do not see how that explains his aversion to +suicide." + +"I think it does. There are two forces in human nature--instinct and +reason. The first is the very principle of life, and exists in all we +see--give it a philosophic name, and call it the 'will to live.' All +acts, therefore, proceed from instinct or from reason. Suicide is +clearly not an instinctive act, it is therefore a reasonable act; and +being of all acts the least instinctive, it is of necessity the most +reasonable; reason and instinct are antagonistic; and the extreme +point of their antagonism must clearly be suicide. One is the +assertion of life, the other is the denial of life. The world is +mainly instinctive, and therefore very tolerant to all assertions of +the will to live; it is in other words full of toleration for itself; +no one is reproved for bringing a dozen children into the world, +though he cannot support them, because to reprove him would involve a +partial condemnation of the will to live; and the world will not +condemn itself. + +"If suicide merely cut the individual thread of life our brothers +would rejoice. Nature is concerned in the preservation of the +species, not in the preservation of the individual; but suicide is +more than the disappearance of an individual life, it is a protest +against all life, therefore man, in the interest of the life of the +race, condemns the suicide. The struggle for life is lessened by +every death, but the injury inflicted on the desire of life is +greater; in other words, suicide is such a stimulant to the exercise +of reason (which has been proved antagonistic to life), that man, in +defence of instinct, is forced to condemn suicide. + +"And it is curious to note that of all the manners of death which may +bring them fortune, men like suicide the least; a man would prefer to +inherit a property through his father falling a prey to a disease +that tortured him for months rather than he should blow his brains +out. If he were to sound his conscience, his conscience would tell +him that his preference resulted from consideration for his father's +soul. For as man acquired reason, which, as I have shown, endangers +the sovereignty of the will to live, he developed notions of eternal +life, such notions being necessary to check and act as a drag upon +the new force that had been introduced into his life. He says suicide +clashes with the principle of eternal life. So it does, so it does, +he is quite right, but how delightful and miraculously obtuse. We +must not take man for a reasoning animal; ants and bees are hardly +more instinctive and less reasonable than the majority of men. + +"But far more than with any ordinary man is it amusing to discuss +suicide with a religionist. The religionist does not know how to +defend himself. If he is a Roman Catholic he says the Church forbids +suicide, and that ends the matter; but other churches have no answer +to make, for they find in the Old and New Testament not a shred of +text to cover themselves with. From the first page of the Bible to +the last there is not a word to say that a man does not hold his life +in his hands, and may not end it when he pleases." + +"Why don't you write an article on suicide? It would frighten people +out of their wits!" said Mike. + +"I hope he'll do nothing of the kind," said a man who had been +listening with bated breath. "We should have every one committing +suicide all around us--the world would come to an end." + +"And would that matter much?" said Mike, with a scornful laugh. "You +need not be afraid. No bit of mere scribbling will terminate life; +the principle of life is too deeply rooted ever to be uprooted; +reason will ever remain powerless to harm it. Very seldom, if ever, +has a man committed suicide for purely intellectual reasons. It +nearly always takes the form of a sudden paroxysm of mind. The will +to live is an almost unassailable fortress, and it will remain +impregnable everlastingly." + +The entrance of some men, talking loudly of betting and women, +stopped the conversation. The servants brought forth the card-tables. +Mike played several games of écarté, cheating openly, braving +detection. He did not care what happened, and almost desired the +violent scene that would ensue on his being accused of packing the +cards. But nothing happened, and about one o'clock, having bade the +last guest good-night, he returned to the dining-room. The room in +its disorder of fruit and champagne looked like a human being--Mike +thought it looked like himself. He drank a tumbler of champagne and +returned to the drawing-room, his pockets full of the money he had +swindled from a young man. He threw himself on a sofa by the open +window and listened to the solitude, terribly punctuated by the +clanging of the clocks. All the roofs were defined on the blue night, +and he could hear the sound of water falling. The trees rose in vague +masses indistinguishable, and beyond was the immense brickwork which +hugs the shores. In the river there were strange reflections, and +above the river there were blood-red lamps. + +"If I were to fling myself from this window! ... I shouldn't feel +anything; but I should be a shocking sight on the pavement.... Great +Scott! this silence is awful, and those whispering trees, and those +damned clocks--another half-hour of life gone. I shall go mad if +something doesn't happen." + +There came a knock. Who could it be? It did not matter, anything was +better than silence. He threw open the door, and a pretty girl, +almost a child, bounded into the room, making it ring with her +laughter. + +"Oh, Mike! darling Mike, I have left home; I couldn't live without +you; ... aren't you glad to see me?" + +"Of course I'm glad to see you." + +"Then why don't you kiss me?" she said, jumping on his knees and +throwing her arms about his neck. + +"What a wicked little girl you are!" + +"Wicked! It is you who make me wicked, my own darling Mike. I ran +away from home for you, all for you; I should have done it for nobody +else.... I ran away the day--the day before yesterday. My aunt was +annoying me for going out in the lane with some young fellows. I said +nothing for a long time. At last I jumps up, and I says that I would +stand it no longer; I told her straight; I says you'll never see me +again, never no more; I'll go away to London to some one who is +awfully nice. And of course I meant you, my own darling Mike." And +the room rang with girlish laughter. + +"But where are you staying?" said Mike, seriously alarmed. + +"Where am I staying? I'm staying with a young lady friend of mine who +lives in Drury Lane, so I'm not far from you. You can come and see +me," she said, and her face lit with laughter. "We are rather hard +up. If you could lend me a sovereign I should be so much obliged." + +"Yes, I'll lend you a sovereign, ten if you like; but I hope you'll +go back to your aunt. I know the world better than you, my dear +little Flossy, and I tell you that Drury Lane is no place for you." + +"I couldn't go back to aunt; she wouldn't take me back; besides, I +want to remain in London for the present." + +Before she left Mike filled the astonished child's hands with money, +and as she paused beneath his window he threw some flowers towards +her, and listened to her laughter ringing through the pale morning. +Now the night was a fading thing, and the town and Thames lay in the +faint blue glamour of the dawn. Another day had begun, and the rattle +of a morning cart was heard. Mike shut the window, hesitating between +throwing himself out of it, and going to bed. + +"As long as I can remember, I have had these fits of depression, but +now they never leave me; I seem more than ever incapable of shaking +them off." + +Then he thought of the wickedness he had done, not of the wickedness +of his life--that seemed to him unlimited,--but of the wickedness +accomplished within the last few hours, and he wondered if he had +done worse in cheating the young man at cards or giving the money he +had won to Flossy. "Having tasted of money, she will do anything to +obtain more. I suppose she is hopelessly lost, and will go from bad +to worse. But really I don't see that I am wholly responsible. I +advised her to go home, I could do no more. But I will get her aunt's +address and write to her. Or I will inform some of the philanthropic +people." + +A few days after, he came in contact with some. Their fervour +awakened some faint interest in him, and now, as weary of playing at +Mephistopheles as he was of playing at Faust, he followed the +occupation of his new friends. But his attempts at reformation were +vain, they wore out the soul, and left it only more hopeless than +before; and he remembered John Norton's words, that faith is a gift +from God which we must cherish, or He will take it from us utterly; +and sighing, Mike recognized the great truth underlying a primitive +mode of expression. He had drifted too far into the salt sea of +unfaith and cynicism, ever to gain again the fair if illusive shores +of aspiration--maybe illusive, but no more illusive than the cruel +sea that swung him like a wreck in its current, feeding upon him as +the sea feeds. Nor could he make surrender of his passion of life, +saying-- + +"I see into the heart of things, I know the truth, and in the calm +possession of knowledge am able to divest myself of my wretched +individuality, and so free myself of all evils, seeking in +absorption, rather than by violent ends, to rid myself of +consciousness." + +But this, the religion of the truly wise, born in the sublime East, +could find no roothold in Mike Fletcher--that type and epitome of +Western grossness and lust of life. Religions being a synthesis of +moral aspirations, developed through centuries, are mischievous and +untrue except in the circumstances and climates in which they have +grown up, and native races are decimated equally by the importation +of a religion or a disease. True it is that Christianity was a +product of the East, but it was an accidental and inferior offshoot +from the original religion of the race, not adapted to their needs, +and fitted only for exportation. And now, tainted and poisoned by a +thousand years of habitation in the West, Christianity returns to the +East, virulent and baneful as small-pox, a distinctly demoralizing +influence, having power only to change excellent Buddhists into +prostitutes and thieves. And in such a way, according to the same +laws, Mike had observed, since he had adopted pessimism, certain +unmistakable signs in himself of moral degeneracy. + +He had now exhausted all Nature's remedies, save one--Drink, and he +could not drink. Drink has often rescued men, in straits of mental +prostration, from the charcoal-pan, the pistol, and the river. But +Mike could not drink, and Nature sought in vain to re-adjust again, +and balance anew, forces which seemed now irretrievably disarranged. +All the old agencies were exhausted, and the new force, which chance, +co-operating with natural disposition, had introduced, was dominant +in him. Against it women were now powerless, and he turned aside from +offered love. + +It is probable that the indirect influences to which we have been +subjected before birth outweigh the few direct influences received by +contagion with present life. But the direct influences, slight as +they may be, are worth considering, they being the only ones of which +we have any exact knowledge, even if in so doing we exaggerate them; +and in striving to arrive at a just estimation of the forces that had +brought about his present mind, Mike was in the habit of giving +prominence to the thought of the demoralizing influence of the +introduction of Eastern pessimism into a distinctly Western nature. +He remembered very well indeed the shock he had received when he had +heard John say for the first time that it was better that human life +should cease. + +"For man's history, what is it but the history of crime? Man's life, +what is it but a disgraceful episode in the life of one of the +meanest of the planets? Let us be thankful that time shall obliterate +the abominable, and that once again the world shall roll pure through +the silence of the universe." + +So John had once spoken, creating consternation in Mike's soul, +casting poison upon it. But John had buried himself in Catholicism +for refuge from this awful creed, leaving Mike to perish in it. Then +Mike wondered if he should have lived and died a simple, honourable, +God-fearing man, if he had not been taken out of the life he was born +in, if he had married in Ireland, for instance, and driven cattle to +market, as did his ancestors. + +One day hearing the organ singing a sweet anthem, he stayed to +listen. It being midsummer, the doors of the church were open, the +window was in his view, and the congregation came streaming out into +the sunshine of the courts, some straying hither and thither, taking +note of the various monuments. In such occupation he spoke to one +whom he recognized at once as a respectable shop-girl. He took her +out to dinner, dazzled and delighted her with a present of jewelry, +enchanted her with assurances of his love. But when her manner +insinuated an inclination to yield, he lost interest, and wrote +saying he was forced to leave town. Soon after, he wrote to a certain +actress proposing to write a play for her. The proposal was not made +with a view to deceiving her, but rather in the intention of securing +their liaison against caprice, by involving in it various mutual +advantages. For three weeks they saw each other frequently; he +wondered if he loved her, he dreamed of investing his talents in her +interest, and so rebuilding the falling edifice of his life. + +"I could crush an affection out of my heart as easily as I could kill +a fly," she said. + +"Ah!" he said, "my heart is as empty as a desert, and no affection +shall enter there again." + +An appointment was made to go out to supper, but he wrote saying he +was leaving town to be married. Nor was his letter a lie. After long +hesitations he had decided on this step, and it seemed to him clear +that no one would suit him so well as Mrs. Byril. By marrying an old +mistress, he would save himself from all the boredom of a honeymoon. +And sitting in the drawing-room, in the various pauses between +numerous licentious stories, they discussed their matrimonial +project. + +Dear Emily, who said she suffered from loneliness and fear of the +future as acutely as he, was anxious to force the matter forward. But +her eagerness begot reluctance in Mike, and at the end of a week, he +felt that he would sooner take his razor and slice his head off, than +live under the same roof with her. + +In Regent Street one evening he met Frank Escott. After a few +preliminary observations Mike asked him if he had heard lately from +Lord Mount Rorke. Frank said that he had not seen him. All was over +between them, but his uncle had, however, arranged to allow him two +hundred a year. He was living at Mortlake, "a nice little house; our +neighbour on the left is a city clerk at a salary of seventy pounds a +year, on the right is a chemist's shop; a very nice woman is the +chemist's wife; my wife and the chemist's wife are fast friends. We +go over and have tea with them, and they come and have tea with us. +The chemist and I smoke our pipes over the garden wall. All this +appears very dreadful to you, but I assure you I have more real +pleasure, and take more interest in my life, than ever I did before. +My only trouble is the insurance policy--I must keep that paid up, +for the two hundred a year's only an annuity. It makes a dreadful +hole in our income. You might come down and see us." + +"And be introduced to the chemist's wife!" + +"There's no use in trying to come it over me; I know who you are. I +have seen you many times about the roads in a tattered jacket. You +mustn't think that because all the good luck went your way, and all +the bad luck my way, that I'm any less a gentleman, or you any less a +----" + +"My dear Frank, I'm really very sorry for what I said; I forgot. I +assure you I didn't mean to sneer. I give you my word of honour." + +They walked around Piccadilly Circus, edging their way through the +women, that the sultry night had brought out in white dresses. It was +a midnight of white dresses and fine dust; the street was as clean as +a ball-room; like a pure dream the moon soared through the azure +infinities, whitening the roadway; the cabmen loitered, following +those who showed disposition to pair; groups gathered round the +lamp-posts, and were dispersed by stalwart policemen. "Move on, move +on, if you please, gentlemen!" + +Frank told Mike about the children. He had now a boy five years old, +"such a handsome fellow, and he can read as well as you or I can. +He's down at the sea-side now with his mother. He wrote me such a +clever letter, telling me he had just finished _Robinson Crusoe_, and +was going to make a start on _Gulliver's Travels_. I'm crazy about my +boy. Talk of being tired of living, my trouble is that I shall have +to leave him one day." + +Mike thought Frank's love of his son charming, and he regretted he +could find in his own heart no such simple sentiments! Every now and +then he turned to look after a girl, and pulling his moustache, +muttered-- + +"Not bad!" + +"Well, don't let's say anything more about it. When will you come and +see us?" + +"What day will suit you--some day next week?" + +"Yes, I'm always in in the evening; will you come to dinner?" + +Mike replied evasively, anxious not to commit himself to a promise +for any day. Then seeing that Frank thought he did not care to dine +with him, he said-- + +"Very well, let us say Wednesday." + +He bade his friend good-night, and stood on the edge of the pavement +watching him make his way across the street to catch the last +omnibus. Mike's mind filled with memories of Frank. They came from +afar, surging over the shores of youth, thundering along the cliffs +of manhood. Out of the remote regions of boyhood they came, white +crests uplifted, merging and mingling in the waters of life. It +seemed to Mike that, like sea-weed, he and Frank had been washed +together, and they then had been washed apart. That was life, and +that was the result of life, that and nothing more. And of every +adventure Frank was the most distinctly realizable; all else, even +Lily, was a little shadow that had come and gone. John had lost +himself in religion, Frank had lost himself in his wife and child. To +lose yourself, that is the end to strive for; absorption in religion +or in the family. They had attained it, he had failed. All the love +and all the wealth fortune had poured upon him had not enabled him to +stir from or change that entity which he knew as Mike Fletcher. Ten +years ago he had not a shilling to his credit, to-day he had several +thousands, but the irreparable had not altered--he was still Mike +Fletcher. He had wandered over the world; he had lain in the arms of +a hundred women, and nothing remained of it all but Mike Fletcher. +There was apparently no escape; he was lashed to himself like the +convict to the oar. For him there was nothing but this oar, and all +the jewelry that had been expended upon it had not made it anything +but an oar. There was a curse upon it all. + +He saw Frank's home--the little parlour with its bits of furniture, +scraggy and vulgar, but sweet with the presence of the wife and her +homely occupations; then the children--the chicks--cooing and +chattering, creating such hope and fond anxiety! Why then did he not +have wife and children? Of all worldly possessions they are the +easiest to obtain. Because he had created a soul that irreparably +separated him from these, the real and durable prizes of life; they +lay beneath his hands, but his soul said no; he desired, and was +powerless to take what he desired. + +For a moment he stood, in puzzled curiosity, listening to the fate +that his thoughts were prophesying; then, as if in answer antiphonal, +terrible as the announcing of the chorus, came a quick thought, quick +and sharp as a sword, fatal as a sword set against the heart. He +strove to turn its point aside, he attempted to pass it by, but on +every side he met its point, though he reasoned in jocular and +serious mood. Then his courage falling through him like a stone +dropped into a well, he crossed the street, seeking the place Flossy +had told him of, and soon after saw her walking a little in front of +him with another girl. She beckoned him, leading the way through +numerous by-streets. Something in the sound of certain footsteps told +him he was being followed; his reason warned him away, yet he could +not but follow. And in the shop below and on the stairs of the low +eating-house where they had led him, loud voices were heard and +tramping of feet. Instantly he guessed the truth, and drew the +furniture across the doorway. The window was over twenty feet from +the ground, but he might reach the water-butt. He jumped from the +window-sill, falling into the water, out of which he succeeded in +drawing himself; hence he crawled along the wall, dropped into the +lane, hearing his pursuers shouting to him from the window. There +were only a few children in the lane; he sped quickly past, gained a +main street, hailed a cab, and was driven safely to the Temple. + +He flung off his shoes, which were full of water; his trousers were +soaking, and having rid himself of them, he wrapped himself in a +dressing-gown, and went into the sitting-room in his slippers. It was +the same as when it was Frank's room. There was the grand piano and +the slender brass lamps; he had lit none, but stood uncertain, his +bed-room candle in his hand. And listening, he could hear London +along the Embankment--all occasional cry, the rattle of a cab, the +hollow whistle of a train about to cross the bridge at Blackfriars, +the shrill whistle of a train far away in the night. He had escaped +from his pursuers, but not from himself. + +"How horribly lonely it is here," he muttered. Then he thought of how +narrowly he had escaped disgraceful exposure of his infamy. "If those +fellows had got hold of my name it would have been in the papers the +day after to-morrow. What a fool I am! why do I risk so much? and for +what?" He turned from the memory as from sight of some disgustful +deformity or disease. Going to the mirror he studied his face for +some reflection of the soul; but unable to master his feelings, in +which there was at once loathing and despair, he threw open the +window and walked out of the suffocating room into the sultry +balcony. + +It was hardly night; the transparent obscurity of the summer midnight +was dissolving; the slight film of darkness which had wrapped the +world was evanescent. "Is it day or night?" he asked. "Oh, it is day! +another day has begun; I escaped from my mortal enemies, but not from +the immortal day. Like a gray beast it comes on soft velvet paws to +devour. Stay! oh, bland and beautiful night, thou that dost so +charitably hide our misfortunes, stay! + +"I shudder when I think of the new evils and abominations that this +day will bring. The world is still at rest, lying in the partial +purity of sleep. But as a cruel gray beast the day comes on soundless +velvet paws. Light and desire are one; light and desire are the claws +that the gray beast unsheathes; a few hours' oblivion and the world's +torment begins again!" Then looking down the great height, he thought +how he might spring from consciousness into oblivion--the town and +the river were now distinct in ghastly pallor--"I should feel +nothing. But what a mess I should make; what a horrible little mess!" + +After breakfast he sat looking into space, wondering what he might +do. He hoped for a visitor, and yet he could not think of one that he +desired to see. A woman! the very thought was distasteful. He rose +and went to the window. London implacable lay before him, a morose +mass of brick, fitting sign and symbol of life. And the few hours +that lay between breakfast and dinner were narrow and brick-coloured; +and longing for the vast green hours of the country, he went to +Belthorpe Park. But in a few weeks the downs and lanes fevered and +exasperated him, and perforce he must seek some new distraction. +Henceforth he hurried from house to house, tiring of each last abode +more rapidly than the one that had preceded it. He read no books, and +he only bought newspapers to read the accounts of suicides; and his +friends had begun to notice the strange interest with which he spoke +of those who had done away with themselves, and the persistency with +which he sought to deduce their motives from the evidence; and he +seemed to be animated by a wish to depreciate all worldly reasons, +and to rely upon weariness of life as sufficient motive for their +action. + +The account of two young people engaged to be married, who had taken +tickets for some short journey and shot themselves in the railway +carriage. "Here," he said, "was a case of absolute sanity, a quality +almost undiscoverable in human nature. Two young people resolve to +rid themselves of the burden; but they are more than utilitarians, +they are poets, and of a high order; for, not only do they make most +public and emphatic denial of life, but they add to it a measure of +Aristophanesque satire--they engage themselves to marry. Now marriage +is man's approval and confirmation of his belief in human +existence--they engage themselves to marry, but instead of putting +their threat into execution, they enter a railway carriage and blow +out their brains, proving thereby that they had brains to blow out." + +When, however, it transpired that letters were found in the pockets +of the suicides to the effect that they had hoped to gain such +notoriety as the daily press can give by their very flagrant +leave-taking of this world, Mike professed much regret, and gravely +assured his astonished listeners that, in the face of these letters +which had unhappily come to light, he withdrew his praise of the +quality of the brains blown out. In truth he secretly rejoiced that +proof of the imperfect sanity of the suicides had come to light and +assured himself that when he did away with Mike Fletcher, that he +would revenge himself on society by leaving behind him a document +which would forbid the usual idiotic verdict, "Suicide while in a +state of temporary insanity," and leave no loophole through which it +might be said that he was impelled to seek death for any extraneous +reasons whatever. He would go to death in the midst of the most +perfect worldly prosperity the mind could conceive, desiring nothing +but rest, profoundly convinced of the futility of all else, and the +perfect folly of human effort. + +In such perverse and morbid mind Mike returned to London. It was in +the beginning of August, and the Temple weltered in sultry days and +calm nights. The river flowed sluggishly through its bridges; the +lights along its banks gleamed fiercely in the lucent stillness of a +sulphur-hued horizon. Like a nightmare the silence of the apartment +lay upon his chest; and there was a frightened look in his eyes as he +walked to and fro. The moon lay like a creole amid the blue curtains +of the night; the murmur of London hushed in stray cries, and only +the tread of the policeman was heard distinctly. About the river the +night was deepest, and out of the shadows falling from the bridges +the lamps gleamed with strange intensity, some flickering sadly in +the water. Mike walked into the dining-room. He could see the sward +in the darkness that the trees spread, and the lilies reeked in the +great stillness. Then he thought of the old days when the _Pilgrim_ +was written in these rooms, and of the youthfulness of those days; +and he maddened when he recalled the evenings of artistic converse in +John Norton's room--how high were then their aspirations! The Temple, +too, seemed to have lost youth and gaiety. No longer did he meet his +old friends in the eating-houses and taverns. Everything had been +dispersed or lost. Some were married, some had died. + +Then the solitude grew more unbearable and he turned from it, hoping +he might meet some one he knew. As he passed up Temple Lane he saw a +slender woman dressed in black, talking to the policemen. He had +often seen her about the Courts and Buildings, and had accosted her, +but she had passed without heeding. Curious to hear who and what she +was, Mike entered into conversation with one of the policemen. + +"She! we calls her old Specks, sir." + +"I have often seen her about, and I spoke to her once, but she didn't +answer." + +"She didn't hear you, sir; she's a little deaf. A real good sort, +sir, is old Jenny. She's always about here. She was brought out in +the Temple; she lived eight years with a Q.C., sir. He's dead. A +strapping fine wench she was then, I can tell you." + +"And what does she do now?" + +"She has three or four friends here. She goes to see Mr.--I can't +think of his name--you know him, the red-whiskered man in Dr. +Johnson's Buildings. You have seen him in the Probate Court many a +time." And then in defence of her respectability, if not of her +morals, the policeman said, "You'll never see her about the streets, +sir, she only comes to the Temple." + +Old Jenny stood talking to the younger member of the force. When she +didn't hear him she cooed in the soft, sweet way of deaf women; and +her genial laugh told Mike that the policeman was not wrong when he +described her as a real good sort. She spoke of her last 'bus, and on +being told the time gathered up her skirts and ran up the Lane. + +Then the policemen related anecdotes concerning their own and the +general amativeness of the Temple. + +"But, lor, sir, it is nothing now to what it used to be! Some years +ago, half the women of London used to be in here of a night; now +there's very little going on--an occasional kick up, but nothing to +speak of." + +"What are you laughing at?" said Mike, looking from one to the other. + +The policemen consulted each other, and then one said-- + +"You didn't hear about the little shindy we had here last night, sir? +It was in Elm Court, just behind you, sir. We heard some one shouting +for the police; we couldn't make out where the shouting came from +first, we were looking about--the echo in these Courts makes it very +difficult to say where a voice comes from. At last we saw the fellow +at the window, and we went up. He met us at the door. He said, +'Policemen, the lady knocked at my door and asked for a drink; I +didn't notice that she was drunk, and I gave her a brandy-and-soda, +and before I could stop her she undressed herself!' There was the +lady right enough, in her chemise, sitting in the arm-chair, as drunk +as a lord, humming and singing as gay, sir, as any little bird. Then +the party says, 'Policeman, do your duty!' I says, 'What is my duty?' +He says, 'Policeman, I'll report you!' I says, 'Report yourself. I +knows my duty.' He says, 'Policeman, remove that woman!' I says, 'I +can't remove her in that state. Tell her to dress herself and I'll +remove her.' Well, the long and the short of it, sir, is, that we had +to dress her between us, and I never had such a job." + +The exceeding difficulties of this toilette, as narrated by the +stolid policeman, made Mike laugh consummately. Then alternately, and +in conjunction, the policemen told stories concerning pursuits +through the areas and cellars with which King's Bench Walk abounds. + +"It was from Paper Buildings that the little girl came from who tried +to drown herself in the fountain." + +"Oh, I haven't heard about her," said Mike. "She tried to drown +herself in the fountain, did she? Crossed in love; tired of life; +which was it?" + +"Neither, sir; she was a bit drunk, that was about it. My mate could +tell you about her, he pulled her out. She's up before the magistrate +to-day again." + +"Just fancy, bringing a person up before a magistrate because she +wanted to commit suicide! Did any one ever hear such rot? If our own +persons don't belong to us, I don't know what does. But tell me about +her." + +"She went up to see a party that lives in Pump Court. We was at home, +so she picks up her skirts, runs across here, and throws herself in. +I see her run across, and follows her; but I had to get into the +water to get her out; I was wet to the waist--there's about four feet +of water in that 'ere fountain." + +"And she?" + +"She had fainted. We had to send for a cab to get her to the station, +sir." + +At that moment the presence of the sergeant hurried the policemen +away, and Mike was left alone. The warm night air was full of the +fragrance of the leaves, and he was alive to the sensation of the +foliage spreading above him, and deepening amid the branches of the +tall plane-trees that sequestered and shadowed the fountain. They +grew along the walls, forming a quiet dell, in whose garden silence +the dripping fountain sang its song of falling water. Light and shade +fell picturesquely about the steps descending to the gardens, and the +parapeted buildings fell in black shadows upon the sward, and stood +sharp upon the moon illuminated blue. Mike sat beneath the +plane-trees, and the suasive silence, sweetly tuned by the dripping +water, murmured in his soul dismal sorrowings. Over the cup, whence +issued the jet that played during the day, the water flowed. There +were there the large leaves of some aquatic plant, and Mike wondered +if, had the policeman not rescued the girl, she would now be in +perfect peace, instead of dragged before a magistrate and forced to +promise to bear her misery. + +"A pretty little tale," he thought, and he saw her floating in +shadowy water in pallor and beauty, and reconciliation with nature. +"Why see another day? I must die very soon, why not at once? +Thousands have grieved as I am grieving in this self-same place, have +asked the same sad questions. Sitting under these ancient walls young +men have dreamed as I am dreaming--no new thoughts are mine. For five +thousand years man has asked himself why he lives. Five thousand +years have changed the face of the world and the mind of man; no +thought has resisted the universal transformation of thought, save +that one thought--why live? Men change their gods, but one thought +floats immortal, unchastened by the teaching of any mortal gods. Why +see another day? why drink again the bitter cup of life when we may +drink the waters of oblivion?" + +He walked through Pump Court slowly, like a prisoner impeded by the +heavy chain, and at every step the death idea clanked in his brain. +All the windows were full of light, and he could hear women's voices. +In imagination he saw the young men sitting round the sparely +furnished rooms, law-books and broken chairs--smoking and drinking, +playing the piano, singing, thinking they were enjoying themselves. A +few years and all would be over for them as all was over now for him. +But never would they drink of life as he had drunk, he was the type +of that of which they were but imperfect and inconclusive figments. +Was he not the Don Juan and the poet--a sort of Byron doubled with +Byron's hero? But he was without genius; had he genius, genius would +force him to live. + +He considered how far in his pessimism he was a representative of the +century. He thought how much better he would have done in another +age, and how out of sympathy he was with the utilitarian dullness of +the present time; how much more brilliant he would have been had he +lived at any other period of the Temple's history. Then he stopped to +study the style of the old staircase, the rough woodwork twisting up +the wall so narrowly, the great banisters full of shadow lighted by +the flickering lanterns. The yellowing colonnade--its beams and +overhanging fronts were also full of suggestion, and the suggestion +of old time was enforced by the sign-board of a wig-maker. + +"The last of an ancient industry," thought Mike. "The wig is +representative of the seventeenth as the silk hat is of the +nineteenth century. I wonder why I am so strongly fascinated with the +seventeenth century?--I, a peasant; atavism, I suppose; my family +were not always peasants." + +Turning from the old Latin inscription he viewed the church, so +evocative in its fortress form of an earlier and more romantic +century. The clocks were striking one, two hours would bring the dawn +close again upon the verge of the world. Mike trembled and thought +how he might escape. The beauty of the cone of the church was +outlined upon the sky, and he dreamed, as he walked round the +shadow-filled porch, full of figures in prayer and figures holding +scrolls, of the white-robed knights, their red crosses, their long +swords, and their banner called Beauseant. He dreamed himself Grand +Master of the Order; saw himself in chain armour charging the +Saracen. The story of the terrible idol with the golden eyes, the +secret rites, the knight led from the penitential cell and buried at +daybreak, the execution of the Grand Master at the stake, turned in +his head fitfully; cloud-shapes that passed, floating, changing +incessantly, suddenly disappearing, leaving him again Mike Fletcher, +a strained, agonized soul of our time, haunted and hunted by an idea, +overpowered by an idea as a wolf by a hound. + +His life had been from the first a series of attempts to escape from +the idea. His loves, his poetry, his restlessness were all derivative +from this one idea. Among those whose brain plays a part in their +existence there is a life idea, and this idea governs them and leads +them to a certain and predestined end; and all struggles with it are +delusions. A life idea in the higher classes of mind, a life instinct +in the lower. It were almost idle to differentiate between them, both +may be included under the generic title of the soul, and the drama +involved in such conflict is always of the highest interest, for if +we do not read the story of our own soul, we read in each the story +of a soul that might have been ours, and that passed very near to us; +and who reading of Mike's torment is fortunate enough to say, "I know +nothing of what is written there." + +His steps echoed hollow on the old pavement. Full of shadow the roofs +of the square church swept across the sky; the triple lancet windows +caught a little light from the gaslight on the buildings; and he +wondered what was the meaning of the little gold lamb standing over +one doorway, and then remembered that in various forms the same +symbolic lamb is repeated through the Temple. He passed under the +dining-hall by the tunnel, and roamed through the spaces beneath the +plane-trees of King's Bench Walk. "My friends think my life was a +perfect gift, but a burning cinder was placed in my breast, and time +has blown it into flame." + +In the soporific scent of the lilies and the stocks, the night +drowsed in the darkness of the garden; Mike unlocked the gate and +passed into the shadows, and hypnotized by the heavenly spaces, in +which there were a few stars; by the earth and the many emanations of +the earth; by the darkness which covered all things, hiding the +little miseries of human existence, he threw himself upon the sward +crying, "Oh, take me, mother, hide me in thy infinite bosom, give me +forgetfulness of the day. Take and hide me away. We leave behind a +corpse that men will touch. Sooner would I give myself to the filthy +beaks of vultures, than to their more defiling sympathies. Why were +we born? Why are we taught to love our parents? It is they whom we +should hate, for it was they who, careless of our sufferings, +inflicted upon us the evil of life. We are taught to love them +because the world is mad; there is nothing but madness in the world. +Night, do not leave me; I cannot bear with the day. Ah, the day will +come; nothing can retard the coming of the day, and I can bear no +longer with the day." + +Hearing footsteps, he sprang to his feet, and walking in the +direction whence the sound came, he found himself face to face with +the policeman. + +"Not able to get to sleep sir?" + +"No, I couldn't sleep, the night is so hot; I shall sleep presently +though." + +They had not walked far before the officer, pointing to one of the +gables of the Temple gardens, said-- + +"That's where Mr. Williamson threw himself over, sir; he got out on +the roof, on to the highest point he could reach." + +"He wanted," said Mike, "to do the job effectually." + +"He did so; he made a hole two feet deep." + +"They put him into a deeper one." + +The officer laughed; and they walked round the gardens, passing by +the Embankment to King's Bench Walk. Opening the gate there, the +policeman asked Mike if he were coming out, but he said he would +return across the gardens, and let himself out by the opposite gate. +He walked, thinking of what he and the policeman had been saying--the +proposed reduction in the rents of the chambers, the late innovation +of throwing open the gardens to the poor children of the +neighbourhood, and it was not until he stooped to unlock the gate +that he remembered that he was alive. + +Then the voice that had been counselling him so long, drew strangely +near, and said "Die." The voice sounded strangely clear in the void +of a great brain silence. Earth ties seemed severed, and then quite +naturally, without any effort of mind, he went up-stairs to shoot +himself. No effort of mind was needed, it seemed the natural and +inevitable course for him to take, and he was only conscious of a +certain faint surprise that he had so long delayed. There was no +trace of fear or doubt in him; he walked up the long staircase +without embarrassment, and in a heavenly calm of mind hastened to put +his project into execution, dreading the passing of the happiness of +his present mood, and the return of the fever of living. He stopped +for a moment to see himself in the glass, and looking into the depths +of his eyes, he strove to read there the story of his triumph over +life. Then seeing the disorder of his dress, and the untidy +appearance of his unshaven chin, he smiled, conceiving in that moment +that it would be consistent to make as careful a toilette to meet +death, as he had often done to meet a love. + +He was anxious for the world to know that it was not after a drunken +bout he had shot himself, but after philosophic deliberation and +judicious reflection. And he could far better affirm his state of +mind by his dress, than by any written words. Lying on the bed, +cleanly shaved, wearing evening clothes, silk socks, patent leather +shoes and white gloves? No, that would be vulgar, and all taint of +vulgarity must be avoided. He must represent, even in a state of +symbol, the young man, who having drunk of life to repletion, and +finding that he can but repeat the same love draughts, says: "It is +far too great a bore, I will go," and he goes out of life just as +if he were leaving a fashionable _soirée_ in Piccadilly. That was +exactly the impression he wished to convey. Yes, he would have out +his opera hat and light overcoat. He was a little uncertain whether +he should die in the night, or wait for the day, and considering the +question, he lathered his face. "Curious it is," he thought, "I never +was so happy, so joyous in life before.... These walls, all that I +see, will in a few minutes disappear; it is this I, this Ego, which +creates them; in destroying myself I destroy the world.... How hard +this beard is! I never can shave properly without hot water!" + +As he pulled on a pair of silk socks and tied his white necktie he +thought of Lady Helen. Going to bed was not a bad notion--particularly +for a woman, and a woman in love, but it would be ridiculous for a +man. He looked at himself again in the long glass in the door of his +carved mahogany wardrobe, and was pleased to see that, although a +little jaded and worn, he was still handsome. Having brushed his hair +carefully, he looked out the revolver; he did not remember exactly +where he had put it, and in turning out his drawers he came upon a +bundle of old letters. They were mostly from Frank and Lizzie, and in +recalling old times they reminded him that if he died without making +a will, his property would go to the Crown. It displeased him to +think that his property should pass away in so impersonal a manner. +But his mind was now full of death; like a gourmet he longed to taste +of the dark fruit of oblivion; and the delay involved in making out +a will exasperated him, and it was with difficulty that he conquered +his selfishness and sat down to write. Fretful he threw aside the +pen; this little delay had destroyed all his happiness. To dispose of +his property in money and land would take some time; the day would +surprise him still in the world. After a few moments' reflection he +decided that he would leave Belthorpe Park to Frank Escott. + +"I dare say I'm doing him an injury ... but no, there's no time for +paradoxes--I'll leave Belthorpe Park to Frank Escott. The aristocrat +shall not return to the people. But to whom shall I leave all my +money in the funds? To a hospital? No. To a woman? I must leave it to +a woman; I hardly know any one but women; but to whom? Suppose I were +to leave it to be divided among those who could advance irrefutable +proof that they had loved me! What a throwing over of reputation +there would be." Then a sudden memory of the girl by whom he had had +a child sprang upon him like something out of the dark. He wondered +for a moment what the child was like, and then he wrote leaving the +interest of his money to her, until his son, the child born in such +a year--he had some difficulty in fixing the date--came of age. She +should retain the use of the interest of twelve thousand pounds, and +at her death that sum should revert to the said child born in ----, +and if the said child were not living, his mother should become +possessor of the entire monies now invested in funds, to do with as +she pleased. + +"That will do," he thought; "I dare say it isn't very legal, but it +is common sense and will be difficult to upset. Yes, and I will leave +all my books and furniture in Temple Gardens to Frank; I don't care +much about the fellow, but I had better leave it to him. And now, +what about witnesses? The policemen will do." + +He found one in King's Bench Walk, another he met a little further +on, talking to a belated harlot, whom he willingly relinquished on +being invited to drink. Mike led the way at a run up the high steps, +the burly officers followed more leisurely. + +"Come in," he cried, and they advanced into the room, their helmets +in their hands. "What will you take, whiskey or brandy?" + +After some indecision both decided, as Mike knew they would, for the +former beverage. He offered them soda-water; but they preferred a +little plain water, and drank to his very good health. They were, as +before, garrulous to excess. Mike listened for some few minutes, so +as to avoid suspicion, and then said-- + +"Oh, by the way, I wrote out my will a night or two ago--not that I +want to die yet, but one never knows. Would you mind witnessing it?" + +The policemen saw no objection; in a few moments the thing was done, +and they retired bowing, and the door closed on solitude and death. + +Mike lay back in his chair reading the document. The fumes of the +whiskey he had drunk obscured his sense of purpose, and he allowed +his thoughts to wander; his eyes closed and he dozed, his head leaned +a little on one side. He dreamed, or rather he thought, for it was +hardly sleep, of the dear good women who had loved him; and he mused +over his folly in not taking one to wife and accepting life in its +plain naturalness. + +Then as sleep deepened the dream changed, becoming hyperbolical and +fantastic, until he saw himself descending into hell. The numerous +women he had betrayed awaited him and pursued him with blazing lamps +of intense and blinding electric fire. And he fled from the light, +seeking darkness like some nocturnal animal. His head was leaned +slightly on one side, the thin, weary face lying in the shadow of the +chair, and the hair that fell thickly on the moist forehead. As he +dreamed the sky grew ghastly as the dead. The night crouched as if in +terror along the edges of the river, beneath the bridges and among +the masonry and the barges aground, and in the ebbing water a lurid +reflection trailed ominously. And as the day ascended, the lamps +dwindled from red to white, and beyond the dark night of the river, +spires appeared upon faint roseate gray. + +Then, as the sparrows commenced their shrilling in the garden, +another veil was lifted, and angles and shapes on the warehouses +appeared, and boats laden with newly-cut planks; then the lights that +seemed to lead along the river turned short over the iron girders, +and in white whiffs a train sped across the bridge. The clouds lifted +and cleared away, changing from dark gray to undecided purple, and in +the blank silver of the east, the spaces flushed, and the dawn +appeared in her first veil of rose. And as if the light had +penetrated and moved the brain, the lips murmured-- + +"False fascination in which we are blinded. Night! shelter and save +me from the day, and in thy opiate arms bear me across the world." + +He turned uneasily as if he were about to awake, and then his eyes +opened and he gazed on the spectral pallor of the dawn in the +windows, his brain rousing from dreams slowly into comprehension of +the change that had come. Then collecting his thoughts he rose and +stood facing the dawn. He stood for a moment like one in combat, and +then like one overwhelmed retreated through the folding doors, +seeking his pistol. + +"Another day begun! Twelve more hours of consciousness and horror! I +must go!" + + * * * * * * + +None had heard the report of the pistol, and while the pomp of gold +and crimson faded, and the sun rose into the blueness of morning, +Mike lay still grasping the revolver, the blood flowing down his +face, where he had fallen across the low bed, raised upon lions' +claws and hung with heavy curtains. Receiving no answer, the servant +had opened the door. A look of horror passed over her face; she +lifted his hand, let it fall, and burst into tears. + +And all the while the sun rose, bringing work and sorrow to every +living thing--filling the fields with labourers, filling the streets +with clerks and journalists, authors and actors. And it was in the +morning hubbub of the Strand that Lizzie Escott stopped to speak to +Lottie, who was going to rehearsal. + +"How exactly like his father he is growing," she said, speaking of +the little boy by the actress's side. "Frank saw Mike in Piccadilly +about a month ago; he promised to come and see us, but he never did." + +"Swine.... He never could keep a promise. I hope Willy won't grow up +like him." + +"Who are you talking of, mother? of father?" + +The women exchanged glances. + +"He's as sharp as a needle. And to think that that beast never gave +me but one hundred pounds, and it was only an accident I got that--we +happened to meet in the underground railway. He took a ticket for +me--you know he could always be very nice if he liked; he told me a +lady had left him five thousand a year, and if I wanted any money I +had only to ask him for it. I asked him if he wouldn't like to see +the child, and he said I mustn't be beastly; I never quite knew what +he meant; but I know he thought it funny, for he laughed a great +deal, and I got into such a rage. I said I didn't want his dirty +money, and got out at the next station. He sent me a hundred pounds +next day. I haven't heard of him since, and don't want to." + +"Suicide of a poet in the Temple!" shouted a little boy. + +"I wonder who that is," said Lizzie. + +"Mike used to live in the Temple," said Lottie. + +The women read the reporter's account of the event, and then Lottie +said-- + +"Isn't it awful! I wonder what he has done with his money?" + +"You may be sure he hasn't thought of us. He ought to have thought of +Frank. Frank was very good to him in old times." + +"Well, I don't care what he has done with his money. I never cared +for any man but him. I could have forgiven him everything if he had +only thought of the child. I hope he has left him something." + +"Now I'm sure you are talking of father." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIKE FLETCHER*** + + +******* This file should be named 16730-8.txt or 16730-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/7/3/16730 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/16730-8.zip b/16730-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb0cb62 --- /dev/null +++ b/16730-8.zip diff --git a/16730.txt b/16730.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..adcaea1 --- /dev/null +++ b/16730.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10349 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mike Fletcher, by George (George Augustus) +Moore + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Mike Fletcher + A Novel + + +Author: George (George Augustus) Moore + + + +Release Date: September 21, 2005 [eBook #16730] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIKE FLETCHER*** + + +E-text prepared by Andrew Sly + + + +MIKE FLETCHER + +A Novel + +by + +GEORGE MOORE + +Author of +"A Mummer's Wife," "Confessions of a Young Man," Etc. + +1889 + + + + + + + + TO + MY BROTHER AUGUSTUS, + IN MEMORY OF MANY YEARS OF + MUTUAL ASPIRATION AND LABOUR + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Oaths, vociferations, and the slamming of cab-doors. The darkness was +decorated by the pink of a silk skirt, the crimson of an opera-cloak +vivid in the light of a carriage-lamp, with women's faces, necks, +and hair. The women sprang gaily from hansoms and pushed through the +swing-doors. It was Lubini's famous restaurant. Within the din was +deafening. + + "What cheer, 'Ria! + 'Ria's on the job," + +roared thirty throats, all faultlessly clothed in the purest linen. +They stood round a small bar, and two women and a boy endeavoured +to execute their constant orders for brandies-and-sodas. They were +shoulder to shoulder, and had to hold their liquor almost in each +other's faces. A man whose hat had been broken addressed reproaches +to a friend, who cursed him for interrupting his howling. + +Issued from this saloon a long narrow gallery set with a single line +of tables, now all occupied by reproaches to a friend, who cursed him +for interrupting his howling. + +Issued from this saloon a long narrow gallery set with a single line +of tables, now all occupied by supping courtesans and their men. An +odour of savouries, burnt cheese and vinegar met the nostrils, also +the sharp smell of a patchouli-scented handkerchief drawn quickly +from a bodice; and a young man protested energetically against a wild +duck which had been kept a few days over its time. Lubini, or Lubi, +as he was called by his pals, signed to the waiter, and deciding the +case in favour of the young man, he pulled a handful of silver out of +his pocket and offered to toss three lords, with whom he was +conversing, for drinks all round. + +"Feeling awfully bad, dear boy; haven't been what I could call sober +since Monday. Would you mind holding my liquor for me? I must go and +speak to that chappie." + +Since John Norton had come to live in London, his idea had been to +put his theory of life, which he had defined in his aphorism, "Let +the world be my monastery," into active practice. He did not +therefore refuse to accompany Mike Fletcher to restaurants and +music-halls, and was satisfied so long as he was allowed to +disassociate and isolate himself from the various women who clustered +about Mike. But this evening he viewed the courtesans with more +than the usual liberalism of mind, had even laughed loudly when one +fainted and was upheld by anxious friends, the most zealous and the +most intimate of whom bathed her white tragic face and listened in +alarm to her incoherent murmurings of "Mike darling, oh, Mike!" John +had uttered no word of protest until dear old Laura, who had never, +as Mike said, behaved badly to anybody, and had been loved by +everybody, sat down at their table, and the discussion turned on who +was likely to be Bessie's first sweetheart, Bessie being her youngest +sister whom she was "bringing out." Then he rose from the table and +wished Mike good-night; but Mike's liking for John was sincere, and +preferring his company to Laura's, he paid the bill and followed his +friend out of the restaurant; and as they walked home together he +listened to his grave and dignified admonitions, and though John +could not touch Mike's conscience, he always moved his sympathies. It +is the shallow and the insincere that inspire ridicule and contempt, +and even in the dissipations of the Temple, where he had come to +live, he had not failed to enforce respect for his convictions and +ideals. + +In the Temple John had made many acquaintances and friends, and about +him were found the contributors to the _Pilgrim_, a weekly newspaper +devoted to young men, their doings, their amusements, their +literature, and their art. The editor and proprietor of this organ +of amusement was Escott. His editorial work was principally done in +his chambers in Temple Gardens, where he lived with his friend, Mike +Fletcher. Of necessity the newspaper drew, like gravitation, art +and literature, but the revelling lords who assembled there were +a disintegrating influence, and made John Norton a sort of second +centre; and Harding and Thompson and others of various temperaments +and talents found their way to Pump Court. Like cuckoos, some men are +only really at home in the homes of others; others are always ill at +ease when taken out of the surroundings which they have composed to +their ideas and requirements; and John Norton was never really John +Norton except when, wrapped in his long dressing-gown and sitting in +his high canonical chair, he listened to Harding's paradoxes or +Thompson's sententious utterances. These artistic discussions--when +in the passion of the moment, all the cares of life were lost and +the soul battled in pure idea--were full of attraction and charm +for John, and he often thought he had never been so happy. And then +Harding's eyes would brighten, and his intelligence, eager as a wolf +prowling for food, ran to and fro, seeking and sniffing in all John's +interests and enthusiasms. He was at once fascinated by the scheme +for the pessimistic poem and charmed with the projected voyage in +Thibet and the book on the Great Lamas. + +One evening a discussion arose as to whether Goethe had stolen from +Schopenhauer, or Schopenhauer from Goethe, the comparison of man's +life with the sun "which seems to set to our earthly eyes, but which +in reality never sets, but shines on unceasingly." The conversation +came to a pause, and then Harding said-- + +"Mike spoke to me of a pessimistic poem he has in mind; did he ever +speak to you about it, Escott?" + +"I think he said something once, but he did not tell me what it was +about. He can speak of nothing now but a nun whom he has persuaded +to leave her convent. I had thought of having some articles written +about convents, and we went to Roehampton. While I was talking to my +cousin, who is at school there, he got into conversation with one of +the sisters. I don't know how he managed it, but he has persuaded her +to leave the convent, and she is coming to see him to-morrow." + +"You don't mean to say," cried John, "that he has persuaded one of +the nuns to leave the convent and to come and see him in Temple +Gardens? Such things should not be permitted. The Reverend Mother or +some one is in fault. That man has been the ruin of hundreds, if not +in fact, in thought. He brings an atmosphere of sensuality wherever +he goes, and all must breathe it; even the most virtuous are +contaminated. I have felt the pollution myself. If the woman is +seventy she will look pleased and coquette if he notices her. The +fascination is inexplicable!" + +"We all experience it, and that is why we like Mike," said Harding. +"I heard a lady, and a woman whose thoughts are not, I assure you, +given to straying in that direction, say that the first time she saw +him she hated him, but soon felt an influence like the fascination +the serpent exercises over the bird stealing over her. We find but +ourselves in all that we see, hear, and feel. The world is but our +idea. All that women have of goodness, sweetness, gentleness, they +keep for others. A woman would not speak to you of what is bad in +her, but she would to Mike; her sensuality is the side of her nature +which she shows him, be she Messalina or St. Theresa; the proportion, +not the principle is altered. And this is why Mike cannot believe in +virtue, and declares his incredulity to be founded on experience." + +"No doubt, no doubt!" + +Fresh brandies-and-sodas were poured out, fresh cigars were lighted, +and John descended the staircase and walked with his friends into +Pump Court, where they met Mike Fletcher. + +"What have you been talking about to-night?" he asked. + +"We wanted Norton to read us the pessimistic poem he is writing, but +he says it is in a too unfinished state. I told him you were at work +on one on the same subject. It is curious that you who differ so +absolutely on essentials should agree to sink your differences at the +very point at which you are most opposed to principle and practice." + +After a pause, Mike said-- + +"I suppose it was Schopenhauer's dislike of women that first +attracted you. He used to call women the short-legged race, that were +only admitted into society a hundred and fifty years ago." + +"Did he say that? Oh, how good, and how true! I never could think +a female figure as beautiful as a male. A male figure rises to the +head, and is a symbol of the intelligence; a woman's figure sinks to +the inferior parts of the body, and is expressive of generation." + +As he spoke his eyes followed the line and balance of Mike's neck and +shoulders, which showed at this moment upon a dark shadow falling +obliquely along an old wall. Soft, violet eyes in which tenderness +dwelt, and the strangely tall and lithe figure was emphasized by the +conventional pose--that pose of arm and thigh which the Greeks never +wearied of. Seeing him, the mind turned from the reserve of the +Christian world towards the frank enjoyment of the Pagan; and John's +solid, rhythmless form was as symbolic of dogma as Mike's of the +grace of Athens. + +As he ascended the stairs, having bidden his friends good-night, John +thought of the unfortunate nun whom that man had persuaded to leave +her convent, and he wondered if he were justified in living in such +close communion of thought with those whose lives were set in all +opposition to the principles on which he had staked his life's value. +He was thinking and writing the same thoughts as Fletcher. They were +swimming in the same waters; they were living the same life. + +Disturbed in mind he walked across the room, his spectacles +glimmering on his high nose, his dressing-gown floating. The +manuscript of the poems caught his eyes, and he turned over the +sheets, his hand trembling violently. And if they were antagonistic +to the spirit of his teaching, if not to the doctrine that the Church +in her eternal wisdom deemed healthful and wise, and conducive to the +best attainable morality and heaven? What a fearful responsibility +he was taking upon himself! He had learned in bitter experience that +he must seek salvation rather in elimination than in acceptance of +responsibilities. But his poems were all he deemed best in the world. +For a moment John stood face to face with, and he looked into the +eyes of, the Church. The dome of St. Peter's, a solitary pope, +cardinals, bishops, and priests. Oh! wonderful symbolization of man's +lust of eternal life! + +Must he renounce all his beliefs? The wish so dear to him that the +unspeakable spectacle of life might cease for ever; must he give +thanks for existence because it gave him a small chance of gaining +heaven? Then it were well to bring others into the world.... True it +is that the Church does not advance into such sloughs of optimism, +but how different is her teaching from that of the early fathers, and +how different is such dull optimism from the severe spirit of early +Christianity. + +Whither lay his duty? Must he burn the poems? Far better that they +should burn and he should save his soul from burning. A sudden vision +of hell, a realistic mediaeval hell full of black devils and ovens +came upon him, and he saw himself thrust into flame. It seemed to him +certain that his soul was lost--so certain, that the source of prayer +died within him and he fell prostrate. He cursed, with curses that +seared his soul as he uttered them, Harding, that cynical atheist, +who had striven to undermine his faith, and he shrank from thought of +Fletcher, that dirty voluptuary. + +He went out for long walks, hoping by exercise to throw off the gloom +and horror which were thickening in his brain. He sought vainly to +arrive at some certain opinions concerning his poems, and he weighed +every line, not now for cadence and colour, but with a view of +determining their ethical tendencies; and this poor torn soul stood +trembling on the verge of fearful abyss of unreason and doubt. + +And when he walked in the streets, London appeared a dismal, phantom +city. The tall houses vanishing in darkness, the unending noise, the +sudden and vague figures passing; some with unclean gaze, others in +mysterious haste, the courtesans springing from hansoms and entering +their restaurant, lurking prostitutes, jocular lads, and alleys +suggestive of crime. All and everything that is city fell violently +upon his mind, jarring it, and flashing over his brow all the horror +of delirium. His pace quickened, and he longed for wings to rise out +of the abominable labyrinth. + +At that moment a gable of a church rose against the sky. The gates +were open, and one passing through seemed to John like an angel, and +obeying the instinct which compels the hunted animal to seek refuge +in the earth, he entered, and threw himself on his knees. Relief +came, and the dread about his heart was loosened in the romantic +twilight. One poor woman knelt amid the chairs; presently she rose +and went to the confessional. He waited his turn, his eyes fixed on +the candles that burned in the dusky distance. + +"Father, forgive me, for I have sinned!" + +The priest, an old man of gray and shrivelled mien, settled his +cassock and mumbled some Latin. + +"I have come to ask your advice, father, rather than to confess the +sins I have committed in the last week. Since I have come to live in +London I have been drawn into the society of the dissolute and the +impure." + +"And you have found that your faith and your morals are being +weakened by association with these men?" + +"I have to thank God that I am uninfluenced by them. Their society +presents no attractions for me, but I am engaged in literary +pursuits, and most of the young men with whom I am brought in contact +lead unclean and unholy lives. I have striven, and have in some +measure succeeded, in enforcing respect for my ideals; never have +I countenanced indecent conversation, although perhaps I have not +always set as stern a face against it as I might have." + +"But you have never joined in it?" + +"Never. But, father, I am on the eve of the publication of a volume +of poems, and I am grievously afflicted with scruples lest their +tendency does not stand in agreement with the teaching of our holy +Church." + +"Do you fear their morality, my son?" + +"No, no!" said John in an agitated voice, which caused the old man to +raise his eyes and glance inquiringly at his penitent; "the poem I am +most fearful of is a philosophic poem based on Schopenhauer." + +"I did not catch the name." + +"Schopenhauer; if you are acquainted with his works, father, you will +appreciate my anxieties, and will see just where my difficulty lies." + +"I cannot say I can call to mind at this moment any exact idea of his +philosophy; does it include a denial of the existence of God?" + +"His teaching, I admit, is atheistic in its tendency, but I do not +follow him to his conclusions. A part of his theory--that of the +resignation of desire of life--seems to me not only reconcilable with +the traditions of the Church, but may really be said to have been +original and vital in early Christianity, however much it may have +been forgotten in these later centuries. Jesus Christ our Lord is the +perfect symbol of the denial of the will to live." + +"Jesus Christ our Lord died to save us from the consequences of the +sin of our first parents. He died of His own free-will, but we may +not live an hour more than is given to us to live, though we desire +it with our whole heart. We may be called away at any moment." + +John bent his head before the sublime stupidity of the priest. + +"I was anxious, father, to give you in a few words some account of +the philosophy which has been engaging my attention, so that you +might better understand my difficulties. Although Schopenhauer may be +wrong in his theory regarding the will, the conclusion he draws from +it, namely, that we may only find lasting peace in resignation, seems +to me well within the dogma of our holy Church." + +"It surprises me that he should hold such opinions, for if he does +not acknowledge a future state, the present must be everything, and +the gratification of the senses the only...." + +"I assure you, father, no one can be more opposed to materialism than +Schopenhauer. He holds the world we live in to be a mere +delusion--the veil of Maya." + +"I am afraid, my son, I cannot speak with any degree of certainty +about either of those authors, but I think it my duty to warn you +against inclining too willing an ear to the specious sophistries of +German philosophers. It would be well if you were to turn to our +Christian philosophers; our great cardinal--Cardinal Newman--has over +and over again refuted the enemies of the Church. I have forgotten +the name." + +"Schopenhauer." + +"Now I will give you absolution." + +The burlesque into which his confession had drifted awakened new +terrors in John and sensations of sacrilege. He listened devoutly to +the prattle of the priest, and to crush the rebellious spirit in him +he promised to submit his poems; and he did not allow himself to +think the old man incapable of understanding them. But he knew he +would not submit those poems, and turning from the degradation he +faced a command which had suddenly come upon him. A great battle +raged; and growing at every moment less conscious of all save his +soul's salvation, he walked through the streets, his stick held +forward like a church candle. + +He walked through the city, seeing it not, and hearing all cruel +voices dying to one--this: "I can only attain salvation by the +elimination of all responsibilities. There is therefore but one +course to adopt." Decision came upon him like the surgeon's knife. It +was in the cold darkness of his rooms in Pump Court. He raised his +face, deadly pale, from his hands; but gradually it went aflame with +the joy and rapture of sacrifice, and taking his manuscript, he +lighted it in the gas. He held it for a few moments till it was well +on fire, and then threw it all blazing under the grate. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +An odour of spirits evaporated in the warm winds of May which came +through the open window. The rich velvet sofa of early English design +was littered with proofs and copies of the _Pilgrim_, and the stamped +velvet was two shades richer in tone than the pale dead-red of the +floorcloth. Small pictures in light frames harmonized with a green +paper of long interlacing leaves. On the right, the grand piano and +the slender brass lamps; and the impression of refinement and taste +was continued, for between the blue chintz curtains the river lay +soft as a picture of old Venice. The beauty of the water, full of +the shadows of hay and sails, many forms of chimneys, wharfs, and +warehouses, made panoramic and picturesque by the motion of the great +hay-boats, were surely wanted for the windows of this beautiful +apartment. + +Mike and Frank stood facing the view, and talked of Lily Young, whom +Mike was momentarily expecting. + +"You know as much about it as I do. It was only just at the end that +you spoke to your cousin and I got in a few words." + +"What did you say?" + +"What could I say? Something to the effect that the convent must be a +very happy home." + +"How did you know she cared for you?" + +"I always know that. The second time we went there she told me she +was going to leave the convent. I asked her what had decided her to +take that step, and she looked at me--that thirsting look which women +cannot repress. I said I hoped I should see her when she came to +London; she said she hoped so too. Then I knew it was all right. I +pressed her hand, and when we went again I said she would find a +letter waiting for her at the post-office. Somehow she got the letter +sooner than I expected, and wrote to say she'd come here if she +could. Here is the letter. But will she come?" + +"Even if she does, I don't see what good it will do you; it isn't as +if you were really in love with her." + +"I believe I am in love; it sounds rather awful, doesn't it? but she +is wondrous sweet. I want to be true to her. I want to live for her. +I'm not half so bad as you think I am. I have often tried to be +constant, and now I mean to be. This ceaseless desire of change is +very stupid, and it leads to nothing. I'm sick of change, and would +think of none but her. You have no idea how I have altered since I +have seen her. I used to desire all women. I wrote a ballade the +other day on the women of two centuries hence. Is it not shocking +to think that we shall lie mouldering in our graves while women are +dancing and kissing? They will not even know that I lived and was +loved. It will not occur to them to say as they undress of an +evening, 'Were he alive to-day we might love him.'" + + + THE BALLADE OF DON JUAN DEAD + + My days for singing and loving are over, + And stark I lie in my narrow bed, + I care not at all if roses cover, + Or if above me the snow is spread; + I am weary of dreaming of my sweet dead, + All gone like me unto common clay. + Life's bowers are full of love's fair fray, + Of piercing kisses and subtle snares; + So gallants are conquered, ah, well away!-- + My love was stronger and fiercer than theirs. + + O happy moths that now flit and hover + From the blossom of white to the blossom of red, + Take heed, for I was a lordly lover + Till the little day of my life had sped; + As straight as a pine-tree, a golden head, + And eyes as blue as an austral bay. + Ladies, when loosing your evening array, + Reflect, had you lived in my years, my prayers + Might have won you from weakly lovers away-- + My love was stronger and fiercer than theirs. + + Through the song of the thrush and the pipe of the plover + Sweet voices come down through the binding lead; + O queens that every age must discover + For men, that man's delight may be fed; + Oh, sister queens to the queens I wed. + For the space of a year, a month, a day, + No thirst but mine could your thirst allay; + And oh, for an hour of life, my dears, + To kiss you, to laugh at your lovers' dismay-- + My love was stronger and fiercer than theirs. + + + ENVOI + Prince was I ever of festival gay, + And time never silvered my locks with gray; + The love of your lovers is as hope that despairs, + So think of me sometimes, dear ladies, I pray-- + My love was stronger and fiercer than theirs. + + +"It is like all your poetry--merely meretricious glitter; there is no +heart in it. That a man should like to have a nice mistress, a girl +he is really fond of, is simple enough, but lamentation over the +limbo of unborn loveliness is, to my mind, sheer nonsense." + +Mike laughed. + +"Of course it is silly, but I cannot alter it; it is the sex and not +any individual woman that attracts me. I enter a ball-room and I see +one, one whom I have never seen before, and I say, 'It is she whom I +have sought, I can love her.' I am always disappointed, but hope is +born again in every fresh face. Women are so common when they have +loved you." + +Startled by his words, Mike strove to measure the thought. + +"I can see nothing interesting in the fact that it is natural to you +to behave badly to every woman who gives you a chance of deceiving +her. That's what it amounts to. At the end of a week you'll tire of +this new girl as you did of the others. I think it a great shame. It +isn't gentlemanly." + +Mike winced at the word "gentlemanly." For a moment he thought of +resentment, but his natural amiability predominated, and he said-- + +"I hope not. I really do think I can love this one; she isn't like +the others. Besides, I shall be much happier. There is, I know, a +great sweetness in constancy. I long for this sweetness." Seeing by +Frank's face that he was still angry, he pursued his thoughts in the +line which he fancied would be most agreeable; he did so without +violence to his feelings. It was as natural to him to think one way +as another. Mike's sycophancy was so innate that it did not appear, +and was therefore almost invariably successful. "I have been the +lover of scores of women, but I never loved one. I have always hoped +to love; it is love that I seek. I find love-tokens and I do not know +who were the givers. I have possessed nothing but the flesh, and I +have always looked beyond the flesh. I never sought a woman for her +beauty. I dreamed of a companion, one who would share each thought; +I have dreamed of a woman to whom I could bring my poetry, who could +comprehend all sorrows, and with whom I might deplore the sadness of +life until we forget it was sad, and I have been given some more or +less imperfect flesh." + +"I," said Frank, "don't care a rap for your blue-stockings. I like a +girl to look pretty and sweet in a muslin dress, her hair with the +sun on it slipping over her shoulders, a large hat throwing a shadow +over the garden of her face. I like her to come and sit on my knee in +the twilight before dinner, to come behind me when I am working and +put her hand on my forehead, saying, 'Poor old man, you are tired!'" + +"And you could love one girl all your life--Lizzie Baker, for +instance; and you could give up all women for one, and never wander +again free to gather?" + +"It is always the same thing." + +"No, that is just what it is not. The last one was thin, this one +is fat; the last one was tall, this one is tiny. The last one was +stupid, this one is witty. Some men seek the source of the Nile, I +the lace of a bodice. A new love is a voyage of discovery. What is +her furniture like? What will she say? What are her opinions of love? +But when you have been a woman's lover a month you know her morally +and physically. Society is based on the family. The family alone +survives, it floats like an ark over every raging flood. But you +may understand without being able to accept, and I cannot accept, +although I understand and love family life. What promiscuity of body +and mind! The idea of never being alone fills me with horror to lose +that secret self, which, like a shy bird, flies out of sight in the +day, but is with you, oh, how intensely in the morning!" + +"Nothing pleases you so much as to be allowed to talk nonsense about +yourself." + +Mike laughed. + +"Let me have those opera-glasses. That woman sitting on the bench is +like her." + +The trees of the embankment waved along the laughing water, and in +scores the sparrows flitted across the sleek green sward. The porter +in his bright uniform, cocked hat, and brass buttons, explained the +way out to a woman. Her child wore a red sash and stooped to play +with a cat that came along the railings, its tail high in the air. + +"They know nothing of Lily Young," Mike said to himself; and knowing +the porter could not interfere, he wondered what he would think if he +knew all. "If she comes nothing can save her, she must and shall be +mine." + +Waterloo Bridge stood high above the river, level and lovely. Over +Charing Cross the brightness was full of spires and pinnacles, but +Southwark shore was lost in flat dimness. Then the sun glowed and +Westminster ascended tall and romantic, St. Thomas's and St. John's +floating in pale enchantment, and beneath the haze that heaved and +drifted, revealing coal-barges moored by the Southwark shore, lay a +sheet of gold. The candour of the morning laughed upon the river; +and there came a little steamer into the dazzling water, her smoke +heeling over, coiling and uncoiling like a snake, and casting +tremendous shadow--in her train a line of boats laden to the edge +with deal planks. Then the haze heaved and London disappeared, became +again a gray city, faint and far away--faint as spires seem in a +dream. Again and again the haze wreathed and went out, discovering +wharfs and gold inscriptions, uncovering barges aground upon the +purple slime of the Southwark shore, their yellow yards pointing like +birds with outstretched necks. + +The smoke of the little steamer curled and rolled over, now like a +great snake, now like a great bird hovering with a snake in its +talons; and the little steamer made pluckily for Blackfriars. Carts +and hansoms, vans and brewers' vans, all silhouetting. Trains slip +past, obliterating with white whiffs the delicate distances, the +perplexing distances that in London are delicate and perplexing as +a spider's web. Great hay-boats yellow in the sun, brown in the +shadow--great hay-boats came by, their sails scarce filled with the +light breeze; standing high, they sailed slowly and picturesquely, +with men thrown in all attitudes; somnolent in sunshine and pungent +odour--one only at work, wielding the great rudder. + +"Ah! if she would not disappoint me; if she would only come; I would +give my life not to be disappointed.... Three o'clock! She said she +would be here by three, if she came at all. I think I could love +her--I am sure of it; it would be impossible to weary of her--so +frail--a white blonde. She said she would come, I know she wanted +to.... This waiting is agony! Oh, if I were only good-looking! +Whatever power I have over women I have acquired; it was the desire +to please women that gave me whatever power I possess; I was as soft +as wax, and in the fingers of desire was modified and moulded. You +did not know me when I was a boy--I was hideous. It seemed to me +impossible that women could love men. Women seemed to me so beautiful +and desirable, men so hideous and revolting. Could they touch us +without a revulsion of feeling? Could they really desire us? That +is why I could not bear to give women money, nor a present of any +kind--no, not even a flower. If I did all my pleasure was gone; +I could not help thinking it was for what they got out of me that +they liked me. I longed to penetrate the mystery of women's life. +It seemed to me cruel that the differences between the sexes should +never be allowed to dwindle, but should be strictly maintained +through all the observances of life. There were beautiful beings +walking by us of whom we knew nothing--irreparably separated from +us. I wanted to be with this sex as a shadow is with its object." + +"You didn't find many opportunities of gratifying your tastes in +Cashel?" + +"No, indeed! Of course the women about the town were not to be +thought of." Unpleasant memories seemed to check his flow of words. + +Without noticing his embarrassment, Frank said-- + +"After France it must have been a horrible change to come to Ireland. +How old were you?" + +"About fourteen. I could not endure the place. Every day was so +appallingly like the last. There was nothing for me to do but to +dream; I dreamed of everything. I longed to get alone and let my +fancy wander--weaving tales of which I was the hero, building castles +of which I was the lord." + +"I remember always hearing of your riding and shooting. No one knew +of your literary tastes. I don't mind telling you that Mount Rorke +often suspected you of being a bit of a poacher." + +Mike laughed. + +"I believe I have knocked down a pheasant or two. I was an odd +mixture--half a man of action, half a man of dreams. My position in +Cashel was unbearable. My mother was a lady; my father--you know how +he had let himself down. You cannot imagine the yearnings of a poor +boy; you were brought up in all elegance and refinement. That +beautiful park! On afternoons I used to walk there, and I remember +the very moments I passed under the foliage of the great beeches and +lay down to dream. I used to wander to the outskirts of the wood as +near as I dared to the pleasure-grounds, and looking on the towers +strove to imagine the life there. The bitterest curses lie in the +hearts of young men who, understanding refinement and elegance, see +it for ever out of their reach. I used to watch the parade of dresses +passing on the summer lawns between the firs and flowering trees. +What graceful and noble words were spoken!--and that man walking into +the poetry of the laburnum gold, did he put his arm about her? And I +wondered what silken ankles moved beneath her skirts. My brain was on +fire, and I was crazed; I thought I should never hold a lady in my +arms. A lady! all the delicacy of silk and lace, high-heeled shoes, +and the scent and colour of hair that a _coiffeur_ has braided." + +"I think you are mad!" + +Mike laughed and continued-- + +"I was so when I was sixteen. There was a girl staying there. Her +hair was copper, and her flesh was pink and white. Her waist, you +could span it. I saw her walking one day on ..." + +"You must mean Lady Alice Hargood, a very tall girl?" + +"Yes; five feet seven, quite. I saw her walking on the terrace with +your uncle. Once she passed our house, and I smarted with shame of it +as of some restless wound, and for days I remembered I was little +better than a peasant. Originally we came, as you know, of good +English stock, but nothing is vital but the present. I cried and +cursed my existence, my father and the mother that bore me, and that +night I climbed out by my window and roved through the dark about the +castle so tall in the moonlight. The sky that night was like a soft +blue veil, and the trees were painted quite black upon it. I looked +for her window, and I imagined her sleeping with her copper hair +tossed in the moonlight, like an illustration in a volume of Shelley. + +"You remember the old wooden statue of a nymph that stood in the +sycamores at the end of the terraces; she was the first naked woman I +saw. I used to wander about her, sometimes at night, and I have often +climbed about and hung round those shoulders, and ever since I have +always met that breast of wood. You have been loved more truly; you +have been possessed of woman more thoroughly than I. Though I clasp a +woman in my arms, it is as if the Atlantic separated us. Did I never +tell you of my first love affair? That was the romance of the wood +nymph. One evening I climbed on the pedestal of my divinity, my cheek +was pale ..." + +"For God's sake, leave out the poetics, and come to the facts." + +"If you don't let me tell my story in my own way I won't tell it at +all. Out of my agony prayer rose to Alice, for now it pleased me to +fancy there was some likeness between this statue and Lady Alice. The +dome of leafage was sprinkled with the colour of the sunset, and as I +pressed my lips to the wooden statue, I heard dead leaves rustling +under a footstep. Holding the nymph with one arm, I turned and saw a +lady approaching. She asked me why I kissed the statue. I looked away +embarrassed, but she told me not to go, and she said, 'You are a +pretty boy.' I said I had never seen a woman so beautiful. Again +I grew ashamed, but the lady laughed. We stood talking in the +stillness. She said I had pretty hands, and asked me if I regretted +the nymph was not a real woman. She took my hands. I praised hers, +and then I grew frightened, for I knew she came from the castle; the +castle was to me what the Ark of the Covenant was to an Israelite. +She put her arm about me, and my fears departed in the thrilling of +an exquisite minute. She kissed me and said, 'Let us sit down.'" + +"I wonder who she was! What was her name? You can tell me." + +"No, I never mention names; besides, I am not certain she gave her +right name." + +"Are you sure she was staying at the castle? For if so, there would +be no use for her to conceal her name. You could easily have found +it out." + +"Oh, yes, she was staying at the castle; she talked about you all. +Don't you believe me?" + +"What, all about the nymph? I am certain you thought you ought to +have loved her, and if what Harding says is right, that there is more +truth in what we think than in what we do, I'm sure you might say +that you had been on a wedding-tour with one of the gargoyles." + +Mike laughed; and Frank did not suspect that he had annoyed him. +Mike's mother was a Frenchwoman, whom John Fletcher had met in Dublin +and had pressed into a sudden marriage. At the end of three years of +married life she had been forced to leave him, and strange were the +legends of the profanities of that bed. She fled one day, taking her +son with her. Fletcher did not even inquire where she had gone; and +when at her death Mike returned to Ireland, he found his father in a +small lodging-house playing the flute. Scarcely deigning to turn his +head, he said--"Oh! is that you, Mike?--sit down." + +At his father's death, Mike had sold the lease of the farm for three +hundred pounds, and with that sum and a volume of verse he went to +London. When he had published his poems he wrote two comedies. His +efforts to get them produced led him into various society. He was +naturally clever at cards, and one night he won three hundred pounds. +Journalism he had of course dabbled in--he was drawn towards it by +his eager impatient nature; he was drawn from it by his gluttonous +and artistic nature. Only ten pounds for an article, whereas a +successful "bridge" brought him ten times that amount, and he +revolted against the column of platitudes that the hours whelmed in +oblivion. There had been times, however, when he had been obliged to +look to journalism for daily bread. The _Spectator_, always open to +young talent, had published many of his poems; the _Saturday_ had +welcomed his paradoxes and strained eloquence; but whether he worked +or whether he idled he never wanted money. He was one of those men +who can always find five pounds in the streets of London. + +We meet Mike in his prime--in his twenty-ninth year--a man of various +capabilities, which an inveterate restlessness of temperament had +left undeveloped--a man of genius, diswrought with passion, +occasionally stricken with ambition. + +"Let me have those glasses. There she is! I am sure it is she--there, +leaning against the Embankment. Yes, yes, it is she. Look at her. I +should know her figure among a thousand--those frail shoulders, that +little waist; you could break her like a reed. How sweet she is on +that background of flowing water, boats, wharfs, and chimneys; it all +rises about her like a dream, and all is as faint upon the radiant +air as a dream upon happy sleep. So she is coming to see me. She will +keep her promise. I shall love her. I feel at last that love is near +me. Supposing I were to marry her?" + +"Why shouldn't you marry her if you love her? That is to say, if this +is more than one of your ordinary caprices, spiced by the fact that +its object is a nun." + +The men looked at each other for a moment doubtful. Then Mike +laughed. + +"I hope I don't love her too much, that is all. But perhaps she will +not come. Why is she standing there?" + +"I should laugh if she turned on her heel and walked away right under +your very nose." + +A cloud passed over Mike's face. + +"That's not possible," he said, and he raised the glass. "If I +thought there was any chance of that I should go down to see her." + +"You couldn't force her to come up. She seems to be admiring the +view." + +Then Lily left the embankment and turned towards the Temple. + +"She is coming!" Mike cried, and laying down the opera-glass he took +up the scent and squirted it about the room. "You won't make much +noise, like a good fellow, will you? I shall tell her I am here +alone." + +"I shall make no noise--I shall finish my article. I am expecting +Lizzie about four; I will slip out and meet her in the street. +Good-bye." + +Mike went to the head of the staircase, and looking down the +prodigious height, he waited. It occurred to him that if he fell, the +emparadised hour would be lost for ever. If she were to pass through +the Temple without stopping at No. 2! The sound of little feet and +the colour of a heliotrope skirt dispersed his fears, and he watched +her growing larger as she mounted each flight of stairs; when she +stopped to take breath, he thought of running down and carrying her +up in his arms, but he did not move, and she did not see him until +the last flight. + +"Here you are at last!" + +"I am afraid I have kept you waiting. I was not certain whether I +should come." + +"And you stopped to look at the view instead?" + +"Yes, but how did you know that?" + +"Ah! that's telling; come in." + +The girl went in shyly. + +"So this is where you live? How nicely you have arranged the room. +I never saw a room like this before. How different from the convent! +What would the nuns think if they saw me here? What strange +pictures!--those ballet-girls; they remind me of the pantomime. +Did you buy those pictures?" + +"No; they are wonderful, aren't they? A friend of mine bought them +in France." + +"Mr. Escott?" + +"Yes; I forgot you knew him--how stupid of me! Had it not been for +him I shouldn't have known you--I was thinking of something else." + +"Where is he now? I hope he will not return while I am here. You did +not tell him I was coming?" + +"Of course not; he is away in France." + +"And those portraits--it is always the same face." + +"They are portraits of a girl he is in love with." + +"Do you believe he is in love?" + +"Yes, rather; head over heels. What do you think of the painting?" + +Lily did not answer. She stood puzzled, striving to separate the +confused notions the room conveyed to her. She wore on her shoulders +a small black lace shawl and held a black silk parasol. She was very +slender, and her features were small and regular, and so white was +her face that the blue eyes seemed the only colour. There was, +however, about the cheek-bones just such tint as mellow as a white +rose. + +"How beautiful you are to-day. I knew you would be beautiful when you +discarded that shocking habit; but you are far more beautiful than I +thought. Let me kiss you." + +"No, you will make me regret that I came here. I wanted to see where +you lived, so that when I was away I could imagine you writing your +poems. Have you nothing more to show me? I want to see everything." + +"Yes, come, I will show you our dining-room. Mr. Escott often gives +dinner-parties. You must get your mother to bring you." + +"I should like to. But what a good idea to have book-cases in the +passages, they furnish the walls so well. And what are those rooms?" + +"Those belong to Escott. Here is where I sleep." + +"What a strange room!" discountenanced by the great Christ. She +turned her head. + +"That crucifix is a present from Frank. He bought it in Paris. It is +superb expression of the faith of the Middle Ages." + +"Old ages, I should think; it is all worm-eaten. And that Virgin? I +did not know you were so religious." + +"I do not believe in Christianity, but I think Christ is +picturesque." + +"Christ is very beautiful. When I prayed to Him an hour passed like +a little minute. It always seemed to me more natural to pray to Him +than to the Virgin Mary. But is that your bed?" + +Upon a trellis supported by lion's claws a feather bed was laid. The +sheets and pillows were covered with embroidered cloth, the gift of +some unhappy lady, and about the twisted columns heavy draperies hung +in apparent disorder. Lily sat down on the pouff ottoman. Mike took +two Venetian glasses, poured out some champagne, and sat at her feet. +She sipped the wine and nibbled a biscuit. + +"Tell me about the convent," he said. "That is now a thing over and +done." + +"Fortunately I was not professed; had I taken vows I could not have +broken them." + +"Why not? A nun cannot be kept imprisoned nowadays." + +"I should not have broken my vows." + +"It was I who saved you from them--if you had not fallen in love with +me ..." + +"I never said I had fallen in love with you; I liked you, that was +all." + +"But it was for me you left the convent?" + +"No; I had made up my mind to leave the convent long before I saw +you. So you thought it was love at first sight." + +"On my part, at least, it was love at first sight. How happy I am!--I +can scarcely believe I have got you. To have you here by me seems so +unreal, so impossible. I always loved you. I want to tell you about +myself. You were my ideal when I was a boy; I had already imagined +you; my poems were all addressed to you. My own sweet ideal that none +knew of but myself. You shall come and see me all the summer through, +in this room--our room. When will you come again?" + +"I shall never come again--it is time to go." + +"To go! Why, you haven't kissed me yet!" + +"I do not intend to kiss you." + +"How cruel of you! You say you will never come and see me again; you +break and destroy my dream." + +"How did you dream of me?" + +"I dreamed the world was buried in snow, barred with frost--that I +never went out, but sat here waiting for you to come. I dreamed that +you came to see me on regular days. I saw myself writing poems to +you, looking up to see the clock from time to time. Tea and wine were +ready, and the room was scented with your favourite perfume. Ting! +How the bell thrilled me, and with what precipitation I rushed to the +door! There I found you. What pleasure to lead you to the great fire, +to help you to take off your pelisse!" + +The girl looked at him, her eyes full of innocent wonderment. + +"How can you think of such things? It sounds like a fairy tale. And +if it were summer-time?" + +"Oh! if it were summer we should have roses in the room, and only a +falling rose-leaf should remind us of the imperceptible passing of +the hours. We should want no books, the picturesqueness of the river +would be enough. And holding your little palm in mine, so silken and +delicately moist, I would draw close to you." + +Knowing his skin was delicate to the touch, he took her arm in his +hand, but she drew her arm away, and there was incipient denial in +the withdrawal. His face clouded. But he had not yet made up his mind +how he should act, and to gain time to think, he said-- + +"Tell me why you thought of entering a convent?" + +"I was not happy at home, and the convent, with its prayers and +duties, seemed preferable. But it was not quite the same as I had +imagined, and I couldn't learn to forget that there was a world of +beauty, colour, and love." + +"You could not but think of the world of men that awaited you." + +"I only thought of Him." + +"And who was he?" + +"Ah! He was a very great saint, a greater saint than you'll ever be. +I fell in love with Him when I was quite a little girl." + +"What was his name?" + +"I am not going to tell you. It was for Him I went into the convent; +I was determined to be His bride in heaven. I used to read His life, +and think of Him all day long. I had a friend who was also in love, +but the reverend mother heard of our conversations, and we were +forbidden to speak any more of our saints." + +"Tell me his name? Was he anything like me?" + +"Well, perhaps there is a something in the eyes." + +The conversation dropped, and he laid his hand gently upon her foot. +Drawing it back she spilt the wine. + +"I must go." + +"No, dearest, you must not." + +She looked round, taking the room in one swift circular glance, her +eyes resting one moment on the crucifix. + +"This is cruel of you," he said. "I dreamed of you madly, and why do +you destroy my dream? What shall I do?--where shall I go?--how shall +I live if I don't get you?" + +"Men do not mind whom they love; even in the convent we knew that." + +"You seem to have known a good deal in that convent; I am not +astonished that you left it." + +"What do you mean?" She settled her shawl on her shoulders. + +"Merely this; you are in a young man's room alone, and I love you." + +"Love! You profane the word; loose me, I am going." + +"No, you are not going, you must remain." There was an occasional +nature in him, that of the vicious dog, and now it snarled. "If you +did not love me, you should not have come here," he said interposing, +getting between her and the door. + +Then she entreated him to let her go. He laughed at her; then +suddenly her face flamed with a passion he was unprepared for, and +her eyes danced with strange lights. Few words were spoken, only a +few ejaculatory phrases such as "How dare you?" "Let me go!" she +said, as she strove to wrench her arms from his grasp. She caught up +one of the glasses; but before she could throw it Mike seized her +hand; he could not take it from her, and unconscious of danger (for +if the glass broke both would be cut to the bone), she clenched it +with a force that seemed impossible in one so frail. Her rage was +like wildfire. Mike grew afraid, and preferring that the glass should +be thrown than it should break in his hand, he loosed his fingers. It +smashed against the opposite wall. He hoped that Frank had not heard; +that he had left the chambers. He seized the second glass. When she +raised her arm, Mike saw and heard the shattered window falling into +the court below. He anticipated the porter's steps on the staircase +and his knock at the door, and it was with an intense relief and +triumph that he saw the bottle strike the curtain and fall harmless. +He would win yet. Lily screamed piercingly. + +"No one will hear," he said, laughing hoarsely. + +She escaped him and she screamed three times. And now quite like a +mad woman, she snatched a light chair and rushed to the window. Her +frail frame shook, her thin face was swollen, and she seemed to have +lost control over her eyes. If she should die! If she should go mad! +Now really terrified, Mike prayed for forgiveness. She did not +answer; she stood clenching her hands, choking. + +"Sit down," he said, "drink something. You need not be afraid of me +now--do as you like, I am your servant. I will ask only one thing of +you--forgiveness. If you only knew!" + +"Don't speak to me!" she gasped, "don't!" + +"Forgive me, I beseech you; I love you better than all the world." + +"Don't touch me! How dare you? Oh! how dare you?" + +Mike watched her quivering. He saw she was sublime in her rage, and +torn with desire and regret he continued his pleadings. It was some +time before she spoke. + +"And it was for this," she said, "I left my convent, and it was of +him I used to dream! Oh! how bitter is my awakening!" + +She grasped one of the thin columns of the bed and her attitude +bespoke the revulsion of feeling that was passing in her soul; +beneath the heavy curtains she stood pale all over, thrown by the +shock of too coarse a reality. His perception of her innocence was a +goad to his appetite, and his despair augmented at losing her. Now, +as died the fulgurant rage that had supported her, and her normal +strength being exhausted, a sudden weakness intervened, and she +couldn't but allow Mike to lead her to a seat. + +"I am sorry; words cannot tell you how sorry I am. Why do you tremble +so? You are not going to faint, say--drink something." Hastily he +poured out some wine and held it to her lips. "I never was sorry +before; now I know what sorrow is--I am sorry, Lily. I am not ashamed +of my tears; look at them, and strive to understand. I never loved +till I saw you. Ah! that lily face, when I saw it beneath the white +veil, love leaped into my soul. Then I hated religion, and I longed +to scale the sky to dispossess Heaven of that which I held the one +sacred and desirable thing--you! My soul! I would have given it to +burn for ten thousand years for one kiss, one touch of these +snow-coloured hands. When I saw, or thought I saw, that you loved me, +I was God. I said on reading your sweet letter, 'My life shall not +pass without kissing at least once the lips of my chimera.'" + +Words and images rose in his mind without sensation or effort, and +experiencing the giddiness and exultation of the orator, he strove to +win her with eloquence. And all his magnetism was in his hands and +eyes--deep blue eyes full of fire and light were fixed upon +her--hands, soft yet powerful hands held hers, sometimes were +clenched on hers, and a voice which seemed his soul rose and fell, +striving to sting her with passionate sound; but she remained +absorbed in, and could not be drawn out of, angry thought. + +"Now you are with me," he said, "nearly mine; here I see you like a +picture that is mine. Around us is mighty London. I saved you from +God, am I to lose you to Man? This was the prospect that faced me, +that faces me, that drove me mad. All I did was to attempt to make +you mine. I hold you by so little--I could not bear the thought that +you might pass from me. A ship sails away, growing indistinct, and +then disappears in the shadows; in London a cab rattles, appears and +disappears behind other cabs, turns a corner, and is lost for ever. I +failed, but had I succeeded you would have come back to me; I failed, +is not that punishment enough? You will go from me; I shall not get +you--that is sorrow enough for me; do not refuse me forgiveness. Ah! +if you knew what it is to have sought love passionately, the high +hopes entertained, and then the depth of every deception, and now +the supreme grief of finding love and losing. Seeing love leave me +without leaving one flying feather for token, I strove to pluck +one--that is my crime. Go, since you must go, but do not go +unforgiving, lest perhaps you might regret." + +Lily did not cry. Her indignation was vented in broken phrases, the +meaning of which she did not seem to realize, and so jarred and +shaken were her nerves that without being aware of it her talk +branched into observations on her mother, her home life, the convent, +and the disappointments of childhood. So incoherently did she speak +that for a moment Mike feared her brain was affected, and his efforts +to lead her to speak of the present were fruitless. But suddenly, +waxing calm, her inner nature shining through the eyes like light +through porcelain, she said-- + +"I was wrong to come here, but I imagined men different. We know so +little of the world in the convent.... Ah, I should have stayed +there. It may be but a poor delusion, but it is better than such +wickedness." + +"But I love you." + +"Love me! ... You say you have sought love; we find love in +contemplation and desire of higher things. I am wanting in +experience, but I know that love lives in thought, and not in violent +passion; I know that a look from the loved one on entering a room, +a touch of a hand at most will suffice, and I should have been +satisfied to have seen your windows, and I should have gone away, my +heart stored with impressions of you, and I should have been happy +for weeks in the secret possession of such memories. So I have always +understood love; so we understood love in the convent." + +They were standing face to face in the faint twilight and scent of +the bedroom. Through the gauze blind the river floated past, +decorative and grand; the great hay-boats rose above the wharfs and +steamers; one lay in the sun's silver casting a black shadow; a barge +rowed by one man drifted round and round in the tide. + +"When I knelt in the choir I lifted my heart to the saint I loved. +How far was He from me? Millions of miles!--and yet He was very near. +I dreamed of meeting Him in heaven, of seeing Him come robed in white +with a palm in His hand, and then in a little darkness and dimness I +felt Him take me to His breast. I loved to read of the miracles He +performed, and one night I dreamed I saw Him in my cell--or was it +you?" + +All anger was gone from her face, and it reflected the play of her +fancy. "I used to pray to you to come down and speak to me." + +"And now," said Mike, smiling, "now that I have come to you, now that +I call you, now that I hold my arms to you--you the bride-elect--now +that the hour has come, shall I not possess you?" + +"Do you think you can gain love by clasping me to your bosom? My +love, though separated from me by a million miles, is nearer to me +than yours has ever been." + +"Did you not speak of me as the lover of your prayer, and you said +that in ecstasy the nuns--and indeed it must be so--exchange a +gibbeted saint for some ideal man? Give yourself; make this afternoon +memorable." + +"No; good-bye! Remember your promises. Come; I am going." + +"I must not lose you," he cried, drunk with her beauty and doubly +drunk with her sensuous idealism. "May I not even kiss you?" + +"Well, if you like--once, just here," she said, pointing where white +melted to faint rose. + +Mastered, he followed her down the long stairs; but when they passed +into the open air he felt he had lost her irrevocably. The river was +now tinted with setting light, the balustrade of Waterloo Bridge +showed like lace-work, the glass roofing of Charing Cross station was +golden, and each spire distinct upon the moveless blue. The splashing +of a steamer sounded strange upon his ears. The "Citizen" passed! She +was crowded with human beings, all apparently alike. Then the eye +separated them. An old lady making her way down the deck, a young man +in gray clothes, a red soldier leaning over the rail, the captain +walking on the bridge. + +Mike called a hansom; a few seconds more and she would pass from him +into London. He saw the horse's hooves, saw the cab appear and +disappear behind other cabs; it turned a corner, and she was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Seven hours had elapsed since he had parted from Lily Young, and +these seven hours he had spent in restaurants and music-halls, +seeking in dissipation surcease of sorrow and disappointment. He had +dined at Lubi's, and had gone on with Lord Muchross and Lord Snowdown +to the Royal, and they had returned in many hansoms and with many +courtesans to drink at Lubi's. But his heart was not in gaiety, and +feeling he could neither break a hat joyously nor allow his own to be +broken good-humouredly, nor even sympathize with Dicky, the driver, +who had not been sober since Monday, he turned and left the place. + +"This is why fellows marry," he said, when he returned home, and sat +smoking in the shadows--he had lighted only one lamp--depressed by +the loneliness of the apartment. And more than an hour passed before +he heard Frank's steps. Frank was in evening dress; he opened his +cigarette-case, lighted a cigarette, and sat down willing to be +amused. Mike told him the entire story with gestures and descriptive +touches; on the right was the bed with its curtains hanging superbly, +on the left the great hay-boats filling the window; and by insisting +on the cruelest aspects, he succeeded in rendering it almost +unbearable. But Frank had dined well, and as Lizzie had promised +to come to breakfast he was in excellent humour, and on the whole +relished the tale. He was duly impressed and interested by the +subtlety of the fancy which made Lily tell how she used to identify +her ideal lover while praying to Him, Him with the human ideal which +had led her from the cloister, and which she had come to seek in the +world. He was especially struck with, and he admired the conclusion +of, the story, for Mike had invented a dramatic and effective ending. + +"Well-nigh mad, drunk with her beauty and the sensuous charm of her +imagination, I threw my arms about her. I felt her limbs against +mine, and I said, 'I am mad for you; give yourself to me, and make +this afternoon memorable.' There was a faint smile of reply in her +eyes. They laughed gently, and she said, 'Well, perhaps I do love you +a little.'" + +Frank was deeply impressed by Mike's tact and judgement, and they +talked of women, discussing each shade of feminine morality through +the smoke of innumerable cigarettes; and after each epigram they +looked in each other's eyes astonished at their genius and +originality. Then Mike spoke of the paper and the articles that would +have to be written on the morrow. He promised to get to work early, +and they said good-night. + +When Frank left Southwick two years ago and pursued Lizzie Baker to +London, he had found her in straitened circumstances and unable to +obtain employment. The first night he took her out to dinner and +bought her a hat, on the second he bought her a gown, and soon after +she became his mistress. Henceforth his days were devoted to her; +they were seen together in all popular restaurants, and in the +theatres. One day she went to see some relations, and Frank had to +dine alone. He turned into Lubini's, but to his annoyance the only +table available was one which stood next where Mike Fletcher was +dining. "That fellow dining here," thought Frank, "when he ought to +be digging potatoes in Ireland." But the accident of the waiter +seeking for a newspaper forced him to say a few words, and Mike +talked so agreeably that at the end of dinner they went out together +and walked up and down, talking on journalism and women. + +Suddenly the last strand of Frank's repugnance to make a friend of +Mike broke, and he asked him to come up to his rooms and have a +drink. They remained talking till daybreak, and separated as friends +in the light of the empty town. Next day they dined together, and a +few days after Frank and Lizzie breakfasted with Mike at his +lodgings. But during the next month they saw very little of him, and +this pause in the course of dining and journalistic discussion, +indicating, as Frank thought it did, a coolness on Mike's part, +determined the relation of these two men. When they ran against each +other in the corridor of a theatre, Frank eagerly button-holed Mike, +and asked him why he had not been to dine at Lubini's, and not +suspecting that he dined there only when he was in funds, was +surprised at his evasive answers. Mistress and lover were equally +anxious to know why they had not been able to find him in any of the +usual haunts; he urged a press of work, but it transpired he was +harassed by creditors, and was looking out for rooms. Frank told +him he was thinking of moving into the Temple. + +"Lucky fellow! I wish I could afford to live there." + +"I wish you could.... The apartment I have in mind is too large for +me, you might take the half of it." + +Mike knew where his comforts lay, and he accepted his friend's offer. +There they founded, and there they edited, the _Pilgrim_, a weekly +sixpenny paper devoted to young men, their doings, their amusements, +their literature, and their art. Under their dual editorship this +journal had prospered; it now circulated five thousand a week, and +published twelve pages of advertisements. Frank, whose bent was +hospitality, was therefore able to entertain his friends as it +pleased him, and his rooms were daily and nightly filled with +revelling lords, comic vocalists, and chorus girls. Mike often craved +for other amusements and other society. Temple Gardens was but one +page in the book of life, and every page in that book was equally +interesting to him. He desired all amusements, to know all things, to +be loved by every one; and longing for new sensations of life, he +often escaped to the Cock tavern for a quiet dinner with some young +barristers, and a quiet smoke afterwards with them in their rooms. It +was there he had met John Norton. + +The _Pilgrim_ was composed of sixteen columns of paragraphs in which +society, art, and letters were dealt with--the form of expression +preferred being the most exaggerated. Indeed, the formula of +criticism that Mike and Frank, guided by Harding, had developed, was +to consider as worthless all that the world held in estimation, and +to laud as best all that world had agreed to discard. John Norton's +views regarding Latin literature had been adopted, and Virgil was +declared to be the great old bore of antiquity, and some three or +four quite unknown names, gathered amid the Fathers, were upon +occasion trailed in triumph with adjectives of praise. + +What painter of Madonnas does the world agree to consider as the +greatest? Raphael--Raphael was therefore decried as being scarcely +superior to Sir Frederick Leighton; and one of the early Italian +painters, Francesco Bianchi, whom Vasari exhumes in some three or +four lines, was praised as possessing a subtle and mysterious talent +very different indeed from the hesitating smile of La Jaconde. There +is a picture of the Holy Family by him in the Louvre, and of it +Harding wrote--"This canvas exhales for us the most delicious +emanations, sorrowful bewitchments, insidious sacrileges, and +troubled prayers." + +All institutions, especially the Royal Academy, St. Paul's Cathedral, +Drury Lane Theatre, and Eton College, were held to be the symbols of +man's earthiness, the bar-room and music-hall as certain proof of his +divine origin; actors were scorned and prize-fighters revered; the +genius of courtesans, the folly of education, and the poetry of +pantomime formed the themes on which the articles which made the +centre of the paper were written. Insolent letters were addressed to +eminent people, and a novel by Harding, the hero of which was a +butler and the heroine a cook, was in course of publication. + +Mike was about to begin a series of articles in this genial journal, +entitled _Lions of the Season_. His first lion was a young man who +had invented a pantomime, _Pierrot murders his Wife_, which he was +acting with success in fashionable drawing-rooms. A mute brings +Pierrot back more dead than alive from the cemetery, and throws him +in a chair. When Pierrot recovers he re-acts the murder before a +portrait of his wife--how he tied her down and tickled her to death. +Then he begins drinking, and finally sets fire to the curtains of the +bed and is burnt. + +It was the day before publishing day, and since breakfast the young +men had been drinking, smoking, telling tales, and writing +paragraphs; from time to time the page-boy brought in proofs, and +the narrators made pause till he had left the room. Frank continued +reading Mike's manuscript, now and then stopping to praise a +felicitous epithet. + +At last he said--"Harding, what do you think of this?--'The Sphynx is +representative of the grave and monumental genius of Egypt, the Faun +of the gracious genius of Rome, the Pierrot of the fantastic genius +of the Renaissance. And, in this one creation, I am not sure that +the seventeenth does not take the palm from the earlier centuries. +Pierrot!--there is music, there is poetry in the name. The soul of an +epoch lives in that name, evocative as it is of shadowy trees, lawny +spaces, brocade, pointed bodices, high heels and guitars. And in +expression how much more perfect is he than his ancestor, the Faun! +His animality is indicated without coarse or awkward symbolism; +without cloven hoof or hirsute ears--only a white face, a long white +dress with large white buttons, and a black skull-cap; and yet, +somehow, the effect is achieved. The great white creature is not +quite human--hereditary sin has not descended upon him; he is not +quite responsible for his acts.'" + +"I like the paragraph," said Harding; "you finish up, of course, with +the apotheosis of pantomimists, and announce him as one of the lions +of the season. Who are your other lions and lionesses?" + +"The others will be far better," said Mike. He took a cigarette from +a silver box on the table, and, speaking as he puffed at it, entered +into the explanation of his ideas. + +Mademoiselle D'Or, the _premiere danseuse_ who had just arrived from +Vienna, was to be the lioness of next week. Mike told how he would +translate into words the insidious poetry of the blossom-like skirt +that the pink body pierces like a stem, the beautiful springing, +the lifted arms, then the flight from the wings; the posturing, the +artificial smiles; this art a survival of Oriental tradition; this +art at once so carnal and so enthusiastically ideal. "A prize-fighter +will follow the _danseuse_. And I shall gloat in Gautier-like +cadence--if I can catch it--over each superb muscle and each splendid +development. But my best article will be on Kitty Carew. Since Laura +Bell and Mabel Grey our courtesans have been but a mediocre lot." + +"You must not say that in the _Pilgrim_--we should offend all our +friends," Harding said, and he poured himself out a brandy-and-soda. + +Mike laughed, and walking up and down the room, he continued-- + +"That it should be so is inexplicable, that it is so is certain; we +have not had since Mabel Grey died a courtesan whom a foreign prince, +passing London, would visit as a matter of course as he would visit +St. Paul's or Westminster Abbey; and yet London has advanced +enormously in all that constitutes wealth and civilization. In Paris, +as in ancient Greece, courtesans are rich, brilliant, and depraved; +here in London the women are poor, stupid, and almost virtuous. Kitty +is revolution. I know for a fact that she has had as much as L1000 +from a foreign potentate, and she spends in one day upon her +tiger-cat what would keep a poor family in affluence for a week. Nor +can she say half a dozen words without being witty. What do you think +of this? We were discussing the old question, if it were well for a +woman to have a sweetheart. Kitty said, 'London has given me +everything but that. I can always find a man who will give me five +and twenty guineas, but a sweetheart I can't find.'" + +Every pen stopped, and expectation was on every face. After a pause +Mike continued-- + +"Kitty said, 'In the first place he must please me, and I am very +difficult to please; then I must please him, and sufficiently for him +to give up his whole time to me. And he must not be poor, for +although he would not give me money, it would cost him several +hundreds a year to invite me to dinner and send me flowers. And where +am I to find this combination of qualities?' Can't you hear her +saying it, her sweet face like a tea-rose, those innocent blue eyes +all laughing with happiness? The great stockbroker, who has been with +her for the last ten years, settled fifty thousand pounds when he +first took her up. She was speaking to me about him the other day, +and when I said, 'Why didn't you leave him when the money was +settled?' she said, 'Oh no, I wouldn't do a dirty trick like that; +I contented myself simply by being unfaithful to him.'" + +"This is no doubt very clever, but if you put all you have told us +into your article, you'll certainly have the paper turned off the +book-stalls." + +The conversation paused. Every one finished his brandy-and-soda, and +the correction of proofs was continued in silence, interrupted only +by an occasional oath or a word of remonstrance from Frank, who +begged Drake, a huge-shouldered man, whose hand was never out of the +cigarette-box, not to drop the lighted ends on the carpet. Mike was +reading Harding's article. + +"I think we shall have a good number this week," said Mike. "But we +want a piece of verse. I wonder if you could get something from John +Norton. What do you think of Norton, Harding?" + +"He is one of the most interesting men I know. His pessimism, his +Catholicism, his yearning for ritual, his very genuine hatred of +women, it all fascinates me." + +"What do you think of that poem he told us of the other night?" + +"Intensely interesting; but he will never be able to complete it. A +man may be full of talent and yet be nothing of an artist; a man may +be far less clever than Norton, and with a subtler artistic sense. If +a seal had really something to say, I believe it would find a way of +saying it; but has John Norton really got any idea so overwhelmingly +new and personal that it would force a way of utterance where none +existed? The Christian creed with its tale of Mary must be of all +creeds most antipathetic to his natural instincts, he nevertheless +accepts it.... If you agitate a pool from different sides you must +stir up mud, and this is what occurs in Norton's brain; it is +agitated equally from different sides, and the result is mud." + +Mike looked at Harding inquiringly, for a moment wondered if the +novelist understood him as he seemed to understand Norton. + +A knock was heard, and Norton entered. His popularity was visible in +the pleasant smiles and words which greeted him. + +"You are just the man we want," cried Frank. "We want to publish one +of your poems in the paper this week." + +"I have burnt my poems," he answered, with something more of +sacerdotal tone and gesture than usual. + +All the scribblers looked up. "You don't mean to say seriously that +you have burnt your poems?" + +"Yes; but I do not care to discuss my reasons. You do not feel as I +do." + +"You mean to say that you have burnt _The Last Struggle_--the poem +you told us about the other night?" + +"Yes, I felt I could not reconcile its teaching, or I should say the +tendency of its teaching, to my religion. I do not regret--besides, I +had to do it; I felt I was going off my head. I should have gone mad. +I have been through agonies. I could not think. Thought and pain and +trouble were as one in my brain. I heard voices.... I had to do it. +And now a great calm has come. I feel much better." + +"You are a curious chap." + +Then at the end of a long silence John said, as if he wished to +change the conversation-- + +"Even though I did burn my pessimistic poem, the world will not go +without one. You are writing a poem on Schopenhauer's philosophy. +It is hard to associate pessimism with you." + +"Only because you take the ordinary view of the tendency of +pessimistic teaching," said Mike. "If you want a young and laughing +world, preach Schopenhauer at every street corner; if you want a +sober utilitarian world, preach Comte." + +"Doesn't much matter what the world is as long as it is not sober," +chuckled Platt, the paragraph-writing youth at the bottom of the +table. + +"Hold your tongue!" cried Drake, and he lighted another cigarette +preparatory to fixing his whole attention on the paradox that Mike +was about to enounce. + +"The optimist believes in the regeneration of the race, in its +ultimate perfectibility, the synthesis of humanity, the providential +idea, and the path of the future; he therefore puts on a shovel hat, +cries out against lust, and depreciates prostitution." + +"Oh, the brute!" chuckled the wizen youth, "without prostitutes and +public-houses! what a world to live in!" + +"The optimist counsels manual labour for all. The pessimist believes +that forgetfulness and nothingness is the whole of man. He says, 'I +defy the wisest of you to tell me why I am here, and being here, what +good is gained by my assisting to bring others here.' The pessimist +is therefore the gay Johnny, and the optimist is the melancholy +Johnny. The former drinks champagne and takes his 'tart' out to +dinner, the latter says that life is not intended to be happy +in--that there is plenty of time to rest when you are dead." + +John laughed loudly; but a moment after, reassuming his look of +admonition, he asked Mike to tell him about his poem. + +"The subject is astonishingly beautiful," said Mike; "I only speak of +the subject; no one, not even Victor Hugo or Shelley, ever conceived +a finer theme. But they had execution, I have only the idea. I +suppose the world to have ended; but ended, how? Man has at last +recognized that life is, in equal parts, misery and abomination, and +has resolved that it shall cease. The tide of passion has again +risen, and lashed by repression to tenfold fury, the shores of life +have again been strewn with new victims; but knowledge--calm, +will-less knowledge--has gradually invaded all hearts; and the +restless, shifting sea (which is passion) shrinks to its furthest +limits. + +"There have been Messiahs, there have been persecutions, but the Word +has been preached unintermittently. Crowds have gathered to listen +to the wild-eyed prophets. You see them on the desert promontories, +preaching that human life must cease; they call it a disgraceful +episode in the life of one of the meanest of the planets--you see +them hunted and tortured as were their ancestors, the Christians of +the reign of Diocletian. You see them entering cottage doors and +making converts in humble homes. The world, grown tired of vain +misery, accepts oblivion. + +"The rage and the seething of the sea is the image I select to +represent the struggle for life. The dawn is my image for the +diffusion and triumph of sufficient reason. In a couple of hundred +lines I have set my scene, and I begin. It is in the plains of +Normandy; of countless millions only two friends remain. One of them +is dying. As the stars recede he stretches his hand to his companion, +breathes once more, looking him in the face, joyous in the attainment +of final rest. A hole is scraped, and the last burial is achieved. +Then the man, a young beautiful man with the pallor of long vigils +and spiritual combat upon his face, arises. + +"The scene echoes strangely the asceticism that produced it. +Rose-garden and vineyard are gone; there are no fields, nor +hedgerows, nor gables seen picturesquely on a sky, human with smoke +mildly ascending. A broken wall that a great elm tears and rends, +startles the silence; apple-orchards spread no flowery snow, and the +familiar thrushes have deserted the moss-grown trees, in other times +their trees; and the virgin forest ceases only to make bleak place +for marish plains with lonely pools and stagnating streams, where +perchance a heron rises on blue and heavy wings. + +"All the beautiful colours the world had worn when she was man's +mistress are gone, and now, as if mourning for her lover and lord, +she is clad only in sombre raiment. Since her lord departed she bears +but scanty fruit, and since her lover left her, she that was glad has +grown morose; her joy seems to have died with his; and the feeling of +gloom is heightened, when at the sound of the man's footsteps a pack +of wild dogs escape from a ruin, where they have been sleeping, and +wake the forest with lugubrious yelps and barks. About the dismantled +porches no single rose--the survival of roses planted by some fair +woman's hand--remains to tell that man was once there--worked there +for his daily bread, seeking a goodness and truth in life which was +not his lot to attain. + +"There are few open spaces, and the man has to follow the tracks of +animals. Sometimes he comes upon a herd of horses feeding in a glade; +they turn and look upon him in a round-eyed surprise, and he sees +them galloping on the hill-sides, their manes and tails floating in +the wind. + +"Paris is covered with brushwood, and trees and wood from the shore +have torn away the bridges, of which only a few fragments remain. Dim +and desolate are those marshes now in the twilight shedding. + +"The river swirls through multitudinous ruins, lighted by a crescent +moon; clouds hurry and gather and bear away the day. The man stands +like a saint of old, who, on the last verge of the desert, turns and +smiles upon the world he conquered. + +"The great night collects and advances in shadow; and wandering +vapour, taking fire in the darkness, rolls, tumbling over and over +like fiery serpents, through loneliness and reeds. + +"But in the eternal sunshine of the South flowers have not become +extinct; winds have carried seeds hither and thither, and the earth +has waxed lovely, and the calm of the spiritual evenings of the +Adriatic descend upon eternal perfume and the songs of birds. Symbol +of pain or joy there is none, and the august silence is undisturbed +by tears. From rotting hangings in Venice rats run, and that idle +wave of palace-stairs laps in listless leisure the fallen glories of +Veronese. As it is with painters so it is with poets, and wolf cubs +tear the pages of the last _Divine Comedy_ in the world. Rome is his +great agony, her shameful history falls before his eyes like a +painted curtain. All the inner nature of life is revealed to him, and +he sees into the heart of things as did Christ in the Garden of +Gethsemane--Christ, that most perfect symbol of the denial of the +will to live; and, like Christ, he cries that the world may pass from +him. + +"But in resignation, hatred and horror vanish, and he muses again on +the more than human redemption, the great atonement that man has made +for his shameful life's history; and standing amid the orange and +almond trees, amid a profusion of bloom that the world seems to have +brought for thank-offering, amid an apparent and glorious victory of +inanimate nature, he falls down in worship of his race that had +freely surrendered all, knowing it to be nothing, and in surrender +had gained all. + +"In that moment of intense consciousness a cry breaks the stillness, +and searching among the marbles he finds a dying woman. Gathering +some fruit, he gives her to eat, and they walk together, she +considering him as saviour and lord, he wrapped in the contemplation +of the end. They are the end, and all paling fascination, which is +the world, is passing from them, and they are passing from it. And +the splendour of gold and red ascends and spreads--crown and raiment +of a world that has regained its primal beauty. + +"'We are alone,' the woman says. 'The world is ours; we are as king +and queen, and greater than any king or queen.' + +"Her dark olive skin changes about the neck like a fruit near to +ripen, and the large arms, curving deeply, fall from the shoulder in +superb indolences of movement, and the hair, varying from burnt-up +black to blue, curls like a fleece adown the shoulders. She is large +and strong, a fitting mother of man, supple in the joints as the +young panther that has just bounded into the thickets; and her rich +almond eyes, dark, and moon-like in their depth of mystery, are fixed +on him. Then he awakes to the danger of the enchantment; but she +pleads that they, the last of mankind, may remain watching over each +other till the end; and seeing his eyes flash, her heart rejoices. +And out of the glare of the moon they passed beneath the sycamores. +And listening to the fierce tune of the nightingales in the dusky +daylight there, temptation hisses like a serpent; and the woman +listens, and drawing herself about the man, she says-- + +"'The world is ours; let us make it ours for ever; let us give birth +to a new race more great and beautiful than that which is dead. Love +me, for I am love; all the dead beauties of the race are incarnate in +me. I am the type and epitome of all. Was the Venus we saw yesterday +among the myrtles more lovely than I?' + +"But he casts her from him, asking in despair (for he loves her) if +they are to renew the misery and abomination which it required all +the courage and all the wisdom of all the ages to subdue? He calls +names from love's most fearful chronicle--Cleopatra, Faustina, +Borgia. A little while and man's shameful life will no longer disturb +the silence of the heavens. But no perception of life's shame touches +the heart of the woman. 'I am love,' she cries again. 'Take me, and +make me the mother of men. In me are incarnate all the love songs of +the world. I am Beatrice; I am Juliet. I shall be all love to +you--Fair Rosamond and Queen Eleanor. I am the rose! I am the +nightingale!' + +"She follows him in all depths of the forests wherever he may go. In +the white morning he finds her kneeling by him, and in blue and rose +evening he sees her whiteness crouching in the brake. He has fled to +a last retreat in the hills where he thought she could not follow, +and after a long day of travel lies down. But she comes upon him in +his first sleep, and with amorous arms uplifted, and hair shed to the +knee, throws herself upon him. It is in the soft and sensual scent of +the honeysuckle. The bright lips strive, and for an instant his soul +turns sick with famine for the face; but only for an instant, and in +a supreme revulsion of feeling he beseeches her, crying that the +world may not end as it began, in blood. But she heeds him not, and +to save the generations he dashes her on the rocks. + +"Man began in bloodshed, in bloodshed he has ended. + +"Standing against the last tinge of purple, he gazes for a last time +upon the magnificence of a virgin world, seeing the tawny forms of +lions in the shadows, watching them drinking at the stream." + +"Adam and Eve at the end of the world," said Drake. "A very pretty +subject; but I distinctly object to an Eve with black hair. Eve and +golden hair have ever been considered inseparable things." + +"That's true," said Platt; "the moment my missis went wrong her hair +turned yellow." + +Mike joined in the jocularity, but at the first pause he asked Escott +what he thought of his poem. + +"I have only one fault to find. Does not the _denouement_ seem too +violent? Would it not be better if the man were to succeed in +escaping from her, and then vexed with scruples to return and find +her dead? What splendid lamentations over the body of the last +woman!--and as the man wanders beneath the waxing and waning moon he +hears nature lamenting the last woman. Mountains, rocks, forests, +speak to him only of her." + +"Yes, that would do.... But no--what am I saying? Such a conclusion +would be in exact contradiction to the philosophy of my poem. For it +is man's natural and inveterate stupidity (Schopenhauer calls it +Will) that forces man to live and continue his species. Reason is the +opposing force. As time goes on reason becomes more and more +complete, until at last it turns upon the will and denies it, like +the scorpion, which, if surrounded by a ring of fire, will turn and +sting itself to death. Were the man to escape, and returning find the +woman dead, it would not be reason but accident which put an end to +this ridiculous world." + +Seeing that attention was withdrawn from him Drake filled his pockets +with cigarettes, split a soda with Platt, and seized upon the +entrance of half a dozen young men as an excuse for ceasing to write +paragraphs. Although it had only struck six they were all in evening +dress. They were under thirty, and in them elegance and dissipation +were equally evident. Lord Muchross, a clean-shaven Johnnie, walked +at the head of the gang, assuming by virtue of his greater volubility +a sort of headship. Dicky, the driver, a stout commoner, spoke of +drink; and a languid blonde, Lord Snowdown, leaned against the +chimney-piece displaying a thin figure. The others took seats and +laughed whenever Lord Muchross spoke. + +"Here we are, old chappie, just in time to drink to the health of the +number. Ha, ha, ha! What damned libel have you in this week? Ha, ha!" + +"Awful bad head, a heavy day yesterday," said Dicky--"drunk blind." + +"Had to put him in a wheelbarrow, wheeled him into a greengrocer's +shop, put a carrot in his mouth, and rang the bell," shouted +Muchross. + +"Ha, ha, ha!" shouted the others. + +"Had a rippin' day all the same, didn't we, old Dicky? Went up the +river in Snowdown's launch. Had lunch by Tag's Island, went as far as +Datchet. There we met Dicky; he tooted us round by Staines. There we +got in a fresh team, galloped all the way to Houndslow. Laura brought +her sister. Kitty was with us. Made us die with a story she told us +of a fellow she was spoony on. Had to put him under the bed.... +Ghastly joke, dear boy!" + +Amid roars of laughter Dicky's voice was heard-- + +"She calls him Love's martyr; he nearly died of bronchitis, and +became a priest. Kitty swears she'll go to confession to him one of +these days." + +"By Jove, if she does I'll publish it in the _Pilgrim_." + +"Too late this week," Mike said to Frank. + +"We got to town by half past six, went round to the Cri. to have a +sherry-and-bitters, dined at the Royal, went on to the Pav., and on +with all the girls in hansoms, four in each, to Snowdown's." + +"See me dance the polka, dear boy," cried the languid lord, awaking +suddenly from his indolence, and as he pranced across the room most +of his drink went over Drake's neck; and amid oaths and laughter +Escott besought of the revellers to retire. + +"We are still four columns short, we must get on." And for an hour +and a half the scratching of the pens was only interrupted by the +striking of a match and an occasional damn. At six they adjourned to +the office. They walked along the Strand swinging their sticks, full +of consciousness of a day's work done. Drake and Platt, who had +avenged some private wrongs in their paragraphs, were disturbed by +the fear of libel; Harding gnawed the end of his moustache, and +reconsidered his attack on a contemporary writer, pointing his gibes +afresh. + +They trooped up-stairs, the door was thrown open. It was a small +office, and at the end of the partitioned space a clerk sat in front +of a ledger on a high stool, his face against the window. Lounging on +the counter, turning over the leaves of back numbers, they discussed +the advertisements. They stood up when Lady Helen entered. [Footnote: +See _A Modern Lover_.] She had come to speak to Frank about a poem, +and she only paused in her rapid visit to shake hands with Harding, +and she asked Mike if his poems would be published that season. + +The contributors to the _Pilgrim_ dined together on Wednesday, and +spent four shillings a head in an old English tavern, where unlimited +joint and vegetables could be obtained for half-a-crown. The +old-fashioned boxes into which the guests edged themselves had not +been removed, and about the mahogany bar, placed in the passage in +front of the proprietress's parlour, two dingy barmaids served actors +from the adjoining theatre with whisky-and-water. The contributors to +the _Pilgrim_ had selected a box, and were clamouring for food. +Smacking his lips, the head-waiter, an antiquity who cashed cheques +and told stories about Mr. Dickens and Mr. Thackeray, stopped in +front of this table. + +"Roast beef, very nice--a nice cut, sir; saddle of mutton just up." + +All decided for saddle of mutton. + +"Saddle of mutton, number three." + +Greasy and white the carver came, and as if the meat were a delight +the carver sliced it out. Some one remarked this. + +"That is nothing," said Thompson; "you should hear Hopkins grunting +as he cuts the venison on Tuesdays and Fridays, and how he sucks his +lips as he ladles out the gravy. We only enjoy a slice or two, +whereas his pleasure ends only with the haunch." + +The evening newspapers were caught up, glanced at, and abused as +worthless rags, and the editors covered with lively ridicule. + +The conversation turned on Boulogne, where Mike had loved many +solicitors' wives, and then on the impurity of the society girl and +the prurient purity of her creation--the "English" novel. + +"I believe that it is so," said Harding; "and in her immorality we +find the reason for all this bewildering outcry against the slightest +license in literature. Strange that in a manifestly impure age there +should be a national tendency towards chaste literature. I am not +sure that a moral literature does not of necessity imply much laxity +in practical morality. We seek in art what we do not find in +ourselves, and it would be true to nature to represent an unfortunate +woman delighting in reading of such purity as her own life daily +insulted and contradicted; and the novel is the rag in which this +leper age coquets before the mirror of its hypocrisy, rehearsing the +deception it would practise on future time." + +"You must consider the influence of impure literature upon young +people," said John. + +"No, no; the influence of a book is nothing; it is life that +influences and corrupts. I sent my story of a drunken woman to +Randall, and the next time I heard from him he wrote to say he had +married his mistress, and he knew she was a drunkard." + +"It is easy to prove that bad books don't do any harm; if they did, +by the same rule good books would do good, and the world would have +been converted long ago," said Frank. + +Harding thought how he might best appropriate the epigram, and when +the influence of the liberty lately acquired by girls had been +discussed--the right to go out shopping in the morning, to sit out +dances on dark stairs; in a word, the decadence and overthrow of the +chaperon--the conversation again turned on art. + +"It is very difficult," said Harding, "to be great as the old masters +were great. A man is great when every one is great. In the great ages +if you were not great you did not exist at all, but in these days +everything conspires to support the weak." + +Out of deference to John, who had worn for some time a very solid +look of disapproval, Mike ceased to discourse on half-hours passed on +staircases, and in summer-houses when the gardener had gone to +dinner, and he spoke about naturalistic novels and an exhibition of +pastels. + +"As time goes on, poetry, history, philosophy, will so multiply that +the day will come when the learned will not even know the names of +their predecessors. There is nothing that will not increase out of +all reckoning except the naturalistic novel. A man may write twenty +volumes of poetry, history, and philosophy, but a man will never be +born who will write more than two, at the most three, naturalistic +novels. The naturalistic novel is the essence of a phase of life +that the writer has lived in and assimilated. If you take into +consideration the difficulty of observing twice, of the time an +experience takes to ripen in you, you will easily understand +_a priori_ that the man will never be born who will write three +realistic novels." + +Coffee and cigars were ordered, and Harding extolled the charm and +grace of pastels. + +Thompson said--"I keep pastels for my hours of idleness--cowardly +hours, when I have no heart to struggle with nature, and may but +smile and kiss my hand to her at a distance. For dreaming I know +nothing like pastel; it is the painter's opium pipe.... Latour was +the greatest pastellist of the eighteenth century, and he never +attempted more than a drawing heightened with colour. But how +suggestive, how elegant, how well-bred!" + +Then in reply to some flattery on the personality of his art, +Thompson said, "It is strange, for I assure you no art was ever less +spontaneous than mine. What I do is the result of reflection and +study of the great masters; of inspiration, spontaneity, +temperament--temperament is the word--I know nothing. When I hear +people talk about temperament, it always seem to me like the strong +man in the fair, who straddles his legs, and asks some one to step +upon the palm of his hand." + +Drake joined in the discussion, and the chatter that came from this +enormous man was as small as his head, which sat like a pin's-head +above his shoulders. Platt drifted from the obscene into the +incomprehensible. The room was fast emptying, and the waiter +loitered, waiting to be paid. + +"We must be getting off," said Mike; "it is nearly eleven o'clock, +and we have still the best part of the paper to read through." + +"Don't be in such a damned hurry," said Frank, authoritatively. + +Harding bade them good-night at the door, and the editors walked down +Fleet Street. To pass up a rickety court to the printer's, or to go +through the stage-door to the stage, produced similar sensations +in Mike. The white-washed wall, the glare of the raw gas, the low +monotonous voice of the reading-boy, like one studying a part, or +perhaps like the murmur of the distant audience; the boy coming in +asking for "copy" or proof, like the call-boy, with his "Curtain's +going up, gentlemen." Is there not analogy between the preparation +of the paper that will be before the public in the morning, and the +preparation of the play that will be before its eyes in the evening? + +From the glass closet where they waited for the "pages," they could +see the compositors bending over the forms. The light lay upon a red +beard, a freckled neck, the crimson of the volutes of an ear. + +In the glass closet there were three wooden chairs, a table, and an +inkstand; on the shelf by the door a few books--the _London +Directory_, an _English Dictionary_, a _French Dictionary_--the +titles of the remaining books did not catch the eye. As they waited, +for no "pages" would be ready for them for some time, Mike glanced at +stray numbers of two trade journals. It seemed to him strange that +the same compositors who set up these papers should set up the +_Pilgrim_. + +Presently the "pages" began to come in, but long delays intervened, +and it transpired that some of the "copy" was not yet in type. Frank +grew weary, and he complained of headache, and asked Mike to see the +paper through for him. Mike thought Frank selfish, but there was no +help for it. He could not refuse, but must wait in the paraffin-like +smell of the ink, listening to the droning voice of the reading-boy. +If he could only get the proof of his poem he could kill time by +correcting it; but it could not be obtained. Two hours passed, and +he still sat watching the red beard of a compositor, and the crimson +volutes of an ear. At last the printer's devil, his short sleeves +rolled up, brought in a couple of pages. Mike read, following the +lines with his pen, correcting the literals, and he cursed when the +"devil" told him that ten more lines of copy were wanting to complete +page nine. What should he write? + +About two o'clock, holding her ball-skirts out of the dirt, a lady +entered. + +"How do you do, Emily?" said Mike. "Just fancy seeing you here, and +at this hour!" He was glad of the interruption; but his pleasure was +dashed by the fear that she would ask him to come home with her. + +"Oh, I have had such a pleasant party; So-and-so sang at Lady +Southey's. Oh, I have enjoyed myself! I knew I should find you here; +but I am interrupting. I will go." She put her arm round his neck. +He looked at her diamonds, and congratulated himself that she was +a lady. + +"I am afraid I am interrupting you," she said again. + +"Oh no, you aren't, I shall be done in half an hour; I have only got +a few more pages to read through. Escott went away, selfish brute +that he is, and has left me to do all the work." + +She sat by his side contentedly reading what he had written. At +half-past two all the pages were passed for press, and they descended +the spiral iron staircase, through the grease and vinegar smell of +the ink, in view of heads and arms of a hundred compositors, in +hearing of the drowsy murmur of the reading-boy. Her brougham was at +the door. As she stepped in Mike screwed up his courage and said +good-bye. + +"Won't you come?" she said, with disappointment in her eyes. + +"No, not to-night. I have been slaving at that paper for the last +four hours. Thanks; not to-night. Good-bye; I'll see you next week." + +The brougham rolled away, and Mike walked home. The hands of the +clocks were stretching towards three, and only a few drink-disfigured +creatures of thirty-five or forty lingered; so horrible were they +that he did not answer their salutations. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Mike was in his bath when Frank entered. + +"What, not dressed yet?" + +"All very well for you to talk. You left me at eleven to get the +paper out as best I could. I did not get away from the printer's +before half-past two." + +"I'm very sorry, but you've no idea how ill I felt. I really couldn't +have stayed on. I heard you come in. You weren't alone." + +The room was pleasant with the Eau de Lubin, and Mike's beautiful +figure appealed to Frank's artistic sense; and he noticed it in +relation to the twisted oak columns of the bed. The body, it was +smooth and white as marble; and the pectoral muscles were especially +beautiful when he leaned forward to wipe a lifted leg. He turned, and +the back narrowed like a leaf, and expanded in shapes as subtle. He +was really a superb animal as he stepped out of his bath. + +"I wish to heavens you'd dress. Leave off messing yourself about. +I want breakfast. Lizzie's waiting. What are you putting on those +clothes for? Where are you going?" + +"I am going to see Lily Young. She wrote to me this morning saying +she had her mother's permission to ask me to come." + +"She won't like you any better for all that scent and washing." + +"Which of these neckties do you like?" + +"I don't know.... I wish you'd be quick. Come on!" + +As he fixed his tie with a pearl pin he whistled the "Wedding March." +Catching Frank's eyes, he laughed and sang at the top of his voice as +he went down the passage. + +Lizzie was reading in one of the arm-chairs that stood by the high +chimney-piece tall with tiles and blue vases. The stiffness and glare +of the red cloth in which the room was furnished, contrasted with the +soft colour of the tapestry which covered one wall. The round table +shone with silver, and an agreeable smell of coffee and sausages +pervaded the room. Lizzie looked up astonished; but without giving +her time to ask questions, Mike seized her and rushed her up and +down. + +"Let me go! let me go!" she exclaimed. "Are you mad?" + +Frank caught up his fiddle. At last Lizzie wrenched herself from +Mike. + +"What do you mean? ... Such nonsense!" + +Laughing, Mike placed her in a chair, and uncovering a dish, said-- + +"What shall I give you this happy day?" + +"What do you mean? I don't like being pulled about." + +"You know what tune that is? That's the 'Wedding March.'" + +"Who's going to be married? Not you." + +"I don't know so much about that. At all events I am in love. The +sensation is delicious--like an ice or a glass of Chartreuse. Real +love--all the others were coarse passions--I feel it here, the +genuine article. You would not believe that I could fall in love." + +"Listen to me," said Lizzie. "You wouldn't talk like that if you were +in love." + +"I always talk; it relieves me. You have no idea how nice she is; so +frail, so white--a white blonde, a Seraphita. But you haven't read +Balzac; you do not know those white women of the North. '_Plus +blanche que la blanche hermine_,' etc. So pure is she that I cannot +think of kissing her without sensations of sacrilege. My lips are not +pure enough for hers. I would I were chaste. I never was chaste." + +Mike laughed and chattered of everything. Words came from him like +flour from a mill. + +The _Pilgrim_ was published on Wednesday. Wednesday was the day, +therefore, for walking in the Park; for lunching out; for driving in +hansoms. Like a fish on the crest of a wave he surveyed +London--multitudinous London, circulating about him; and he smiled +with pleasure when he caught sight of trees spreading their summer +green upon the curling whiteness of the clouds. He loved the Park. +The Park had always been his friend; it had given him society when no +door was open to him; it had been the inspiration of all his +ambitions; it was the Park that had first showed him ladies and +gentlemen in all the gaud and charm of town leisure. There he had +seen for the first time the panorama of slanting sunshades, patent +leather shoes, horses cantering in the dusty sunlight, or proudly +grouped, the riders flicking the flies away with gold-headed whips. +He loved the androgynous attire of the horsewomen--collars, silk +hats, and cravats. The Park appealed to him intensely and strangely +as nothing else did. He loved the Park for the great pasture it +afforded to his vanity. It was in the Park he saw the fashionable +procuress driving--she who would not allow him to pay even for +champagne in her house; it was in the Park he met the little actress +who looked so beseechingly in his face; it was in the Park he met +fashionable ladies who asked him to dinner and took him to the +theatre; it was in the Park he had found life and fortune, and, +saturated with happiness, with health, tingling with consciousness of +his happiness, Mike passed among the various crowd, which in its +listlessness seemed to balance and air itself like a many-petalled +flower. But much as the crowd amused and pleased him, he was more +amused and pleased with the present vision of his own personality, +which in a long train of images and stories passed within him. He +loved to dream of himself; in dreams he entered his soul like a +temple, seeing himself in various environment, and acting in manifold +circumstances. + +"Here am I--a poor boy from the bogs of Ireland--poor people" (the +reflection was an unpleasant one, and he escaped from it); "at all +events a poor boy without money or friends. I have made myself what I +am.... I get the best of everything--women, eating, clothes; I live +in beautiful rooms surrounded with pretty things. True, they are not +mine, but what does that matter?--I haven't the bother of looking +after them.... If I could only get rid of that cursed accent, but I +haven't much; Escott has nearly as much, and he was brought up at an +English school. How pleasant it is to have money! Heigho! How +pleasant it is to have money! Six pounds a week from the paper, and I +could make easily another four if I chose. Sometimes I don't get any +presents; women seem as if they were going to chuck it up, and then +they send all things--money, jewelry, and comestibles. I am sure it +was Ida who sent that hundred pounds. What should I do if it ever +came out? But there's nothing to come out. I believe I am suspected, +but nothing can be proved against me. + +"Why do they love me? I always treat them badly. Often I don't even +pretend to love them, but it makes no difference. Pious women, wicked +women, stupid women, clever women, high-class women, low-class women, +it is all the same--all love me. That little girl I picked up in the +Strand liked me before she had been talking to me five minutes. And +what sudden fancies! I come into a room, and every feminine eye fills +with sudden emotion. I wonder what it is. My nose is broken, and my +chin sticks out like a handle. And men like me just as much as women +do. It is inexplicable. True, I never say disagreeable things; and it +is so natural to me to wheedle. I twist myself about them like a +twining plant about a window. Women forgive me everything, and are +glad to see me after years. But they are never wildly jealous. +Perhaps I have never been really loved.... I don't know though--Lady +Seeley loved me. There was an old lady at Margate, sixty if she was a +day (of course there was nothing improper), and she worshipped me. +How nicely she used to smile when she said, 'Come round here that I +may look at you!'--and her husband was quite as bad; he'd run all +over the place after me. So-and-so was quite offended because I +didn't rush to see him; he'd put me up for six months.... Servants +hate Frank; for me they'd do anything. I never was in a lodging-house +in my life that the slavey didn't fall in love with me. People +dislike me; I speak to them for five minutes, and henceforth they run +after me. I make friends everywhere. + +"Those Americans wanted me to come and stay six months with them in +New York. How she did press me to come! ... The Brookes, they want me +to come and stay in the country with them; they'd give me horses to +ride, guns to shoot, and I'd get the girls besides. They looked +rather greedily at me just now. How jealous poor old Emily is of +them! She says I'd 'go to the end of the earth for them'--and would +not raise a little finger for her. Dear old Emily, she wasn't a bit +cross the other night when I wouldn't go home with her. I must go and +see her. She says she loved me--really loved me! ... She used to lie +and dream of pulling me out of burning houses. I wonder why I am +liked! How intangible, and yet how real! What a wonderful character I +would make in a novel!" + +At that moment he saw Mrs. Byril in the crowd; but notwithstanding +his kind thoughts of her, he prayed she might pass without seeing +him. Perceiving Lady Helen walking with her husband and Harding, he +followed her slim figure with his eyes, remembering what Seymour's +good looks had brought him, for he envied all love, desiring to be +himself all that women desire. Then his thoughts wandered. The +decoration of the Park absorbed him--the nobility of a group of +horses, the attractiveness of some dresses; and amid all this +elegance and parade he dreamed of tragedy--of some queen blowing her +brains out for him--and he saw the fashionable dress and the blood +oozing from the temple, trickling slowly through the sand. Then Lords +Muchross and Snowdown passed, and they passed without acknowledging +him! + +"Cads, cads, damn them!" His face changed expression. "I may rise to +any height, queens may fall down and worship me, but I may never undo +my birth. Not to have been born a gentleman! That is to say, of a +long line--a family with a history. Not to be able to whisper, 'I may +lose everything, all troubles may be mine, but the fact remains that +I was born a gentleman!' Those two men who cut me are lords. What a +delight in one's life to have a name all to one's self!" And then +Mike lost himself in a maze of little dreams. A gleam of mail; +escutcheons and castles; a hawk flew from fingers fair; a lady +clasped her hands when the lances shivered in the tourney; and Mike +was the hero that persisted in the course of this shifting little +dream. + +The Brookes--Sally and Maggie--stopped to speak to him, and he went +to lunch with them. His interest in all they did and said was +unbounded, and that he might not be able to reproach himself with +waste of time, he contrived by hint and allusion to lay the +foundation for a future intrigue with one of the girls. + +Lily Young, however, had never been forgotten; she had been as +constantly present in his mind as this sense of the sunshine and his +own happy condition. She had been parcel of and one with these but +now; as he drove to see her, he separated her from the morning +phenomena of his life, and began to think definitely of her. + +Smiling, he called himself a brute, and regretted his failure. But in +her presence his cynicism was evanescent. She sat on a little sofa, +covered with an Indian shawl; behind her was a great bronze, the +celebrated gift of a celebrated Rajah to her mother. Mrs. Young had +been on a tour in the East with her husband, and ever since her house +had been frequented by decrepit old gentlemen interested in Arabi, +and other matters which they spoke of as Eastern questions. + +Lily looked at Mike under her eyes as she passed across the room to +get him some tea, and they talked a little while. Then some three or +four great and very elderly historians entered, and she had to leave +him; and feeling he could not prolong his visit he went, conscious of +sensations of purity and some desire of goodness, if not for itself, +for the grace that goodness brings. He paid many visits in this +house, but conversations with learned Buddhists seemed the only +result; a _tete-a-tete_ with Lily seemed impossible. To his surprise +he never met her in society, and his heart beat fast when one evening +he heard she was expected; and for the first time forgetful of the +multitude, and nervous as a school-boy in search of his first love, +he sought her in the crowd. He feared to remain with her, and it +seemed to him he had accomplished much in asking her to come down to +supper. When talking to others his thoughts were with her, and his +eyes followed her. An inquisitive woman noted his agitation, and +suspecting the cause, said, "I see, I see, and I think something may +come of it." Even when Lily left he did not recover his ordinary +humour, and about two in the morning, in sullen weariness and +disappointment, he offered to drive Lady Helen home. + +Should he make love to her? He had often wished to. Here was an +opportunity. + +"You did not see that I was looking at you tonight; you did not guess +what I was thinking of?" + +"Yes, I did; you were looking at and thinking of my arms." + +Should he pass his arm round her? Lady Helen knew Lily, and might +tell; he did not dare it, and instead, spoke of her contributions to +the paper. Then the conversation branched into a description of the +Wednesday night festivities in Temple Gardens--the shouting and +cheering of the lords, the comic vocalists, the inimitable Arthur, +the extraordinary Bessie. He told, with fits of laughter, of +Muchross's stump speeches, and how he had once got on the +supper-table and sat down in the very centre, regardless of plates +and dishes. Mike and Lady Helen nearly died of laughter when he +related how on one occasion Muchross and Snowdown, both crying drunk, +had called in a couple of sweeps. "You see," he said, "the look of +amazement on their faces, and the black 'uns were forced into two +chairs, and were waited upon by the lords, who tucked their napkins +under their arms." + +"Oh don't, oh don't!" said Lady Helen, leaning back exhausted. + +But Mike went on, though he was hardly able to speak, and told how +Muchross and Snowdown had danced the can-can, kicking at the +chandelier from time to time, the sweeps keeping time with their +implements on the sideboard; the revel finishing up with a wrestling +match, Muchross taking the big sweep, and Snowdown the little one. + +"You should have seen them rolling over under the dining-room table; +I shall never forget Snowdown's shirt." + +"I should like to see one of these entertainments. Do you ever have a +ladies' night? If you do, and the ladies are not supposed to wrestle +with the laundresses in the early light, I should like to come." + +"Oh, yes, do come; Frank will be delighted. I'll see that things are +kept within bounds." The conversation fell, and he regretted he must +forego this very excellent opportunity to make love to her. + +Next day, changed in his humour, but still thinking of Lily, he went +to see Mrs. Byril, and he stopped a few days with her. He was always +strict in his own room, and if Emily sought him in the morning he +reprimanded her. + +She was one of those women who, having much heart, must affect more; +a weak intelligent woman, honest and loyal--one who could not live +without a lover. And with her arms about his neck, she listened to +his amours, and learnt his poetry by heart. Mike was her folly, and +she would never have thought of another if, as she said, he had only +behaved decently to her. "I am sorry, darling, I told you anything +about it, but when I got your beastly letter I wrote to him. Tell me +you'll come and stay with me next month, and I'll put him off.... I +hate this new girl; I am jealous because she may influence you, but +for the others--the Brookes and their friends--the half-hours spent +in summer-houses when the gardener is at dinner, I care not one jot." +So she spoke as she lay upon his knees in the black satin arm-chair +in the drawing-room. + +But her presence at breakfast--that invasion of the morning +hours--was irritating; he hated the request to be in to lunch, and +the duty of spending the evening in her drawing-room, instead of in +club or bar-room. He desired freedom to spend each minute as the +caprice of the moment prompted. Were he a rich man he would not have +lived with Frank; to live with a man was unpleasant; to live with a +woman was intolerable. In the morning he must be alone to dream of a +book or poem; in the afternoons, about four, he was glad to +aestheticize with Harding or Thompson, or abandon himself to the charm +of John's aspirations. + +John and he were often seen walking together, and they delighted in +the Temple. The Temple is escapement from the omniscient domesticity +which is so natural to England; and both were impressionable to its +morning animation--the young men hurrying through the courts and +cloisters, the picturesqueness of a wig and gown passing up a flight +of steps. It seemed that the old hall, the buttresses and towers, the +queer tunnels leading from court to court, turned the edge of the +commonplace of life. Nor did the Temple ever lose for them its quaint +and primitive air, and as they strolled about the cloisters talking +of art or literature, they experienced a delight that cannot be quite +put into words; and were strangely glad as they opened the iron +gates, and looked on all the many brick entanglements with the tall +trees rising, spreading the delicate youth of leaves upon the weary +red of the tiles and the dim tones of the dear walls. + + "A gentel Manciple there was of the Temple + Of whom achatours mighten take ensample + For to ben wise in bying of vitaille." + +The gentle shade of linden trees, the drip of the fountain, the +monumented corner where Goldsmith rests, awake even in the most +casual and prosaic a fleeting touch of romance. And the wide steps +with balustrades sweeping down in many turnings to the gardens, cause +vagrant and hurrying steps to pause, and wander about the library and +through the gardens, which lead with such charm of way to the open +spaces of the King's Bench walk. + +There, there is another dining-hall and another library. The clock is +ringing out the hour, and the place is filled with young men in +office clothes, hurrying on various business with papers in their +hands; and such young male life is one of the charms of the Temple; +and the absence of women is refreshment to the eye wearied of their +numbers in the streets. The Temple is an island in the London sea. +Immediately you pass the great doorway, studded with great nails, you +pass out of the garishness of the merely modern day, unhallowed by +any associations, into a calmer and benigner day, over which floats +some shadow of the great past. The old staircases lighted by strange +lanterns, the river of lingering current, bearing in its winding so +much of London into one enchanted view. The church built by the +Templars more than seven hundred years ago, now stands in the centre +of the inn all surrounded, on one side yellowing smoke-dried +cloisters, on another side various closes, feebly striving in their +architecture not to seem too shamefully out of keeping with its +beauty. There it stands in all the beauty of its pointed arches and +triple lancet windows, as when it was consecrated by the Patriarch of +Jerusalem in the year 1185. + +But in 1307 a great ecclesiastical tribunal was held in London, and +it was proved that an unfortunate knight, who had refused to spit +upon the cross, was haled from the dining-hall and drowned in a well, +and testimony of the secret rites that were held there, and in which +a certain black idol was worshipped, was forthcoming. The Grand +Master was burnt at the stake, the knights were thrown into prison, +and their property was confiscated. Then the forfeited estate of the +Temple, presenting ready access by water, at once struck the +advocates of the Court of Common Pleas at Westminster, and the +students who were candidates for the privilege of pleading therein, +as a most desirable retreat, and interest was made with the Earl of +Lancaster, the king's first cousin, who had claimed the forfeited +property of the monks by escheat, as the immediate lord of the fee, +for a lodging in the Temple, and they first gained a footing there as +his lessees. + +Above all, the church with its round tower-like roof was very dear to +Mike and John, and they often spoke of the splendid spectacle of the +religious warriors marching in procession, their white tunics with +red crosses, their black and white banner called Beauseant. It is +seen on the circular panels of the vaulting of the side aisles, and +on either side the letters BEAUSEANT. There stands the church of the +proud Templars, a round tower-like church, fitting symbol of those +soldier monks, at the west end of a square church, the square church +engrafted upon the circular so as to form one beautiful fabric. The +young men lingered around the time-worn porch, lovely with foliated +columns, strange with figures in prayer, and figures holding scrolls. +And often without formulating their intentions in words they entered +the church. Beneath the groined ribs of the circular tower lie the +mail-clad effigies of the knights, and through beautiful gracefulness +of grouped pillars the painted panes shed bright glow upon the +tesselated pavement. The young men passed beneath the pointed arches +and waited, their eyes raised to the celestial blueness of the +thirteenth-century window, and then in silence stole back whither the +knights sleep so grimly, with hands clasped on their breasts and +their long swords. + +And seeing himself in those times, clad in armour, a knight Templar +walking in procession in that very church, John recited a verse of +Tennyson's _Sir Galahad_-- + + "Sometimes on lonely mountain meres + I find a magic bark; + I leap on board; no helmsman steers: + I float till all is dark. + A gentle sound, an awful light! + Three angels bear the holy Grail; + With folded feet, in stoles of white, + On sleeping wings they sail. + Ah, blessed vision! blood of God! + My spirit beats her mortal bars, + As down dark tides the glory slides, + And star-like mingles with the stars." + + +"Oh! very beautiful. 'On sleeping wings they sail.' Say it again." + +John repeated the stanza, his eyes fixed upon the knight. + +Mike said-- + +"How different to-day the girls of the neighbourhood, their +prayer-books and umbrellas! Yet I don't think the anachronism +displeases me." + +"You say that to provoke me; you cannot think that all the dirty +little milliners' girls of the neighbourhood are more dignified than +these Templars marching in procession and taking their places with +iron clangour in the choir." + +"So far as that is concerned," said Mike, who loved to "draw" John, +"the little girls of the neighbourhood in all probability wash +themselves a great deal oftener than the Templars ever did. And have +you forgotten the accusations that were brought against them before +the ecclesiastical tribunal assembled in London? What about the black +idol with shining eyes and gilded head?" + +"Their vices were at least less revolting than the disgustful +meanness of to-day; besides, nothing is really known about the +reasons for the suppression of the Templars. Men who forswear women +are open to all contumely. Oh! the world is wondrous, just wondrous +well satisfied with its domestic ideals." + +The conversation came to a pause, and then Mike spoke of Lily Young, +and extolled her subtle beauty and intelligence. + +"I never liked any one as I do her. I am ashamed of myself when I +think of her purity." + +"The purity of ... Had she been pure she would have remained in her +convent." + +"If you had heard her speak of her temptations...." + +"I do not want to hear her temptations. But it was you who tempted +her to leave her convent. I cannot but think that you should marry +her. There is nothing for you but marriage. You must change your +life. Think of the constant sin you are living in." + +"But I don't believe in sin." + +With a gesture that declared a non-admission of such a state of soul, +John hesitated, and then he said-- + +"The beastliness of it!" + +"We have to live," said Mike, "since nature has so willed it, but I +fully realize the knightliness of your revolt against the principle +of life." + +John continued his admonitions, and Mike an amused and appreciative +listener. + +"At all events, I wish you would promise not to indulge in improper +conversation when I am present. It is dependent upon me to beg of you +to oblige me in this. It will add greatly to your dignity to refrain; +but that is your concern; I am thinking now only of myself. Will you +promise me this?" + +"Yes, and more; I will promise not to indulge in such conversation, +even when you are not present. It is, as you say, lowering.... I +agree with you. I will strive to mend my ways." + +And Mike was sincere; he was determined to become worthy of Lily. And +now the best hours of his life--hours strangely tense and strangely +personal--were passed in that Kensington drawing-room. She was to him +like the light of a shrine; he might kneel and adore from afar, but +he might not approach. The goddess had come to him like the moon to +Endymion. He knew nothing, not even if he were welcome. Each visit +was the same as the preceding. A sweet but exasperating +changelessness reigned in that drawing-room--that pretty drawing-room +where mother and daughter sat in sweet naturalness, removed from the +grossness and meanness of life as he knew it. Neither illicit +whispering nor affectation of reserve, only the charm of strict +behaviour; unreal and strange was the refinement, material and +mental, in which they lived. And for a time the charm sufficed; +desire was at rest. But she had been to see him, however at variance +such a visit, such event seemed with her present demeanour. And +she must come again! In increasing restlessness he conned all the +narrow chances of meeting her, of speaking to her alone. But no +accident varied the even tenor of their lives, the calm lake-like +impassibility of their relations, and in last resort he urged Frank +to give a dance or an At Home. And how ardently he pleaded, one +afternoon, sitting face to face with mother and daughter. Inwardly +agitated, but with outward calm, he impressed upon them many reasons +for their being of the party. The charm of the Temple, the river, and +glitter of light, the novel experience of bachelors' quarters.... +They promised to come. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Mike leaned forward to tie his white cravat. He was slight, and white +and black, and he thought of Lily, of the exquisite pleasure of +seeing her and leading her away. And he was pleased and surprised to +find that his thoughts of her were pure. + +The principal contributors to the _Pilgrim_ had been invited, and a +selection had been made from the fast and fashionable gang--those who +could be trusted neither to become drunk or disorderly. It had been +decided, but not without misgivings, to ask Muchross and Snowdown. + +The doors were open, servants could be seen passing with glasses and +bottles. Frank, who had finished dressing, called from the +drawing-room and begged Mike to hasten; for the housemaid was waiting +to arrange his room, for it had been decided that this room should +serve as a lounge where dancers might sit between the waltzes. + +"She can come in now," he shouted. He folded the curtains of his +strange bed; he lighted a silver lamp, re-arranged his palms, and +smiled, thinking of the astonished questions when he invited young +ladies to be seated among the numerous cushions. And Mike determined +he would say that he considered his bed-room far too sacred to admit +of any of the base wants of life being performed there. + +It was well-dressed Bohemia, with many markings and varied with +contrasting shades. The air was as sugar about the doorway with the +scent of gardenias; young lords shrank from the weather-stained cloth +of doubtful journalists, and a lady in long puce Cashmere provoked a +smile. Frank received his guests with laughter and epigram. + +The emancipation of the women is marked by the decline of the +chaperon, and it was not clear under whose protection the young girls +had come. Beneath double rows of ruche-rose feet passed, and the soft +glow of lamps shaded with large leaves of pale glass bathed the +women's flesh in endless half tints; the reflected light of copper +shades flushed the blonde hair on Lady Helen's neck to auroral +fervencies. + +In one group a fat man with white hair and faded blue eyes talked to +Mrs. Bentham and Lewis Seymour. A visit to the Haymarket Theatre +being arranged, he said-- + +"May I hope to be permitted to form one of the party?" + +Harding overheard the remark. He said, "It is difficult to believe, +but I assure you that that Mr. Senbrook was one of the greatest Don +Juans that ever lived." + +"We have in this room Don Juan in youth, middle age, and old +age--Mike Fletcher, Lewis Seymour, and Mr. Senbrook." + +"Did Seymour, that fellow with the wide hips, ever have success with +women? How fat he has grown!" + +"Rather; [Footnote: See _A Modern Lover_.] don't you know his story? +He came up to London with a few pounds. When we knew him first he was +starving in Lambeth. You remember, Thompson, the day he stood us a +lunch? He had just taken a decorative panel to a picture-dealer's, +for which he had received a few pounds, and he told us how he had met +a lady (there's the lady, the woman with the white hair, Mrs. +Bentham) in the picture-dealer's shop. She fell in love with him and +took him down to her country house to decorate it. She sent him to +Paris to study, and it was said employed a dealer for years to buy +his pictures." + +"And he dropped her for Lady Helen?" + +"Not exactly. Lady Helen dragged him away from her. He never seized +or dropped anything." + +"Then what explanation do you give of his success?" said a young +barrister. + +"His manner was always gentle and insinuating. Ladies found him +pretty to look upon, and very soothing. Mike is just the same; but of +course Seymour never had any of Mike's brilliancy or enthusiasm." + +"Do you know anything of the old gentleman--Senbrook's his name?" + +"I have heard that those watery eyes of his were once of entrancing +violet hue, and I believe he was wildly enthusiastic in his love. His +life has been closely connected with mine." + +"I didn't know you knew him." + +"I do not know him. Yet he poisoned my happiest years; he is the +upas-tree in whose shade I slept. When I was in Paris I loved a lady; +and I used to make sacrifices for this lady, who was, needless to +say, not worthy of them; but she had loved Senbrook in her earliest +youth, and it appears when a woman has once loved Senbrook, she can +love none other. You wouldn't think it, to look at him now, but I +assure you it is so. France is filled with the women he once loved. +The provincial towns are dotted with them. I know eight--eight exist +to my personal knowledge. Sometimes a couple live together, united by +the indissoluble fetter of a Senbrook betrayal. They know their lives +are broken, and they are content that their lives should be broken. +They have loved Senbrook, therefore there is nothing to do but retire +to France. You may think I am joking, but I'm not. It is comic, but +that is no reason why it shouldn't be true. And these ladies neither +forget nor upbraid; and they will attack you like tigers if you dare +say a word against him. This creation of faith is the certain sign of +Don Juan! No matter how cruelly the real Don Juan behaves, the women +he has deceived are ready to welcome him. After years they meet him +in all forgetfulness of wrong. Examine history, and you will find +that the love inspired by the real Don Juan ends only with death. Nor +am I sure that the women attach much importance to his infidelities; +they accept them, his infidelities being a consequential necessity of +his being, the eons and the attributes of his godhead. Don Juan +inspires no jealousy; Don Juan stabbed by an infuriated mistress is a +psychological impossibility." + +"I have heard that Seymour used to drive Lady Helen crazy with +jealousy." + +"Don Juan disappears at the church-door. He was her husband. The most +unfaithful wife is wildly jealous of her husband." + +A sudden silence fell, and a young girl was borne out fainting. + +"Nothing more common than for young girls to faint when he is +present. Go," said Harding, "and you will hear her calling his name." +Then, picking up the thread of the paradox, he continued--"But you +can't have Don Juan in this century, our civilization has wiped him +out; not the vice of which he is representative--that is eternal--but +the spectacle of adventure of which he is the hero. No more +fascinating idea. Had the age admitted of Don Juan, I should have +written out his soul long ago. I love the idea. With duelling and +hose picturesqueness has gone out of life. The mantle and the rapier +are essential; and angry words...." + +"Are angry words picturesque?" + +"Angry words mean angry attitudes; and they are picturesque." + +The young men smiled at the fascinating eloquence, and feeling an +appreciative audience about him, Harding continued-- + +"See Mike Fletcher, know him, understand him, and imagine what he +would have been in the eighteenth century, the glory of adventure he +would have gathered. His life to-day is a mean parody upon an easily +realizable might-have-been. So vital is the idea in him that his life +to-day is the reflection of a life that burned in another age too +ardently to die with death. In another age Mike would have outdone +Casanova. Casanova!--what a magnificent Casanova he would have been! +Casanova is to me the most fascinating of characters. He was +everything--a frequenter of taverns and palaces, a necromancer. His +audacity and unscrupulousness, his comedies, his immortal memoirs! +What was that delightful witty remark he made to some stupid husband +who lay on the ground, complaining that Casanova hadn't fought +fairly? You remember? it was in an avenue of chestnut trees, +approaching a town. Ha! I have forgotten. Mike has all that this man +had--love of adventure, daring, courage, strength, beauty, skill. For +Mike would have made a unique swordsman. Have you ever seen him ride? +Have you ever seen him shoot? I have seen him knock a dozen pigeons +over in succession. Have you ever seen him play billiards? He often +makes a break of a hundred. Have you ever seen him play tennis? He is +the best man we have in the Temple. And a poet! Have you ever heard +him tell of the poem he is writing? The most splendid subject. He +says that neither Goethe nor Hugo ever thought of a better." + +"You may include self-esteem in your list of his qualities." + +"A platitude! Self-esteem is synonymous to genius. Still, I do not +suppose he would in any circumstances have been a great poet; but +there is enough of the poet about him to enhance and complete his Don +Juan genius." + +"You would have to mend his broken nose before you could cite him as +a model Don Juan." + +"On the contrary, by breaking his nose chance emphasized nature's +intention; for a broken nose is the element of strangeness so +essential in modern beauty, or shall I say modern attractiveness? But +see that slim figure in hose, sword on thigh, wrapped in rich mantle, +arriving on horseback with Liperello! Imagine the castle balcony, and +the pale sky, green and rose, pensive as her dream, languid as her +attitude. Then again, the grand staircase with courtiers bowing +solemnly; or maybe the wave lapping the marble, the gondola shooting +through the shadow! What encounters, what assignations, what +disappearances, what sudden returnings! So strong is the love idea in +him, that it has suscitated all that is inherent and essential in the +character. It sent him to Boulogne so that he might fight a duel; and +the other day a nun left her convent for him. Curious atavism, +curious recrudescence of a dead idea of man! Say, is it his fault if +his pleasures are limited to clandestine visits; his fame to a +summons to appear in a divorce case; his danger to that most pitiful +of modern ignominies--five shillings a week? ... Bah! this age has +much to answer for." + +"But Casanova was a marvellous necromancer, an extraordinary +gambler." + +"I know no more enthusiastic gambler than Mike. Have you ever seen +him play whist? At Boulogne he cleaned them all out at baccarat." + +"And lost heavily next day, and left without paying." + +"The facts of the case have not been satisfactorily established. Have +you seen him do tricks with cards? He used to be very fond of card +tricks; and, by Jove! now I remember, there was a time when ladies +came to consult him. He had two pieces of paper folded up in the same +way. He gave one to the lady to write her question on; she placed it +in a cleft stick and burnt it in a lamp; but the stick was cleft at +both ends, and Mike managed it so that she burnt the blank sheet, +while he read what she had written. Very trivial; inferior of course +to Casanova's immense cabalistic frauds, but it bears out my +contention ... Have you ever read the _Memoirs?_ What a prodigious +book! Do you remember when the Duchesse de Chartres comes to consult +the _cabale_ in the little apartment in the Palais Royal as to the +best means of getting rid of the pimples on her face? ... and that +scene (so exactly like something Wycherley might have written) when +he meets the rich farmer's daughter travelling about with her old +uncle, the priest?" + +Mike was talking to Alice Barton, who was chaperoning Lily. Though +she knew nothing of his character she had drawn back instinctively, +but her strictness was gradually annealed in his persuasiveness, and +when he rose to go out of the room with Lily, she was astonished that +she had pleasure in his society. + +Lily was more beautiful than usual, the heat and the pleasure of +seeing her admirer having flushed her cheeks. He was penetrated with +her sweetness, and the hand laid on his arm thrilled him. Where +should he take her? Unfortunately the staircase was in stone; +servants were busy in the drawing-room. + +"How beautifully Mr. Escott plays the violin!" + +The melodious strain reeked through the doorways, filling the +passage. + +"That is Stradella's 'Chanson d'Eglise.' He always plays it; I'm sick +of it." + +"Yes, but I'm not. Do not let us go far, I should like to listen." + +"I thought you would have preferred to talk with me." + +Her manner did not encourage him to repeat his words, and he waited, +uncertain what he should say or do. When the piece was over, he +said-- + +"We had to turn my bedroom into a retiring-room. I'm afraid we shall +not be alone." + +"That does not matter; my mother does not approve of young girls +sitting out dances." + +"But your mother isn't here." + +"I should not think of doing anything I knew she did not wish me to +do." + +The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Muchross with +several lords, and he was with difficulty dissuaded from an attempt +to swarm up the columns of the wonderful bed. The room was full of +young girls and barristers gathered from the various courts. Some had +stopped before the great Christ. A girl had touched the suspended +silver lamp and spoken of "dim religious light"; but by no word or +look did Lily admit that she had been there before, and Mike felt it +would be useless to remind her that she had. She was the same as she +was every Wednesday in her mother's drawing-room. And the party had +been given solely with a view of withdrawing her from its influence. +What was he to say to this girl? Was he to allow all that had passed +between them to slip? Never had he felt so ill at ease. At last, +fixing his eyes upon her, he said-- + +"Let us cease this trifling. Perhaps you do not know how painful it +is to me. Tell me, will you come and see me? Do not let us waste +time. I never see you alone now." + +"I could not think of coming to see you; it would not be right." + +"But you did come once." + +"That was because I wanted to see where you lived. Now that I know, +there would be no reason for coming again." + +"You have not forgiven me. If you knew how I regret my conduct! Try +and understand that it was for love of you. I was so fearful of +losing you. I have lost you; I know it!" + +He cursed himself for the irresolution he had shown. Had he made her +his mistress she would now be hanging about his neck. + +"I forgive you. But I wish you would not speak of love in connection +with your conduct; when you do, all my liking for you dies." + +"How cruel! Then I shall never kiss you again. Was my kiss so +disagreeable? Do you hate to kiss me?" + +"I don't know that I do, but it is not right. If I were married to +you it would be different." + +The conversation fell. Then realizing that he was compromising his +chances, he said-- + +"How can I marry you? I haven't a cent in the world." + +"I am not sure I would marry you if you had every cent in the world." + +Mike looked at her in despair. She was adorably frail and adorably +pale. + +"This is very cruel of you." Words seemed very weak, and he feared +that in the restlessness and pain of his love he had looked at her +foolishly. So he almost welcomed Lady Helen's intrusion upon their +_tete-a-tete_. + +"And this is the way you come for your dance, Mr. Fletcher, is it?" + +"Have they begun dancing? I did not know it. I beg your pardon." + +"And I too am engaged for this dance. I promised it to Mr. Escott," +said Lily. + +"Let me take you back." + +He gave her his arm, assuring himself that if she didn't care for him +there were hundreds who did. Lady Helen was one of the handsomest +women in London, and he fancied she was thinking of him. And when he +returned he stood at the door watching her as she leaned over the +mantelpiece reading a letter. She did not put it away at once, but +continued reading and playing with the letter as one might with +something conclusive and important. She took no precaution against +his seeing it, and he noticed that it was in a man's handwriting, and +began _Ma chere amie_. The room was now empty, and the clatter of +knives and forks drowned the strains of a waltz. + +"You seemed to be very much occupied with that young person. She is +very pretty. I advise you to take care." + +"I don't want to marry. I shall never marry. Did you think I was in +love with Miss Young?" + +"Well, it looked rather like it." + +"No; I swear you are mistaken. I say, if you don't care about dancing +we'll sit down and talk. So you thought I was in love with Miss +Young? How could I be in love with her while you are in the room? You +know, you must have seen, that I have only eyes for you. The last +time I was in Paris I went to see you in the Louvre." + +"You say I am like Jean Gougon's statue." + +"I think so, so far as a pair of stays allows me to judge." + +Lady Helen laughed, but there was no pleasure in her laugh; it was a +hard, bitter laugh. + +"If only you knew how indifferent I am! What does it matter whether I +am like the statue or not? I am indifferent to everything." + +"But I admire you because you are like the statue." + +"What does it matter to me whether you admire me or not? I don't +care." + +He had not asked her for the dance; she had sought him of her +free-will. What did it mean? + +"Why should I care? What is it to me whether you like me or whether +you hate me? I know very well that three months after my death every +one will have ceased to think of me; three months hence it will be +the same as if I had never lived at all." + +"You are well off; you have talent and beauty. What more do you +want?" + +"The world cannot give me happiness. You find happiness in your own +heart, not in worldly possessions.... I am a pessimist. I recognize +that life is a miserable thing--not only a miserable thing, but a +useless thing. We can do no good; there is no good to be done; and +life has no advantage except that we can put it off when we will. +Schopenhauer is wrong when he asserts that suicide is no solution of +the evil; so far as the individual is concerned suicide is a perfect +solution, and were the race to cease to-morrow, nature would +instantly choose another type and force it into consciousness. Until +this earth resolves itself to ice or cinder, matter will never cease +to know itself." + +"My dear," said Lewis Seymour, who entered the room at that moment, +"I am feeling very tired; I think I shall go home, but do not mind +me. I will take a hansom--you can have your brougham. You will not +mind coming home alone?" + +"No, I shall not mind. But do you take the brougham. It will be +better so. It will save the horse from cold; I'll come back in a +hansom." + +Mike noticed a look of relief or of pleasure on her face, he could +not distinguish which. He pressed the conversation on wives, +husbands, and lovers, striving to lead her into some confession. At +last she said-- + +"I have had a lover for the last four years." + +"Really!" said Mike. He hoped his face did not betray his great +surprise. This was the first time he had ever heard a lady admit she +had had a lover. + +"We do not often meet; he doesn't live in England. I have not seen +him for more than six months." + +"Do you think he is faithful to you all that time?" + +"What does it matter whether he is or not? When we meet we love each +other just the same." + +"I have never known a woman like you. You are the only one that has +ever interested me. If you had been my mistress or my wife you would +have been happier; you would have worked, and in work, not in +pleasure, we may cheat life. You would have written your books, I +should have written mine." + +"I don't want you to think I am whining about my lot. I know what the +value of life is; I'm not deceived, that is all." + +"You are unhappy because your present life affords no outlet for your +talent. Ah! had you had to fight the battle! How happy it would have +made me to fight life with you! I wonder you never thought of leaving +your husband, and throwing yourself into the battle of work." + +"Supposing I wasn't able to make my living. To give up my home would +be running too great a risk." + +"How common all are when you begin to know them," thought Mike. + +They spoke of the books they had read. She told him of _Le Journal +d'Amiel_, explaining the charm that that lamentable record of a +narrow, weak mind, whose power lay in an intense consciousness of its +own failure, had for her. She spoke savagely, tearing out her soul, +and flinging it as it were in Mike's face, frightening him not a +little. + +"I wish I had known Amiel; I think I could have loved him." + +"Did he never write anything but this diary?" + +"Oh, yes; but nothing of any worth. The diary was not written for +publication. A friend of his found it among his papers, and from a +huge mass extricated two volumes." Then speaking in praise of the +pessimism of the Russian novels, she said--"There is no pleasure in +life--at least none for me; the only thing that sustains me is +curiosity." + +"I don't speak of love, but have you no affection for your +friends?--you like me, for instance." + +"I am interested in you--you rouse my curiosity; but when I know you, +I shall pass you by just like another." + +"You are frank, to say the least of it. But like all other women, I +suppose you like pleasure, and I adore you; I really do. I have never +seen any one like you. You are superb to-night; let me kiss you." He +took her in his arms. + +"No, no; loose me. You do not love me, I do not love you; this is +merely vice." + +He pleaded she was mistaken. They spoke of indifferent things, and +soon after went in to supper. + +"What a beautiful piece of tapestry!" said Lady Helen. + +"Yes, isn't it. But how strange!" he said, stopping in the doorway. +"See how exquisitely real is the unreal--that is to say, how full of +idea, how suggestive! Those blue trees and green skies, those nymphs +like unswathed mummies, colourless but for the red worsted of their +lips,--that one leaning on her bow, pointing to the stag that the +hunters are pursuing through a mysterious yellow forest,--are to my +mind infinitely more real than the women bending over their plates. +At this moment the real is mean and trivial, the ideal is full of +evocation." + +"The real and the ideal; why distinguish as people usually +distinguish between the words? The real is but the shadow of the +ideal, the ideal but the shadow of the real." + +The table was in disorder of cut pineapple, scattered dishes, and +drooping flowers. Muchross, Snowdown, Dicky the driver, and others +were grouped about the end of the table, and a waiter who styled them +"most amusing gentlemen," supplied fresh bottles of champagne. +Muchross had made several speeches, and now jumping on a chair, he +discoursed on the tapestry, drawing outrageous parallels, and talking +unexpected nonsense. The castle he identified as the cottage where he +and Jenny had spent the summer; the bleary-eyed old peacock was the +chicken he had dosed with cayenne pepper, hoping to cure its +rheumatism; the pool with the white threads for sunlight was the +water-butt into which Tom had fallen from the tiles--"those are the +hairs out of his own old tail." The nymphs were Laura, Maggie, Emily, +&c. Mike asked Lady Helen to come into the dancing-room, but she did +not appear to hear, and her laughter encouraged Muchross to further +excesses. The riot had reached its height and dancers were beginning +to come from the drawing-room to ask what it was all about. + +"All about!" shouted Muchross; "I don't care any more about nymphs--I +only care about getting drunk and singing. 'What cheer, 'Ria!'" + +"Don't you care for dancing?" said Lady Helen, with tears running +down her cheeks. + +"Ra-ther; see me dance the polka, dear girl." And they went banging +through the dancers. Snowdown and Dicky shouted approval. + + "What cheer, 'Ria! + 'Ria's on the job. + What cheer, 'Ria! + Speculate a bob. + 'Ria is a toff, and she is immensikoff-- + And we all shouted, + What cheer, 'Ria!" + +Amid the uproar Lady Helen danced with Lily Young. Insidious +fragilities of eighteen were laid upon the plenitudes of thirty! Pure +pink and cream-pink floated on the wind of the waltz, fading out of +colour in shadowy corners, now gliding into the glare of burnished +copper, to the quick appeal of the 'Estudiantina.' A life that had +ceased to dream smiled upon one which had begun to dream. Sad eyes of +Summer, that may flame with no desire again, looked into the eyes of +Spring, where fancies collect like white flowers in the wave of a +clear fountain. + +Mike and Frank turned shoulder against shoulder across the room, four +legs following in intricate unison to the opulent rhythm of the 'Blue +Danube'; and when beneath ruche-rose feet died away in little +exhausted steps, the men sprang from each other, and the rhythm of +sex was restored--Mike with Lily, and Frank with Helen, yielding +hearts, hands, and feet in the garden enchantment of Gounod's waltz. + + * * * * * * + +The smell of burnt-out and quenched candle-ends pervaded the +apartment, and slips of gray light appeared between the curtains. The +day, alas! had come upon them. Frank yawned; and pale with weariness +he longed that his guests might leave him. Chairs had been brought +out on the balcony. Muchross and his friends had adjourned from the +supper-room, bringing champagne and an hysterical lady with them. +Snowdown and Platt were with difficulty dissuaded from attempting +acrobatic feats on the parapet; and the city faded from deep purple +into a vast grayness. Strange was the little party ensconced in the +stone balcony high above the monotone of the river. + +Harding and Thompson, for pity of Frank, had spoken of leaving, but +the lords and the lady were obdurate. Her husband had left in +despair, leaving Muchross to bring her home safely to Notting Hill. +As the day broke even the "bluest" stories failed to raise a laugh. +At last some left, then the lords left; ten minutes after Mike, +Frank, Harding, and Thompson were alone. + +"Those infernal fellows wouldn't go, and now I'm not a bit sleepy." + +"I am," said Thompson. "Come on, Harding; you are going my way." + +"Going your way!" + +"Yes; you can go through the Park. The walk will do you good." + +"I should like a walk," said Escott, "I'm not a bit sleepy now." + +"Come on then; walk with me as far as Hyde Park Corner." + +"And come home alone! Not if I know it--I'll go if Mike will come." + +"I'll go," said Mike. "You'll come with us, Harding?" + +"It is out of my way, but if you are all going ... Where's John +Norton?" + +"He left about an hour ago." + +"Let's wake him up." + +As they passed up the Temple towards the Strand entrance, they turned +into Pump Court, intending to shout. But John's window was open, and +he stood, his head out, taking the air. + +"What!--not gone to bed yet?" + +"No; I have bad indigestion, and cannot sleep." + +"We are going to walk as far as Hyde Park Corner with Thompson. Just +the thing for you; you'll walk off your indigestion." + +"All right. Wait a moment; I'll put my coat on...." + +"I never pass a set of street-sweepers without buttoning up," said +Harding, as they went out of the Temple into the Strand. "The glazed +shoes I don't mind, but the tie is too painfully significant." + +"The old signs of City," said Thompson, as a begging woman rose from +a doorstep, and stretched forth a miserable arm and hand. + +About the closed wine-shops and oyster-bars of the Haymarket a shadow +of the dissipation of the night seemed still to linger; and a curious +bent figure passed picking with a spiked stick cigar-ends out of +the gutter; significant it was, and so too was the starving dog +which the man drove from a bone. The city was mean and squalid in +the morning, and conveyed a sense of derision and reproach--the +sweep-carriage-road of Regent Street; the Royal Academy, pretentious, +aristocratic; the Green Park still presenting some of the graces of +a preceding century. There were but three cabs on the rank. The +market-carts rolled along long Piccadilly, the great dray-horses +shuffling, raising little clouds of dust in the barren street, the +men dozing amid the vegetables. + +They were now at Hyde Park Corner. Thompson spoke of the +_improvements_--the breaking up of the town into open spaces; but he +doubted if anything would be gained by these imitations of Paris. His +discourse was, however, interrupted by a porter from the Alexandra +Hotel asking to be directed to a certain street. He had been sent to +fetch a doctor immediately--a lady just come from an evening party +had committed suicide. + +"What was she like?" Harding asked. + +"A tall woman." + +"Dark or fair?" + +He couldn't say, but thought she was something between the two. +Prompted by a strange curiosity, feeling, they knew not why, but +still feeling that it might be some one from Temple Gardens, they +went to the hotel, and obtained a description of the suicide from the +head-porter. The lady was very tall, with beautiful golden hair. For +a description of her dress the housemaid was called. + +"I hope," said Mike, "she won't say she was dressed in cream-pink, +trimmed with olive ribbons." She did. Then Harding told the porter he +was afraid the lady was Lady Helen Seymour, a friend of theirs, whom +they had seen that night in a party given in Temple Gardens by this +gentleman, Mr. Frank Escott. They were conducted up the desert +staircase of the hotel, for the lift did not begin working till seven +o'clock. The door stood ajar, and servants were in charge. On the +left was a large bed, with dark-green curtains, and in the middle of +the room a round table. There were two windows. The toilette-table +stood between bed and window, and in the bland twilight of closed +Venetian blinds a handsome fire flared loudly, throwing changing +shadows upon the ceiling, and a deep, glowing light upon the red +panels of the wardrobe. So the room fixed itself for ever on their +minds. They noted the crude colour of the Brussels carpet, and even +the oilcloth around the toilette-table was remembered. They saw that +the round table was covered with a red tablecloth, and that writing +materials were there, a pair of stays, a pair of tan gloves, and some +withering flowers. They saw the ball-dress that Lady Helen had worn +thrown over the arm-chair; the silk stockings, the satin shoes--and a +gleam of sunlight that found its way between the blinds fell upon a +piece of white petticoat. Lady Helen lay in the bed, thrown back low +down on the pillow, the chin raised high, emphasizing a line of +strained white throat. She lay in shadow and firelight, her cheek +touched by the light. Around her eyes the shadows gathered, and as a +landscape retains for an hour some impression of the day which is +gone, so a softened and hallowed trace of life lingered upon her. + +Then the facts of the case were told. She had driven up to the hotel +in a hansom. She had asked if No. 57 was occupied, and on being told +it was not, said she would take it; mentioning at the same time that +she had missed her train, and would not return home till late in the +afternoon. She had told the housemaid to light a fire, and had then +dismissed her. Nothing more was known; but as the porter explained, +it was clear she had gone to bed so as to make sure of shooting +herself through the heart. + +"The pistol is still in her hand; we never disturb anything till +after the doctor has completed his examination." + +Each felt the chill of steel against the naked side, and seeing the +pair of stays on the table, they calculated its resisting force. + +Harding mused on the ghastly ingenuity, withal so strangely +reasonable. Thompson felt he would give his very life to make a +sketch. Mike wondered what her lover was like. Frank was overwhelmed +in sentimental sorrow. John's soul was full of strife and suffering. +He had sacrificed his poems, and had yet ventured in revels which had +led to such results! Then as they went down-stairs, Harding gave the +porter Lewis Seymour's name and address, and said he should be sent +for at once. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +"I don't say we have never had a suicide here before, sir," said the +porter in reply to Harding as they descended the steps of the hotel; +"but I don't see how we are to help it. Whenever the upper classes +want to do away with themselves they chose one of the big hotels--the +Grosvenor, the Langham, or ourselves. Indeed they say more has done +the trick in the Langham than 'ere, I suppose because it is more +central; but you can't get behind the motives of such people. They +never think of the trouble and the harm they do us; they only think +of themselves." + +London was now awake; the streets were a-clatter with cabs; the pick +of the navvy resounded; night loiterers were disappearing and giving +place to hurrying early risers. In the resonant morning the young men +walked together to the Corner. There they stopped to bid each other +good-bye. John called a cab, and returned home in intense mental +agitation. + +"It really is terrible," said Mike. "It isn't like life at all, but +some shocking nightmare. What could have induced her to do it?" + +"That we shall probably never know," said Thompson; "and she seemed +brimming over with life and fun. How she did dance! ..." + +"That was nerves. I had a long talk with her, and I assure you she +quite frightened me. She spoke about the weariness of living;--no, +not as we talk of it, philosophically; there was a special accent of +truth in what she said. You remember the porter mentioned that she +asked if No. 57 was occupied. I believe that is the room where she +used to meet her lover. I believe they had had a quarrel, and that +she went there intent on reconciliation, and finding him gone +determined to kill herself. She told me she had had a lover for the +last four years. I don't know why she told me--it was the first time +I ever heard a lady admit she had had a lover; but she was in an +awful state of nerve excitement, and I think hardly knew what she was +saying. She took the letter out of her bosom and read it slowly. I +couldn't help seeing it was in a man's handwriting; it began, '_Ma +chere amie!_' I heard her tell her husband to take the brougham; that +she would come home in a cab. However, if my supposition is correct, +I hope she burnt the letter." + +"Perhaps that's what she lit the fire for. Did you notice if the +writing materials had been used?" + +"No, I didn't notice," said Mike. "And all so elaborately planned! +Just fancy--shooting herself in a nice warm bed! She was determined +to do it effectually. And she must have had the revolver in her +pocket the whole time. I remember now, I had gone out of the room for +a moment, and when I came back she was leaning over the +chimney-piece, looking at something." + +"I have often thought," said Harding, "that suicide is the +culminating point of a state of mind long preparing. I think that the +mind of the modern suicide is generally filled, saturated with the +idea. I believe that he or she has been given for a long time +preceding the act to considering, sometimes facetiously, sometimes +sentimentally, the advantages of oblivion. For a long time an +infiltration of desire of oblivion, and acute realization of the +folly of living, precedes suicide, and, when the mind is thoroughly +prepared, a slight shock or interruption in the course of life +produces it, just as an odorous wind, a sight of the sea, results in +the poem which has been collecting in the mind." + +"I think you might have the good feeling to forbear," said Frank; +"the present is hardly, I think, a time for epigrams or philosophy. I +wonder how you can talk so...." + +"I think Frank is quite right. What right have we to analyse her +motives?" + +"Her motives were simple enough; sad enough too, in all conscience. +Why make her ridiculous by forcing her heart into the groove of your +philosophy? The poor woman was miserably deceived; abominably +deceived. You do not know what anguish of mind she suffered." + +"There is nothing to show that she went to the Alexandra to meet a +lover beyond the fact of a statement made to Mike in a moment of +acute nervous excitement. We have no reason to think that she ever +had a lover. I never heard her name mentioned in any such way. Did +you, Escott?" + +"Yes; I have heard that you were her lover." + +"I assure you I never was; we have not even been on good terms for a +long time past." + +"You said just now that the act was generally preceded by a state of +feeling long preparing. It was you who taught her to read +Schopenhauer." + +"I am not going to listen to nonsense at this hour of the morning. I +never take nonsense on an empty stomach. Come, Thompson, you are +going my way." + +Mike and Frank walked home together. The clocks had struck six, and +the milkmen were calling their ware; soon the shop-shutters would be +coming down, and in this first flush of the day's enterprise, a last +belated vegetable-cart jolted towards the market. Mike's thoughts +flitted from the man who lay a-top taking his ease, his cap pulled +over his eyes, to the scene that was now taking place in the twilight +bedroom. What would Seymour say? Would he throw himself on his knees? +Frank spoke from time to time; his thoughts growled like a savage +dog, and his words bit at his friend. For Mike had incautiously given +an account in particular detail of his _tete-a-tete_ with Lady Helen. + +"Then you are in a measure answerable for her death." + +"You said just now that Harding was answerable; we can't both be +culpable." + +Frank did not reply. He brooded in silence, losing all perception of +the truth in a stupid and harsh hatred of those whom he termed the +villains that ruined women. When they reached Leicester Square, to +escape from the obsession of the suicide, Mike said-- + +"I do not think that I told you that I have sketched out a trilogy on +the life of Christ. The first play _John_, the second _Christ_, the +third _Peter_. Of course I introduce Christ into the third play. You +know the legend. When Peter is flying from Rome to escape +crucifixion, he meets Christ carrying His cross." + +"Damn your trilogy--who cares! You have behaved abominably. I want +you to understand that I cannot--that I do not hold with your +practice of making love to every woman you meet. In the first place +it is beastly, in the second it is not gentlemanly. Look at the +result!" + +"But I assure you I am in no wise to blame in this affair. I never +was her lover." + +"But you made love to her." + +"No, I didn't; we talked of love, that was all. I could see she was +excited, and hardly knew what she was saying. You are most unjust. I +think it quite as horrible as you do; it preys upon my mind, and if I +talk of other things it is because I would save myself the pain of +thinking of it. Can't you understand that?" + +The conversation fell, and Mike thrust both hands into the pockets of +his overcoat. + +At the end of a long silence, Frank said-- + +"We must have an article on this--or, I don't know--I think I should +like a poem. Could you write a poem on her death?" + +"I think so. A prose poem. I was penetrated with the modern +picturesqueness of the room--the Venetian blinds." + +"If that's the way you are going to treat it, I would sooner not have +it--the face in the glass, a lot of repetitions of words, sentences +beginning with 'And,' then a mention of shoes and silk stockings. If +you can't write feelingly about her, you had better not write at +all." + +"I don't see that a string of colloquialisms constitute feelings," +said Mike. + +Mike kept his temper; he did not intend to allow it to imperil his +residence in Temple Gardens, or his position in the newspaper; but he +couldn't control his vanity, and ostentatiously threw Lady Helen's +handkerchief upon the table, and admitted to having picked it up in +the hotel. + +"What am I to do with it? I suppose I must keep it as a relic," he +added with a laugh, as he opened his wardrobe. + +There were there ladies' shoes, scarves, and neckties; there were +there sachets and pincushions; there were there garters, necklaces, +cotillion favours, and a tea-gown. + +Again Frank boiled over with indignation, and having vented his sense +of rectitude, he left the room without even bidding his friend +good-night or good-morning. The next day he spent the entire +afternoon with Lizzie, for Lady Helen's suicide had set his nature in +active ferment. + +In the story of every soul there are times of dissolution and +reconstruction in which only the generic forms are preserved. A new +force had been introduced, and it was disintegrating that mass of +social fibre which is modern man, and the decomposition teemed with +ideas of duty, virtue, and love. He interrupted Lizzie's chit-chat +constantly with reflections concerning the necessity of religious +belief in women. + +About seven they went to eat in a restaurant close by. It was an old +Italian chop-house that had been enlarged and modernized, but the +original marble tables where customers ate chops and steaks at low +prices were retained in a remote and distant corner. Lizzie proposed +to sit there. They were just seated when a golden-haired girl of +theatrical mien entered. + +"That's Lottie Rily," exclaimed Lizzie. Then lowering her voice she +whispered quickly, "She was in love with Mike once; he was the fellow +she left her 'ome for. She's on the stage now, and gets four pounds a +week. I haven't seen her for the last couple of years. Lottie, come +and sit down here." + +The girl turned hastily. "What, Lizzie, old pal, I have not seen you +for ages." + +"Not for more than two years. Let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. +Escott--Miss Lottie Rily of the Strand Theatre." + +"Very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir; the editor of the +_Pilgrim_, I presume?" + +Frank smiled with pleasure, and the waiter interposed with the bill +of fare. Lottie ordered a plate of roast beef, and leaned across the +table to talk to her friend. + +"Have you seen Mike lately?" asked Lizzie. + +"Swine!" she answered, tossing her head. "No; and don't want to. You +know how he treated me. He left me three months after my baby was +born." + +"Have you had a baby?" + +"What, didn't you know that? It is seven months old; 'tis a boy, +that's one good job. And he hasn't paid me one penny piece. I have +been up to Barber and Barber's, but they advised me to do nothing. +They said that he owed them money, and that they couldn't get what he +owed them--a poor look-out for me. They said that if I cared to +summons him for the support of the child, that the magistrate would +grant me an order at once." + +"And why don't you?" said Frank; "you don't like the _expose_ in the +newspapers." + +"That's it." + +"Do you care for him still?" + +"I don't know whether I do, or don't. I shall never love another man, +I know that. I saw him in front about a month ago. He was in the +stalls, and he fixed his eyes upon me; I didn't take the least +notice, he was so cross. He came behind after the first act. He said, +'How old you are looking!' I said, 'What do you mean?' I was very +nicely made up too, and he said, 'Under the eyes.' I said, 'What do +you mean?' and he said, 'You are all wrinkles.' I said, 'What do you +mean?' and he went down-stairs.... Swine!" + +"He isn't good-looking," said Frank, reflectively, "a broken nose, a +chin thrust forward, and a mop of brown curls twisted over his +forehead. Give me a pencil, and I'll do his caricature." + +"Every one says the same thing. The girls in the theatre all say, +'What in the world do you see in him?' I tell them that if he +chose--if he were to make up to them a bit, they'd go after him just +the same as I did. There's a little girl in the chorus, and she trots +about after him; she can't help it. There are times when I don't care +for him. What riles me is to see other women messing him about." + +"I suppose it is some sort of magnetism, electro-biology, and he +can't help exercising it any more than you women can resist it. Tell +me, how did he leave you?" + +"Without a word or a penny. One night he didn't come home, and I sat +up for him, and I don't know how many nights after. I used to doze +off and awake up with a start, thinking I heard his footstep on the +landing. I went down to Waterloo Bridge to drown myself. I don't know +why I didn't; I almost wish I had, although I have got on pretty well +since, and get a pretty tidy weekly screw." + +"What do you get?" + +"Three ten. Mine's a singing part. Waiter, some cheese and celery." + +"What a blackguard he is! I'll never speak to him again; he shall +edit my paper no more. To-night I'll give him the dirty kick-out." + +Mike remained the topic of conversation until Lottie said-- + +"Good Lord, I must be 'getting'--it is past seven o'clock." + +Frank paid her modest bill, and still discussing Mike, they walked to +the stage-door. Quick with desire to possess Lizzie wholly beyond +recall, and obfuscated with notions concerning the necessity of +placing women in surroundings in harmony with their natural goodness, +Frank walked by his mistress's side. At the end of a long silence, +she said-- + +"That's the way you'll desert me one of these days. All men are +brutes." + +"No, darling, they are not. If you'll act fairly by me, I will by +you--I'll never desert you." + +Lizzie did not answer. + +"You don't think me a brute like that fellow Fletcher, do you?" + +"I don't think there's much difference between any of you." + +Frank ground his teeth, and at that moment he only desired one +thing--to prove to Lizzie that men were not all vile and worthless. +They had turned into the Temple; the old places seemed dozing in the +murmuring quietude of the evening. Mike was coming up the pathway, +his dress-clothes distinct in the delicate gray light, his light-gray +overcoat hanging over his arm. + +"What a toff he is!" said Lizzie. His appearance and what it +symbolized--an evening in a boudoir or at the gaming-table--jarred on +Frank, suggesting as it did a difference in condition from that of +the wretched girl he had abandoned; and as Mike prided himself that +scandalous stories never followed upon his loves, the unearthing of +this mean and obscure liaison annoyed him exceedingly. Above all, the +accusation of paternity was disagreeable; but determined to avoid a +quarrel, he was about to pass by, when Frank noticed Lady Helen's +pocket-handkerchief sticking out of his pocket. + +"You blackguard," he said, "you are taking that handkerchief to a +gambling hell." + +Then realizing that the game was up, he turned and would have struck +his friend had not Lizzie interposed. She threw herself between the +men, and called a policeman, and the quarrel ended in Mike's +dismissal from the staff of the _Pilgrim_. + +Frank had therefore to sit up writing till one o'clock, for the whole +task of bringing out the paper was thrown upon him. Lizzie sat by him +sewing. Noticing how pale and tired he looked, she got up, and +putting her arm about his neck, said-- + +"Poor old man, you are tired; you had better come to bed." + +He took her in his arms affectionately, and talked to her. + +"If you were always as kind and as nice as you are to-night ... +I could love you." + +"I thought you did love me." + +"So I do; you will never know how much." They were close together, +and the pure darkness seemed to separate them from all worldly +influences. + +"If you would be a good girl, and think only of him who loves you +very dearly." + +"Ah, if I only had met you first!" + +"It would have made no difference, you'd have only been saying this +to some one else." + +"Oh, no; if you had known me before I went wrong." + +"Was he the first?" + +"Yes; I would have been an honest little girl, trying to make you +comfortable." + +Throwing himself on his back, Frank argued prosaically-- + +"Then you mean to say you really care about me more than any one +else?" + +She assured him that she did; and again and again the temptations of +women were discussed. He could not sleep, and stretched at length on +his back, he held Lizzie's hand. + +She was in a communicative humour, and told him the story of the +waiter, whom she described as being "a fellow like Mike, who made +love to every woman." She told him of three or four other fellows, +whose rooms she used to go to. They made her drink; she didn't like +the beastly stuff; and then she didn't know what she did. There were +stories of the landlady in whose house she lodged, and the woman who +lived up-stairs. She had two fellows; one she called Squeaker--she +didn't care for him; and another called Harry, and she did care for +him; but the landlady's daughter called him a s----, because he +seldom gave her anything, and always had a bath in the morning. + +"How can a girl be respectable under such circumstances?" Lizzie +asked, pathetically. "The landlady used to tell me to go out and get +my living!" + +"Yes; but I never let you want. You never wrote to me for money that +I didn't send it." + +"Yes; I know you did, but sometimes I think she stopped the letters. +Besides, a girl cannot be respectable if she isn't married. Where's +the use?" + +He strove to think, and failing to think, he said-- + +"If you really mean what you say, I will marry you." He heard each +word; then a sob sounded in the dark, and turning impulsively he took +Lizzie in his arms. + +"No, no," she cried, "it would never do at all. Your family--what +would they say? They would not receive me." + +"What do I care for my family? What has my family ever done for me?" + +For an hour they argued, Lizzie refusing, declaring it was useless, +insisting that she would then belong to no set; Frank assuring her +that hand-in-hand and heart-to-heart they would together, with united +strength and love, win a place for themselves in the world. They +dozed in each other's arms. + +Rousing himself, Frank said-- + +"Kiss me once more, little wifie; good-night, little wife ..." + +"Good-night, dear." + +"Call me little husband; I shan't go to sleep until you do." + +"Good-night, little husband." + +"Say little hussy." + +"Good-night, little hussy." + +Next morning, however, found Lizzie violently opposed to all idea of +marriage. She said he didn't mean it; he said he did mean it, and he +caught up a Bible and swore he was speaking the truth. He put his +back against the door, and declared she should not leave until she +had promised him--until she gave him her solemn oath that she would +become his wife. He was not going to see her go to the dogs--no, not +if he could help it; then she lost her temper and tried to push past +him. He restrained her, urging again and again, and with theatrical +emphasis, that he thought it right, and would do his duty. Then they +argued, they kissed, and argued again. + +That night he walked up and down the pavement in front of her door; +but the servant-girl caught sight of him through the kitchen-window +and the area-railings, and ran up-stairs to warn Miss Baker, who was +taking tea with two girl friends. + +"He is a-walking up and down, Miss, 'is great-coat flying behind +him." + +Lizzie slapped his face when he burst into her room; and scenes of +recrimination, love, and rage were transferred to and fro between +Temple Gardens and Winchester Street. Her girl friends advised her to +marry, and the landlady when appealed to said, "What could you want +better than a fine gentleman like that?" + +Frank was conscious of nothing but her, and every vision of Mount +Rorke that had risen in his mind he had unhesitatingly swept away. +All prospects were engulfed in his desire; he saw nothing but the +white face, which like a star led and allured him. + +One morning the marriage was settled, and like a knight going to the +crusade, Frank set forth to find out when it could be. They must be +married at once. The formalities of a religious marriage appalled +him. Lizzie might again change her mind; and a registrar's office +fixed itself in his thought. + +It was a hot day in July when he set forth on his quest. He addressed +the policeman at the corner, and was given the name of the street and +the number. He hurried through the heat, irritated by the +sluggishness of the passers-by, and at last found himself in front of +a red building. The windows were full of such general announcements +as--Working Men's Peace Preservation, Limited Liability Company, New +Zealand, etc. The marriage office looked like a miniature bank; there +were desks, and a brass railing a foot high preserved the +inviolability of the documents. A fat man with watery eyes rose from +the leather arm-chair in which he had been dozing, and Frank +intimated his desire to be married as soon as possible; that +afternoon if it could be managed. It took the weak-eyed clerk some +little time to order and grasp the many various notions which Frank +urged upon him; but he eventually roused a little (Frank had begun to +shout at him), and explained that no marriage could take place after +two o'clock, and later on it transpired that due notice would have to +be given. + +Very much disappointed, Frank asked him to inscribe his name. The +clerk opened a book, and then it suddenly cropped up that this was +the registry office, not for Pimlico, but for Kensington. + +"Gracious heavens!" exclaimed Frank, "and where is the registry +office for Pimlico in Kensington?" + +"That I cannot tell you; it may be anywhere; you will have to find +out." + +"How am I to find out, damn it?" + +"I really can't tell you, but I must beg of you to remember where you +are, sir, and to moderate your language," said the clerk, with some +faint show of hieratic dignity. "And now, ma'am, what can I do for +you?" he said, turning to a woman who smelt strongly of the kitchen. + +Frank was furious; he appealed again to the casual policeman, who, +although reluctantly admitting he could give him no information, +sympathized with him in his diatribe against the stupidities of the +authorities. The policeman had himself been married by the registrar, +and some time was lost in vain reminiscences; he at last suggested +that inquiry could be made at a neighbouring church. + +Frank hurried away, and had a long talk with a charwoman whom he +discovered in the desert of the chairs. She thought the office was +situated somewhere in a region unknown to Frank, which she called St. +George-of-the-Fields; her daughter, who had been shamefully deserted, +had been married there. The parson, she thought, would know, and she +gave him his address. + +The heat was intolerable! There were few people in the streets. The +perspiration collected under his hat, and his feet ached so in his +patent leather shoes that he was tempted to walk after the water-cart +and bathe them in the sparkling shower. Several hansoms passed, but +they were engaged. Nor was the parson at home. The maid-servant +sniggered, but having some sympathy with what she discovered was his +mission, summoned the housekeeper, who eyed him askance, and directed +him to Bloomsbury; and after a descent into a grocer's shop, and an +adventure which ended in an angry altercation in a servants' registry +office, he was driven to a large building which adjoined the parish +infirmary and workhouse. + +Even there he was forced to make inquiries, so numerous and various +were the offices. At last an old man in gray clothes declared himself +the registrar's attendant, and offered to show him the way; but +seeing himself now within range of his desire, he distanced the old +chap up the four flights of stairs, and arrived wholly out of breath +before the brass railing which guarded the hymeneal documents. A +clerk as slow of intellect as the first, and even more somnolent, +approached and leaned over the counter. + +Feeling now quite familiar with a registrar's office, Frank explained +his business successfully. The fat clerk, whose red nose had sprouted +into many knobs, balanced himself leisurely, evidently giving little +heed to what was said; but the broadness of the brogue saved Frank +from losing his temper. + +"What part of Oireland do ye come from? Is it Tipperary?" + +"Yes." + +"I thought so; Cashel, I'm thinking." + +"Yes; do you come from there?" + +"To be sure I do. I knew you when you were a boy; and is his lordship +in good health?" + +Frank replied that Lord Mount Rorke was in excellent health, and +feeling himself obliged to be civil, he asked the clerk his name, and +how long it was since he had been in Ireland. + +"Well, this is odd," the clerk began, and then in an irritating +undertone Mr. Scanlon proceeded to tell how he and four others were +driving through Portarlington to take the train to Dublin, when one +of them, Michael Carey he thought it was, proposed to stop the car +and have some refreshment at the Royal Hotel. + +Frank tried several times to return to the question of the license, +but the imperturbable clerk was not to be checked. + +"I was just telling you," he interposed. + +It seemed hard luck that he should find a native of Cashel in the +Pimlico registrar's office. He had intended to keep his marriage a +secret, as did Willy Brookes, and for a moment the new danger +thrilled him. It was intolerable to have to put up with this +creature's idle loquacity, but not wishing to offend him he endured +it a little longer. + +When the clerk paused in his narrative of the four gentlemen who had +stopped the car to have some refreshment, Frank made a resolute stand +against any fresh developments of the story, and succeeded in +extracting some particulars concerning the marriage laws. And within +the next few days all formalities were completed, and Frank's +marriage fixed for the end of the week--for Friday, at a quarter to +eleven. He slept lightly that night, was out of bed before eight, and +mistaking the time, arrived at the office a few minutes before ten. +He met the old man in gray clothes in the passage, and this time he +was not to be evaded. + +"Are you the gentleman who's come to be married by special license, +sir?" + +"Yes." + +"Neither Mr. Southey--that is the Registrar--nor Mr. Freeman--that's +the Assistant-Registrar--has yet arrived, sir." + +"It is very extraordinary they should be late. Do they never keep +their appointments?" + +"They rarely arrives before ten, sir." + +"Before ten! What time is it now?" + +"Only just ten. I am the regular attendant. I'll see yer through it; +no necessity to hagitate yerself. It will be done quietly in a +private room--a very nice room too, fourteen feet by ten high--them's +the regulations; all the chairs covered with leather; a very nice +comfortable room. Would yer like to see the room? Would yer like to +sit down there and wait? There's a party to be married before you. +But they won't mind you. He's a butcher by trade." + +"And what is she?" + +"I think she's a tailoress; they lives close by here, they do." + +"And who are you, and where do you live?" + +"I'm the regular attendant; I lives close by here." + +"Where close by?" + +"In the work'us; they gives me this work to do." + +"Oh, you are a pauper, then?" + +"Yease; but I works here; I'm the regular attendant. No need to be +afraid, sir; it's all done in a private room; no one will see you. +This way, sir; this way." + +The sinister aspect of things never appealed to Frank, and he was +vastly amused at the idea of the pauper Mercury, and had begun to +turn the subject over, seeing how he could use it for a queer story +for the _Pilgrim_. But time soon grew horribly long, and to kill it +he volunteered to act as witness to the butcher's marriage, one being +wanted. The effects of a jovial night, fortified by some matutinal +potations, were still visible in the small black eyes of the rubicund +butcher--a huge man, apparently of cheery disposition; he swung to +and fro before the shiny oak table as might one of his own carcasses. +His bride, a small-featured woman, wrapped in a plaid shawl, +evidently fearing that his state, if perceived by the Registrar, +might cause a postponement of her wishes, strove to shield him. His +pal and a stout girl, with the air of the coffee-shop about her, +exchanged winks and grins, and at the critical moment, when the +Registrar was about to read the declaration, the pal slipped behind +some friends and, catching the bridegroom by the collar, whispered, +"Now then, old man, pull yourself together." The Registrar +looked up, but his spectacles did not appear to help him; the +Assistant-Registrar, a tall, languid young man, who wore a carnation +in his button-hole, yawned and called for order. The room was lighted +by a skylight, and the light fell diffused on the hands and faces; +and alternately and in combination the whiskied breath and the +carnation's scent assailed the nostrils. Suddenly the silence was +broken by the Registrar, who began to read the declarations. "I +hereby declare that I, James Hicks, know of no impediment whereby I +may not be joined in matrimony with Matilde, Matilde--is it Matilde +or Matilda?" + +"I calls her Tilly when I am a-cuddling of her; when she riles me, +and gets my dander up, I says, 'Tilder, come here!'" and the butcher +raised his voice till it seemed like an ox's bellow. + +"I really must beg," exclaimed the Registrar, "that the sanctity +of--the gravity of this ceremony is not disturbed by any foolish +frivolity. You must remember ..." But at that moment the glassy look +of the butcher's eyes reached the old gentleman's vision, and a heavy +hiccup fell upon his ears. "I really think, Mr. Freeman, that that +gentleman, one of the contracting parties I mean, is not in a fit +state--is in a state bordering on inebriation. Will you tell me if +this is so?" + +"I didn't notice it before," said Mr. Freeman, stifling a yawn, "but +now you mention it, I really think he is a little drunk, and hardly +in a fit ..." + +"I ne--ver was more jolly, jolly dog in my life (hiccup)--when you +gentlemen have made it (hiccup) all squ--square between me and my +Tilly" (a violent hiccup),--then suddenly taking her round the waist, +he hugged her so violently that Matilda could not forbear a +scream,--"I fancy I shall be, just be a trifle more jolly still.... +If any of you ge--gen'men would care to join us--most 'appy, Tilly +and me." + +Lizzie, who had discovered a relation or two--a disreputable father +and a nondescript brother--now appeared on the threshold. Her +presence reminded Frank of his responsibility, so forthwith he +proceeded to bully the Registrar and allude menacingly to his +newspaper. + +"I'm sure, sir, I am very sorry you should have witnessed such a +scene. Never, really, in the whole course of my life ..." + +"There is positively no excuse for allowing such people ..." + +"I will not go on with the marriage," roared the Registrar; "really, +Mr. Freeman, you ought to have seen. You know how short-sighted I am. +I will not proceed with this marriage." + +"Oh, please, sir, Mr. Registrar, don't say that," exclaimed Matilda. +"If you don't go on now, he'll never marry me; I'll never be able to +bring 'im to the scratch again. Indeed, sir, 'e's not so drunk as he +looks. 'Tis mostly the effect of the morning hair upon him." + +"I shall not proceed with the marriage," said the Registrar, sternly. +"I have never seen anything more disgraceful in my life. You come +here to enter into a most solemn, I may say a sacred, contract, and +you are not able to answer to your names; it is disgraceful." + +"Indeed I am, sir; my name is Matilda, that's the English of it, but +my poor mother kept company with a Frenchman, and he would have me +christened Matilde; but it is all the same, it is the same name, +indeed it is, sir. Do marry us; I shan't be able to get him to the +scratch again. For the last five years ..." + +"Potter, Potter, show these people out; how dare you admit people who +were in a state of inebriation?" + +"I didn't 'ear what you said, sir." + +"Show these people out, and if you ever do it again, you'll have to +remain in the workhouse." + +"This way, ladies and gentlemen, this way. I'm the regular +attendant." + +"Come along, Tilly dear, you'll have to wait another night afore we +are churched. Come, Tilly; do you hear me? Come, Tilda." + +Frightened as she was, the words "another night" suggested an idea to +poor Matilde, and turning with supplicating eyes to the Registrar, +she implored that they might make an appointment for the morrow. +After some demur the Registrar consented, and she went away tearful, +but in hope that she would be able to bring him on the morrow, as he +put it, "fit to the post." This matter having been settled, the +Registrar turned to Frank. Never in the course of his experience had +the like occurred. He was extremely sorry that he (Mr. Escott) had +been present. True, they were not situated in a fashionable +neighbourhood, the people were ignorant, and it was often difficult +to get them to sign their names correctly; but he was bound to admit +that they were orderly, and seemed to realize, he would say, the +seriousness of the transaction. + +"It is," said the Registrar, "our object to maintain the strictly +legal character of the ceremony--the contract, I should say--and to +avoid any affectation of ritual whatsoever. I regret that you, sir, a +representative of the press ..." + +"The nephew and heir to Lord Mount Rorke," suggested the clerk. + +The Registrar bowed, and murmured that he did not know he had that +honour. Then he spoke for some time of the moral good the registry +offices had effected among the working classes; how they had allowed +the poor--for instance, the person who has been known for years in +the neighbourhood as Mrs. Thompson, to legalize her cohabitation +without scandal. + +But Frank thought only of his wife, when he should clasp her hand, +saying, "Dearest wife!" He had brought his dramatic and musical +critics with him. The dramatic critic--a genial soul, well known to +the shop-girls in Oxford Street, without social prejudices--was deep +in conversation with the father and brother of the bride; the musical +critic, a mild-faced man, adjusted his spectacles, and awaking from +his dream reminded them of an afternoon concert that began unusually +early, and where his presence was indispensable. When the +declarations were over, Frank asked when he should put the ring on. + +"Some like to use the ring, some don't; it isn't necessary; all the +best people of course do," said the Assistant-Registrar, who had not +yawned once since he had heard that Frank's uncle was Lord Mount +Rorke. + +"I am much obliged to you for the information; but I should like to +have my question answered--When am I to put on the ring?" + +The dramatic critic tittered, and Frank authoritatively expostulated. +But the Registrar interposed, saying-- + +"It is usual to put the ring on when the bride has answered to the +declarations." + +"Now all of ye can kiss the bride," exclaimed the clerk from Cashel. + +Frank was indignant; the Registrar explained that the kissing of the +bride was an old custom still retained among the lower classes, but +Frank was not to be mollified, and the unhappy clerk was ordered to +leave the room. + +The wedding party drove to the Temple, where champagne was awaiting +them; and when health and happiness had been drunk the critics left, +and the party became a family one. + +Mike was in his bedroom; he was too indolent to move out of Escott's +rooms, and by avoiding him he hoped to avert expulsion and angry +altercations. The night he spent in gambling, the evening in dining; +and some hours of each afternoon were devoted to the composition of +his trilogy. Now he lay in his arm-chair smoking cigarettes, drinking +lemonade, and thinking. He was especially attracted by the picture he +hoped to paint in the first play of John and Jesus; and from time to +time his mind filled with a picture of Herod's daughter. Closing his +eyes slightly he saw her breasts, scarce hidden beneath jewels, and +precious scarves floated from her waist as she advanced in a vaulted +hall of pale blue architecture, slender fluted columns, and pointed +arches. He sipped his lemonade, enjoying his soft, changing, and +vague dream. But now he heard voices in the next room, and listening +attentively he could distinguish the conversation. + +"The drivelling idiot!" he thought. "So he's gone and married +her--that slut of a barmaid! Mount Rorke will never forgive him. I +wouldn't be surprised if he married again. The idiot!" + +The reprobate father declared he had not hoped to see such a day, so +let bygones be bygones, that was his feeling. She had always been a +good daughter; they had had differences of opinion, but let bygones +be bygones. He had lived to see his daughter married to a gentleman, +if ever there was one; and his only desire was that God might spare +him to see her Lady Mount Rorke. Why should she not be Lady Mount +Rorke? She was as pretty a girl as there was in London, and a good +girl too; and now that she was married to a gentleman, he hoped they +would both remember to let bygones be bygones. + +"Great Scott!" thought Mike; "and he'll have to live with her for the +next thirty years, watching her growing fat, old, and foolish. And +that father!--won't he give trouble! What a pig-sty the fellow has +made of his life!" + +Lizzie asked her father not to cry. Then came a slight altercation +between Lizzie and her husband, in which it was passionately debated +whether Harry, the brother, was fitted to succeed Mike on the paper. + +"How the fellow has done for himself! A nice sort of paper they'll +bring out." + +A cloud passed over Mike's face when he thought it would probably be +this young gentleman who would continue his articles--_Lions of the +Season_. + +"You have quarrelled with Mike," said Lizzie, "and you say you aren't +going to make it up again. You'll want some one, and Harry writes +very nicely indeed. When he was at school his master always praised +his writing. When he is in love he writes off page after page. I +should like you to see the letters he wrote to ..." + +"Now, Liz, I really--I wish you wouldn't ..." + +"I am sure he would soon get into it." + +"Quite so, quite so; I hope he will; I'm sure Harry will get into +it--and the way to get into it is for him to send me some paragraphs. +I will look over his 'copy,' making the alterations I think +necessary. But for the moment, until he has learned the trick of +writing paragraphs, he would be of no use to me in the office. I +should never get the paper out. I must have an experienced writer by +me." + +Then he dropped his voice, and Mike heard nothing till Frank said-- + +"That cad Fletcher is still here; we don't speak, of course; we +passed each other on the staircase the other night. If he doesn't +clear out soon I'll have to turn him out. You know who he is--a +farmer's son, and used to live in a little house about a mile from +Mount Rorke Castle, on the side of the road." + +Mike thrilled with rage and hatred. + +"You brute! you fool! you husband of a bar-girl!--you'll never be +Lord Mount Rorke! He that came from the palace shall go to the +garret; he that came from the little house on the roadside shall go +to the castle, you brute!" + +And Mike vowed that he would conquer sloth and lasciviousness, and +outrageously triumph in the gaudy, foolish world, and insult his +rival with riches and even honour. Then he heard Lizzie reproach +Frank for refusing her first request, and the foolish fellow's +expostulations suscitated feelings in Mike of intense satisfaction. +He smiled triumphantly when he heard the old man's talents as +accountant referred to. + +"Father never told you about his failure," said Lizzie. Then the +story with all its knots was laboriously unravelled. + +"But," said the old man, "my books were declared to be perfect; I was +complimented on my books; I was proud of them books." + +"Great Scott! the brother as sub-editor, the father as book-keeper, +the sister as wife--it would be difficult to imagine anything more +complete. I'm sorry for the paper, though;--and my series, what a +hash they'll make of it!" Taking the room in a glance, and imagining +the others with every piece of furniture and every picture, he +thought--"I give him a year, and then these rooms will be for sale. I +shall get them; but I must clear out." + +He had won four hundred pounds within the last week, and this and his +share in a play which was doing fairly well in the provinces, had run +up his balance at the bank higher than it had ever stood--to nearly a +thousand pounds. + +As he considered his good fortune, a sudden desire of change of scene +suddenly sprang upon him, and in full revulsion of feeling his mind +turned from the long hours in the yellow glare of lamp-light, the +staring faces, the heaps of gold and notes, and the cards flying +silently around the empty space of green baize; from the long hours +spent correcting and manipulating sentences; from the heat and +turmoil and dirt of London; from Frank Escott and his family; from +stinking, steamy restaurants; from the high flights of stairs, and +the prostitution of the Temple. And like butterflies above two +flowers, his thoughts hovered in uncertain desire between the +sanctity of a honeymoon with Lily Young in a fair enchanted pavilion +on a terrace by the sea, near, but not too near, white villas, in a +place as fairylike as a town etched by Whistler, and some months of +pensive and abstracted life, full to overflowing with the joy and +eagerness of incessant cerebration; a summer spent in a quiet +country-side, full of field-paths, and hedge-rows, and shadowy +woodland lanes--rich with red gables, surprises of woodbine and great +sunflowers--where he would walk meditatively in the sunsetting, +seeing the village lads and lassies pass, interested in their homely +life, so resting his brain after the day's labour; then in his study +he would find the candles already lighted, the kettle singing, his +books and his manuscripts ready for three excellent hours; upon his +face the night would breathe the rustling of leaves and the rich +odour of the stocks and tall lilies, until he closed the window at +midnight, casting one long sad and regretful look upon the gold +mysteries of the heavens. + +So his reverie ran, interrupted by the conversation in the next room. +He heard his name mentioned frequently. The situation was +embarrassing, for he could not open a door without being heard. At +last he tramped boldly out, slamming the doors after him, leaving a +note for Frank on the table in the passage. It ran as follows--"I am +leaving town in a few days. I shall remove my things probably on +Monday. Much obliged to you for your hospitality; and now, good-bye." +"That will look," he thought, "as if I had not overheard his remarks. +How glad I shall be to get away! Oh, for new scenes, new faces! 'How +pleasant it is to have money!--heigh-ho!--how pleasant it is to have +money!' Whither shall I go? Whither? To Italy, and write my poem? To +Paris or Norway? I feel as if I should never care to see this filthy +Temple again." Even the old dining-hall, with its flights of steps +and balustrades, seemed to have lost all accent of romance; but he +stayed to watch the long flight of the pigeons as they came on +straightened wings from the gables. "What familiar birds they are! +Nothing is so like a woman as a pigeon; perhaps that's the reason +Norton does not like them. Norton! I haven't seen him for ages--since +that morning...." He turned into Pump Court. The doors were wide +open; and there was luggage and some packing-cases on the landing. +The floor-matting was rolled, and the screen which protected from +draughts the high canonical chair in which Norton read and wrote was +overthrown. John was packing his portmanteau, and on either side of +him there was a Buddha and Indian warrior which he had lately +purchased. + +"What, leaving? Giving up your rooms?" + +"Yes; I'm going down to Sussex. I do not think it is worth while +keeping these rooms on." + +Mike expressed his regret. Mike said, "No one understands you as I +do." Herein lay the strength of Mike's nature; he won himself through +all reserve, and soon John was telling him his state of soul: that he +felt it would not be right for him to countenance with his presence +any longer the atheism and immorality of the Temple. Lady Helen's +death had come for a warning. "After the burning of my poems, after +having sacrificed so much, it was indeed a pitiful thing to find +myself one of that shocking revel which had culminated in the death +of that woman." + +"There he goes again," thought Mike, "running after his conscience +like a dog after his tail--a performing dog, too; one that likes an +audience." And to stimulate the mental antics in which he was so much +interested, he said, "Do you believe she is in hell?" + +"I refrain from judging her. She may have repented in the moment of +death. God is her judge. But I shall never forget that morning; and I +feel that my presence at your party imposes on me some measure of +responsibility. As for you, Mike, I really think you ought to +consider her fate as an omen. It was you ..." + +"For goodness' sake, don't. It was Frank who invented the notion that +she killed herself because I had been flirting with her. I never +heard of anything so ridiculous. I protest. You know the absurdly +sentimental view he takes. It is grossly unfair." + +Knowing well how to interest John, Mike defended himself +passionately, as if he were really concerned to place his soul in a +true light; and twenty minutes were agreeably spent in sampling, +classifying, and judging of motives. Then the conversation turned on +the morality of women, and Mike judiciously selected some instances +from his stock of experiences whereby John might judge of their +animalism. Like us all, John loved to talk sensuality; but it was +imperative that the discussion should be carried forward with gravity +and reserve. Seated in his high canonical chair, wrapped in his +dressing-gown, John would bend forward listening, as if from the +Bench or the pulpit, awaking to a more intense interest when some +more than usually bitter vial of satire was emptied upon the fair +sex. He had once amused Harding very much by his admonishment of a +Palais Royal farce. + +"It was not," he said, "so much the questionableness of the play; +what shocked me most was the horrible levity of the audience, the +laughter with which every indecent allusion was greeted." + +The conversation had fallen, and Mike said-- + +"So you are going away? Well, we shall all miss you very much. But +you don't intend to bury yourself in the country; you'll come up to +town sometimes." + +"I feel I must not stay here; the place has grown unbearable." A look +of horror passed over John's face. "Hall has the rooms opposite. His +life is a disgrace; he hurries through his writing, and rushes out to +beat up the Strand, as he puts it, for shop-girls. I could not live +here any longer." + +Mike could not but laugh a little; and offended, John rose and +continued the packing of his Indian gods. Allusion was made to +Byzantine art; and Mike told the story of Frank's marriage; and John +laughed prodigiously at the account he gave of the conversation +overheard. Regarding the quarrel John was undecided. He found himself +forced to admit that Mike's conduct deserved rebuke; but at the same +time, Frank's sentimental views were wholly distasteful to him. Then +in reply to a question as to where he was going, Mike said he didn't +know. John invited him to come and stay at Thornby Place. + +"It is half-past three now. Do you think you could get your things +packed in time to catch the six o'clock?" + +"I think so. I can instruct Southwood; she will forward the rest of +my things." + +"Then be off at once; I have a lot to do. Hall is going to take my +furniture off my hands. I have made rather a good bargain with him." + +Nothing could suit Mike better. He had never stayed in a country +house; and now as he hurried down the Temple, remembrances of Mount +Rorke Castle rose in his mind--the parade of dresses on the summer +lawns, and the picturesqueness of the shooting parties about the +long, withering woods. + + +CHAPTER VII + + +For some minutes longer the men lay resting in the heather, their +eyes drinking the colour and varied lights and lines of the vast +horizon. The downs rose like cliffs, and the dead level of the weald +was freckled with brick towns; every hedgerow was visible as the +markings on a chess-board; the distant lands were merged in blue +vapour, and the windmill on its little hill seemed like a bit out of +a young lady's sketch-book. + +"How charming it is here!--how delightful! How sorrow seems to +vanish, or to hang far away in one's life like a little cloud! It is +only in moments of contemplation like this, when our wretched +individuality is lost in the benedictive influences of nature, that +true happiness is found. Ah! the wonderful philosophy of the East, +the wisdom of the ancient races! Christianity is but a vulgarization +of Buddhism, an adaptation, an arrangement for family consumption." + +They were not a mile from where John had seen Kitty for a last time. +Now the mere recollection of her jarred his joy in the evening, for +he had long since begun to understand that his love of her had been a +kind of accident, even as her death a strange unaccountable +divagation of his true nature. He had grown ashamed of his passion, +and he now thought that, like Parsifal, instead of yielding, he +should have looked down and seen a cross in the sword's hilt, and the +temptation should have passed. That cruel death, never explained, so +mysterious and so involved in horror! In what measure was he to +blame? In what light was he to view this strange death as a symbol, +as a sign? And if she had not been killed? If he had married her? To +escape from these assaults of conscience he buried his mind in his +books and writings, not in his history of Christian Latin, for now +his history of those writers appeared to him sterile, and he +congratulated himself that he had outgrown love of such paradoxes. + +Solemn, and with the great curves of palms, the sky arched above +them, and all the coombes filled with all the mystery of evening +shadow, and all around lay the sea--a rim of sea illimitable. + +At the end of a long silence Mike spoke of his poem. + +"You must have written a good deal of it by this time." + +"No, I have written very little;" and then yielding to his desire to +astonish, confessed he was working at a trilogy on the life of +Christ, and had already decided the main lines and incidents of the +three plays. His idea was the disintegration of the legend, which had +united under a godhead certain socialistic aspirations then prevalent +in Judaea. In his first play, _John_, he introduces two reformers, one +of whom is assassinated by John; the second perishes in a street +broil, leaving the field free for the triumph of Jesus of Nazareth. +In the second play, _Jesus_, he tells the story of Jesus and the +Magdalene. She throws over her protector, one of the Rabbi, and +refuses her admirer, Judas, for Jesus. The Rabbi plots to destroy +Jesus, and employs Judas. In the third play, _Peter_, he pictures the +struggle of the new idea in pagan Rome, and it ends in Peter flying +from Rome to escape crucifixion; but outside the city he sees Christ +carrying His cross, and Christ says He is going to be crucified a +second time, whereupon Peter returns to Rome. + +As they descended the rough chalk road into the weald, John said, "I +have sacrificed much for my religion. I think, therefore, I have a +right to say that it is hard that my house should be selected for the +manufacture of blasphemous trilogies." + +Knowing that argument would profit him nothing, Mike allayed John's +heaving conscience with promises not to write another line of the +trilogy, and to devote himself entirely to his poem. At the end of a +long silence, John said-- + +"Now the very name of Schopenhauer revolts me. I accept nothing of +his ideas. From that ridiculous pessimism I have drifted very far +indeed. Pessimism is impossible. To live we must have an ideal, and +pessimism offers none. So far it is inferior even to positivism." + +"Pessimism offers no ideal! It offers the highest--not to create life +is the only good; the creation of life is the only evil; all else +which man in his bestial stupidity calls good and evil is ephemeral +and illusionary." + +"Schopenhauer's arguments against suicide are not valid, that you +admit, therefore it is impossible for the pessimist to justify his +continued existence." + +"Pardon me, the diffusion of the principle of sufficient reason can +alone end this world, and we are justified in living in order that by +example and precept we may dissuade others from the creation of life. +The incomparable stupidity of life teaches us to love our +parents--divine philosophy teaches us to forgive them." + +That evening Mike played numerous games of backgammon with Mrs. +Norton; talked till two in the morning to John of literature, and +deplored the burning of the poems, and besought him to write them +again, and to submit them, if need be, to a bishop. He worked hard to +obliterate the effect of his foolish confidences; for he was very +happy in this large country house, full of unexpected impressions for +him. On the wide staircases he stopped, tense with sensations of +space, order, and ample life. He was impressed by the timely meals, +conducted by well-trained servants; and he found it pleasant to pass +from the house into the richly-planted garden, and to see the +coachman washing the carriage, the groom scraping out the horse's +hooves, the horse tied to the high wall, the cowman stumping about +the rick-yard--indeed all the homely work always in progress. + +Sometimes he did not come down to lunch, and continued his work till +late in the afternoon. At five he had tea in the drawing-room with +Mrs. Norton, and afterwards went out to gather flowers in the garden +with her, or he walked around the house with John, listening to his +plans for the architectural reformation of his residence. + +Mike had now been a month at Thornby Place. He was enchanted with +this country-side, and seeing it lent itself to his pleasure--in +other words, that it was necessary to his state of mind--he strove, +and with insidious inveiglements, to win it, to cajole it, to make it +part and parcel of himself. But its people were reserved. +Instinctively Mike attacked the line and the point of least +resistance, and the point of least resistance lay about three miles +distant. A young squire--a young man of large property and an +unimpeachable position in the county--lived there in a handsome house +with his three sisters. His life consisted in rabbit-shooting and +riding out every morning to see his sheep upon the downs. He was the +rare man who does not desire himself other than he is. But content, +though an unmixed blessing to its possessor, is not an attractive +quality, and Mr. Dallas stood sorely in need of a friend. He loved +his sisters, but to spend every evening in their society was +monotonous, and he felt, and they felt still more keenly, that a nice +young man would create an interest that at present was wanting in +country life. Mike had heard of this young squire and his sisters, +and had long desired to meet him. But they had paid their yearly +visit to Thornby Place, and he could not persuade John to go to Holly +Park. + +One day riding on the downs, Mike inquired the way to Henfield of a +young man who passed him riding a bay horse. The question was +answered curtly--so curtly that Mike thought the stranger could not +be led into conversation. In this he was mistaken, and at the end of +half a mile felt he had succeeded in interesting his companion. As +they descended into the weald, Mike told him he was stopping at +Thornby Place, and the young squire told him he was Mr. Dallas. When +about to part, Mike asked to be directed to the nearest inn, +complaining that he was dying of thirst, for he wished to give Mr. +Dallas an excuse for asking him to his house. Mr. Dallas availed +himself of the excuse; and Mike prayed that he might find the ladies +at home. They were in the drawing-room. The piano was played, and +amid tea and muffins, tennis was discussed, allusions were made to +man's inconstancy. + +Mike left no uncertainty regarding his various qualities. He liked +hunting as much as shooting, and having regard for the season of the +year, he laid special stress upon his love for, and his prowess in, +the game of tennis. A week later he received an invitation to tennis. +Henceforth he rode over frequently to Holly Park. He was sometimes +asked to stay the night, and an impression was gaining ground there +that life was pleasanter with him than without him. + +When he was not there the squire missed the morning ride and the game +of billiards in the evening, and the companion to whom he could speak +of his sheep and his lambs. Mike listened to the little troubles of +each sister in the back garden, never failing to evince the +profoundest sympathy. He was surprised to find that he enjoyed these +conversations just as much as a metaphysical disquisition with John +Norton. "I am not pretending," he often said to himself; "it is quite +true;" and then he added philosophically, "Were I not interested in +them I should not succeed in interesting them." + +The brother, the sisters, the servants, even the lap-dog shared in +the pleasure. The maid-servants liked to meet his tall figure in the +passages; the young ladies loved to look into his tender eyes when +they came in from their walk and found him in the drawing-room. + +To touch Mike's skin was to touch his soul, and even the Yorkshire +terrier was sensible of its gentleness, and soon preferred of all +places to doze under his hand. Mike came into Dallas' room in the +morning when he was taking his bath; he hung around the young ladies' +rooms, speaking through the half-open doors; then when the doors were +open, the young ladies fled and wrapped themselves in dressing-gowns. +He felt his power; and by insidious intimations, by looks, words, +projects for pleasure, presents, practical jokes, books, and talks +about books, he proceeded joyously in his corruption of the entire +household. + +Naturally Mike rode his host's horses, and he borrowed his spurs, +breeches, boots, and hunting-whip. And when he began to realize what +an excellent pretext hunting is for making friends, and staying in +country houses, he bought a couple of horses, which he kept at Holly +Park free of cost. He had long since put aside his poem and his +trilogy, and now thought of nothing but shooting and riding. He could +throw his energies into anything, from writing a poem to playing +chuck-farthing. + +The first meet of the hounds was at Thornby Place, and in the vain +hope of marrying her son, Mrs. Norton had invited the young girls of +the entire country-side. Lady Edith Downsdale was especially included +in her designs; but John instantly vetoed her hopes by asking Mike to +take Lady Edith in to lunch. She stood holding her habit; and feeling +the necessity of being brilliant, Mike said, pointing to the hounds +and horses-- + +"How strange it is that that is of no interest to the artist! I +suppose because it is only parade; whereas a bit of lane with a +wind-blown hedge is a human emotion, and that is always interesting." + +Soon after, a fox was found in the plantation that rimmed the lawn, +and seeing that Lady Edith was watching him, Mike risked a fall over +some high wattles; and this was the only notice he took of her until +late in the afternoon, until all hope of hunting was ended. A fox had +been "chopped" in cover, another had been miserably coursed and +killed in a back garden. He strove to make himself agreeable while +riding with her along the hillsides, watching the huntsman trying +each patch of gorse in the coombes. She seemed to him splendid and +charming, and he wondered if he could love her--marry her, and never +grow weary of her. But when the hounds found in a large wood beneath +the hills, and streamed across the meadows, he forgot her, and making +his horse go in and out he fought for a start. A hundred and fifty +were cantering down a steep muddy lane; a horseman who had come +across the field strove to open a strong farm-gate. "It is locked," +he roared; "jump." The lane was steep and greasy, the gate was four +feet and a half. Mike rode at it. The animal dropped his hind-legs, +Mike heard the gate rattle, and a little ejaculatory cry come from +those he left behind. It was a close shave. Turning in his saddle he +saw the immense crowd pressing about the gate, which could not be +opened, and he knew very well that he would have the hounds to +himself for many a mile. + +He raced alone across the misty pasture lands, full of winter water +and lingering leaf; the lofty downs like sea cliffs, appearing +through great white masses of curling vapour. And all the episodes of +that day--the great ox fences which his horse flew, going like a bird +from field to field; the awkward stile, the various brooks,--that one +overgrown with scrub which his horse had refused--thrilled him. And +when the day was done, as he rode through the gathering night, +inquiring out the way down many a deep and wooded lane, happiness +sang within him, and like a pure animal he enjoyed the sensation of +life, and he intoxicated on the thoughts of the friends that would +have been his, the women and the numberless pleasures and adventures +he could have engaged in, were he not obliged to earn money, or were +not led away from them "by his accursed literary tastes." + +Should he marry one of the sisters? Ridiculous! But what was there to +do? To-day he was nearly thirty; in ten years he would be a +middle-aged man; and, alas! for he felt in him manifold resources, +sufficient were he to live for five hundred years. Must he marry +Agnes? He might if she was a peeress in her own right! Or should he +win a peerage for himself by some great poem, or by some great +political treachery? No, no; he wanted nothing better than to live +always strong and joyous in this corner of fair England; and to be +always loved by girls, and to be always talked of by them about their +tea-tables. Oh, for a cup of tea and a slice of warm buttered toast! + +A good hour's ride yawned between him and Holly Park, but by crossing +the downs it might be reduced to three-quarters of an hour. He +hesitated, fearing he might miss his way in the fog, but the +tea-table lured him. He resolved to attempt it, and forced his horse +up a slightly indicated path, which he hoped would led him to a +certain barn. High above him a horseman, faint as the shadow of a +bird, made his way cantering briskly. Mike strove to overtake him, +but suddenly missed him: behind him the pathway was disappearing. + +Fearing he might have to pass a night on the downs, he turned his +horse's head; but the animal was obdurate, and a moment after he was +lost. He said, "Great Scott! where am I? Where did this ploughed +field come from? I must be near the dike." Then thinking that he +recognized the headland, he rode in a different direction, but was +stopped by a paling and a chalk-pit, and, riding round it, he guessed +the chalk-pit must be fifty feet deep. Strange white patches, +fabulous hillocks, and distortions of ground loomed through the white +darkness; and a valley opened on his right so steep that he was +afraid to descend into it. Very soon minutes became hours and miles +became leagues. + +"There's nothing for it but to lie under a furze-bush." With two +pocket-handkerchiefs he tied his horse's fore-legs close together, +and sat down and lit a cigar. The furze-patch was quite hollow +underneath and almost dry. + +"It is nearly full moon," he said; "were it not for that it would be +pitch dark. Good Lord! thirteen hours of this; I wish I had never +been born!" + +He had not, however, finished his first cigar before a horse's head +and shoulders pushed through the mist. Mike sprang to his feet. + +"Can you tell me the way off these infernal downs?" he cried. "Oh, I +beg your pardon, Lady Edith." + +"Oh, is that you, Mr. Fletcher? I have lost my way and my groom too. +I am awfully frightened; I missed him of a sudden in the fog. What +shall I do? Can you tell me the way?" + +"Indeed I cannot; if I knew the way I should not be sitting under +this furze-bush." + +"What shall we do? I must get home." + +"It is very terrible, Lady Edith, but I'm afraid you will not be able +to get home till the fog lifts." + +"But I must get home. I must! I must! What will they think? They'll +be sending out to look for me. Won't you come with me, Mr. Fletcher, +and help me to find the way?" + +"I will, of course, do anything you like; but I warn you, Lady Edith, +that riding about these downs in a fog is most dangerous; I as nearly +as possible went over a chalk-pit fifty feet deep." + +"Oh, Mr. Fletcher, I must get home; I cannot stay here all night; it +is ridiculous." + +They talked so for a few minutes. Then amid many protestations Lady +Edith was induced to dismount. He forced her to drink, and to +continue sipping from his hunting-flask, which was fortunately full +of brandy; and when she said she was no longer cold, he put his arm +about her, and they talked of their sensations on first seeing each +other. + +Three small stones, two embedded in the ground, the third, a large +flint, lay close where the grass began, and the form of a bush was +faint on the heavy white blanket in which the world was wrapped. A +rabbit crept through the furze and frightened them, and they heard +the horses browsing. + +Mike declared he could say when she had begun to like him. + +"You remember you were standing by the sideboard holding your habit +over your boots; I brought you a glass of champagne, and you looked +at me...." + +She told him of her troubles since she had left school. He related +the story of his own precarious fortunes; and as they lay dreaming of +each other, the sound of horse's hoofs came through the darkness. + +"Oh, do cry out, perhaps they will be able to tell us the way." + +"Do you want to leave me?" + +"No, no, but I must get home; what will father think?" + +Mike shouted, and his shout was answered. + +"Where are you?" asked the unknown. + +"Here," said Mike. + +"Where is here?" + +"By the furze-bush." + +"Where is the furze-bush?" + +It was difficult to explain, and the voice grew fainter. Then it +seemed to come from a different side. + +Mike shouted again and again, and at last a horseman loomed like a +nightmare out of the dark. It was Parker, Lady Edith's groom. + +"Oh, Parker, how did you miss me? I have been awfully frightened; I +don't know what I should have done if I had not met Mr. Fletcher." + +"I was coming round that barn, my lady; you set off at a trot, my +lady, and a cloud of fog came between us." + +"Yes, yes; but do you know the way home?" + +"I think, my lady, we are near the dike; but I wouldn't be certain." + +"I nearly as possible rode into a chalk-pit," said Mike. "Unpleasant +as it is, I think we had better remain where we are until it clears." + +"Oh, no, no, we cannot remain here; we might walk and lead the +horses." + +"Very well, you get on your horse; I'll lead." + +"No, no," she whispered, "give me your arm, and I'll walk." + +They walked in the bitter, hopeless dark, stumbling over the rough +ground, the groom following with the horses. But soon Lady Edith +stopped, and leaning heavily on Mike, said-- + +"I can go no further; I wish I were dead!" + +"Dead! No, no," he whispered; "live for my sake, darling." + +At that moment the gable of a barn appeared like an apparition. The +cattle which were lying in the yard started from under the horses' +feet, and stood staring in round-eyed surprise. The barn was half +full of hay, and in the dry pungent odour Mike and Lady Edith rested +an hour. Sometimes a bullock filled the doorway with ungainly form +and steaming nostrils; sometimes the lips of the lovers met. In about +half an hour the groom returned with the news that the fog was +lifting, and discovering a cart-track, they followed it over the +hills for many a mile. + +"There is Horton Borstal," cried Parker, as they entered a deep +cutting overgrown with bushes. "I know my way now, my lady; we are +seven miles from home." + +When he bade Lady Edith good-bye, Mike's mind thrilled with a sense +of singular satisfaction. Here was an adventure which seemed to him +quite perfect; it had been preceded by no wearisome preliminaries, +and he was not likely ever to see her again. + +Weeks and months passed, and the simple-minded country folk with whom +he had taken up his abode seemed more thoroughly devoted to him; the +anchor of their belief seemed now deeply grounded, and in the +peaceful bay of their affection his bark floated, safe from +shipwrecking current or storm. There was neither subterfuge or +duplicity in Mike; he was always singularly candid on the subject of +his sins and general worthlessness, and he was never more natural in +word and deed than at Holly Park. If its inmates had been reasonable +they would have cast him forth; but reason enters hardly at all in +the practical conduct of human life, and our loves and friendships +owe to it neither origin or modification. + +It was a house of copious meals and sleep. Mike stirred these +sluggish livers, and they accepted him as a digestive; and they +amused him, and he only dreamed vaguely of leaving them until he +found his balance at the bank had fallen very low. Then he packed up +his portmanteau and left them, and when he walked down the Strand he +had forgotten them and all country pursuits, and wanted to talk of +journalism; and he would have welcomed the obscurest paragraphist. +Suddenly he saw Frank; and turning from a golden-haired actress who +was smiling upon him, he said-- + +"How do you do?" The men shook hands, and stood constrainedly talking +for a few minutes; then Mike suggested lunch, and they turned into +Lubini's. The proprietor, a dapper little man, more like a rich man's +valet than a waiter, whose fat fingers sparkled with rings, sat +sipping sherry and reading the racing intelligence to a lord who +offered to toss him for half-crowns. + +"Now then, Lubi," cried the lord, "which is it? Come on; just this +once." + +Lubi demurred. "You toss too well for me; last night you did win +seven times running--damn!" + +"Come on, Lubi; here it is flat on the table." + +Mike longed to pull his money out of his pocket, but he had not been +on terms with Lubi since he had called him a _Marchand de Soupe_, an +insult which Lubi had not been able to forgive, and it was the +restaurateur's women-folk who welcomed him back to town after his +long absence. + +"What an air of dissipation, hilarity, and drink there is about the +place!" said Mike. "Look!" and his eyes rested on two gross +men--music-hall singers--who sat with their agent, sipping +Chartreuse. "Three years ago," he said, "they were crying artichokes +in an alley, and the slum is still upon their faces." + +No one else was in the long gallery save the waiters, who dozed far +away in the mean twilight of the glass-roofing. + +"How jolly it is," said Mike, "to order your own dinner! Let's have +some oysters--three dozen. We'll have a Chateaubriand--what do you +say? And an omelette soufflee--what do you think? And a bottle of +champagne. Waiter, bring me the wine-list." + +Frank had spoken to Mike because he felt lonely; the world had turned +a harsh face on him. Lord Mount Rorke had married, and the paper was +losing its circulation. + +"And how is the paper going?" + +"Pretty well; just the same as usual. Do you ever see it? What do you +think of my articles?" + +"Your continuation of my series, _Lions of the Season?_ Very good; I +only saw one or two. I have been living in the country, and have +hardly seen a paper for the last year and a half. You can't imagine +the life I have been leading. Nice kind people 'tis true; I love +them, but they never open a book. That is all very nice for a +time--for three months, for six, for a year--but after that you feel +a sense of alienation stealing over you." + +Mike saw that Frank had only met with failure; so he was tempted to +brandish his successes. He gave a humorous description of his +friends--how he had picked them up; how they had supplied him with +horses to ride and guns to shoot with. + +"And what about the young ladies? Were they included in the +hospitality?" + +"They included themselves. How delicious love in a country house +is!--and how different from other love it is, to follow a girl +dressed for dinner into the drawing-room or library, and to take her +by the waist, to feel a head leaning towards you and a mouth closing +upon yours! Above all, when the room is in darkness--better still in +the firelight--the light of the fire on her neck.... How good these +oysters are! Have some more champagne." + +Then, in a sudden silence, a music-hall gent was heard to say that +some one was a splendid woman, beautifully developed. + +"Now then, Lubi, old man, I toss you for a sovereign," cried a lord, +who looked like a sandwich-man in his ample driving-coat. + +"You no more toss with me, I have done with you; you too sharp for +me." + +"What! are you going to cut me? Are you going to warn me off your +restaurant?" + +Roars of laughter followed, and the lions of song gazed in admiration +on the lord. + +"I may be hard up," cried the lord; "but I'm damned if I ever look +hard up; do I, Lubi?" + +"Since you turn up head when you like, why should you look hard up?" + +"You want us to believe you are a 'mug,' Lubi, that's about it, but +it won't do. 'Mugs' are rare nowadays. I don't know where to go and +look for them.... I say, Lubi," and he whispered something in the +restaurateur's ear, "if you know of any knocking about, bring them +down to my place; you shall stand in." + +"Damn me! You take me for a pump, do you? You get out!" + +The genial lord roared the more, and assured Lubi he meant "mugs," +and offered to toss him for a sovereign. + +"How jolly this is!" said Mike. "I'm dying for a gamble; I feel as if +I could play as I never played before. I have all the cards in my +mind's eye. By George! I wish I could get hold of a 'mug,' I'd fleece +him to the tune of five hundred before he knew where he was. But look +at that woman! She's not bad." + +"A great coarse creature like that! I never could understand you.... +Have you heard of Lily Young lately?" + +Mike's face fell. + +"No," he said, "I have not. She is the only woman I ever loved. I +would sooner see her than the green cloth. I really believe I love +that girl. Somehow I cannot forget her." + +"Well, come and see her to-day. Take your eyes off that disgusting +harlot." + +"No, not to-day," he replied, without removing his eyes. Five minutes +after he said, "Very well, I will go. I must see her." + +The waiter was called, the bill was paid, a hansom was hailed, and +they were rolling westward. In the pleasure of this little +expedition, Mike's rankling animosity was almost forgotten. He said-- + +"I love this drive west; I love to see London opening up, as it were, +before the wheels of the hansom--Trafalgar Square, the Clubs, Pall +Mall, St. James' Street, Piccadilly, the descent, and then the +gracious ascent beneath the trees. You see how I anticipate it all." + +"Do you remember that morning when Lady Helen committed suicide? What +did you think of my article?" + +"I didn't see it. I should have liked to have written about it; but +you said that I wouldn't write feelingly." + +Mrs. Young hardly rose from her sofa; but she welcomed them in +plaintive accents. Lily showed less astonishment and pleasure at +seeing him than Mike expected. She was talking to a lady, who was +subsequently discovered to be the wife of a strange fat man, who, in +his character of Orientalist, squatted upon the lowest seat in the +room, and wore a velvet turban on his head, a voluminous overcoat +circulating about him. + +"As I said to Lady Hazeldean last night--I hope Mr. Gladstone did not +hear me, he was talking to Lady Engleton Dixon about divorce, I +really hope he did not hear me--but I really couldn't help saying +that I thought it would be better if he believed less in the divorce +of nations, even if I may not add that he might with advantage +believe more in the divorce of persons not suited to each other." + +When the conversation turned on Arabi, which it never failed to do in +this house, the perfume-burners that had been presented to her and +Mr. Young on their triumphal tour were pointed out. + +"I telegraphed to Dilke," said Sir Joseph, "'You must not hang that +man.' And when Mrs. Young accused him of not taking sufficient +interest in Africa, he said--'My dear Mrs. Young, I not interested in +Africa! You forget what I have done for Africa; how I have laboured +for Africa. I shall not believe in the synthesis of humanity, nor +will it be complete, till we get the black votes.'" + +"Mr. Young and Lord Granville used to have such long discussions +about Buddhism, and it always used to end in Mr. Young sending a copy +of your book to Lord Granville." + +"A very great distinction for me--a very great distinction for me," +murmured Buddha; and allowing Mrs. Young to relieve him of his +tea-cup, he said--"and now, Mrs. Young, I want to ask for your +support and co-operation in a little scheme--a little scheme which I +have been nourishing like a rose in my bosom for some years." + +Sir Joseph raised his voice; and it was not until he had imposed +silence on his wife that he consented to unfold his little scheme. + +Then the fat man explained that in a certain province in Cylone (a +name of six syllables) there was a temple, and this temple had +belonged in the sixth century to a tribe of Buddhists (a name of +seven syllables), and this temple had in the eighth century been +taken from the Buddhists by a tribe of Brahmins (a name of eight +syllables). + +"And not being Mr. Gladstone," said Sir Joseph, "I do not propose to +dispossess the Brahmins without compensation. I am merely desirous +that the Brahmins should be bought out by the Indian Government at a +cost of a hundred and fifty or two hundred thousand. If this were +done the number of pilgrims to this holy shrine would be doubled, and +the best results would follow." + +"Oh, Mrs. Jellaby, where art thou?" thought Mike, and he boldly took +advantage of the elaborate preparations that were being made for Sir +Joseph to write his name on a fan, to move round the table and take a +seat by Lily. + +But Frank's patience was exhausted, and he rose to leave. + +"People wonder at the genius of Shakespeare! I must say the stupidity +of the ordinary man surprises me far more," said Mike. + +"I'm a poor man to-day," said Frank, "but I would give L25 to have +had Dickens with us--fancy walking up Piccadilly with him afterwards! + +"Now I must go," he said. "Lizzie is waiting for me. I'll see you +to-morrow," he cried, and drove away. + +"Just fancy having to look after her, having to attend to her wants, +having to leave a friend and return home to dine with her in a small +room! How devilish pleasant it is to be free!--to say, 'Where shall I +dine?' and to be able to answer, 'Anywhere.' But it is too early to +dine, and too late to play whist. Damn it! I don't know what to do +with myself." + +Mike watched the elegantly-dressed men who passed hurriedly to their +clubs, or drove west to dinner parties. Red clouds and dark clouds +collected and rolled overhead, and in a chill wintry breeze the +leaves of the tall trees shivered, fell, and were blown along the +pavement with sharp harsh sound. London shrouded like a widow in long +crape. + +"What is there to do? Five o'clock! After that lunch I cannot dine +before eight--three hours! Whom shall I go and see?" + +A vision of women passed through his mind, but he turned from them +all, and he said-- + +"I will go and see her." + +He had met Miss Dudley in Brighton, in a house where he had been +asked to tea. She was a small, elderly spinster with sharp features +and gray curls. She had expected him to address to her a few +commonplace remarks for politeness' sake, and then to leave her for +some attractive girl. But he had showed no wish to leave her, and +when they met again he walked by her bath-chair the entire length of +the Cliff. Miss Dudley was a cripple. She had fallen from some rocks +when a child playing on the beach, and had injured herself +irremediably. She lived with her maid in a small lodging, and being +often confined to her room for days, nearly every visitor was +welcome. Mike liked this pallid and forgotten little woman. He found +in her a strange sweetness--a wistfulness. There was poetry in her +loneliness and her ruined health. Strength, health, and beauty had +been crushed by a chance fall. But the accident had not affected the +mind, unless perhaps it had raised it into more intense sympathy with +life. And in all his various passions and neglected correspondence he +never forgot for long to answer her letters, nor did he allow a month +to pass without seeing her. And now he bought for her a great packet +of roses and a novel; and with some misgivings he chose Zola's _Page +d'Amour_. + +"I think this is all right. She'll be delighted with it, if she'll +read it." + +She would have read anything he gave, and seen no harm since it came +from him. The ailing caged bird cannot but delight in the thrilling +of the wild bird that comes to it with the freedom of the sky and +fields in its wings and song. She listened to all his stories, even +to his stories of pigeon-shooting. She knew not how to reproach him. +Her eyes fixed upon him, her gentle hand laid on the rail of her +chair, she listened while he told her of the friends he had made, and +his life in the country; its seascape and downlands, the furze where +he had shot the rabbits, the lane where he had jumped the gate. Her +pleasures had passed in thought--his in action; the world was for +him--this room for her. + +There is the long chair in which she lies nearly always; there is the +cushion on which the tired head is leaned, a small beautifully-shaped +head, and the sharp features are distinct on the dark velvet, for the +lamp is on the mantelpiece, and the light falls full on the profile. +The curtains are drawn, and the eyes animate with gratitude when Mike +enters with his roses, and after asking kindly questions he takes a +vase, and filling it with water, places the flowers therein, and sets +it on the table beside her. There is her fire--(few indeed are the +days in summer when she is without it)--the singing kettle suggests +the homely tea, and the saucepan on the hearth the invalid. There is +her bookcase, set with poetry and religion, and in one corner are the +yellow-backed French novels that Mike has given her. They are the +touches the most conclusive of reality in her life; and she often +smiles, thinking how her friends will strive to explain how they came +into her life when she is gone. + +"How good of you to come and see me! Tell me about yourself, what you +have been doing. I want to hear you talk." + +"Well, I've brought you this book; it is a lovely book--you can read +it--I think you can read it, otherwise I should not have given it to +you." + +He remained with her till seven, talking to her about hunting, +shooting, literature, and card-playing. + +"Now I must go," he said, glancing at the clock. + +"Oh, so soon," exclaimed Miss Dudley, waking from her dream; "must +you go?" + +"I'm afraid I must; I haven't dined yet." + +"And what are you going to do after dinner? You are going to play +cards." + +"How did you guess that?" + +"I can't say," she said, laughing; "I think I can often guess your +thoughts." + +And during the long drive to Piccadilly, and as he eat his sole and +drank his Pomard, he dreamed of the hands he should hold, and of the +risks he should run when the cards were bad. His brain glowed with +subtle combinations and surprises, and he longed to measure his +strength against redoubtable antagonists. The two great whist +players, Longley and Lovegrove, were there. He always felt jealous of +Lovegrove's play. Lovegrove played an admirable game, always making +the most of his cards. But there was none of that dash, and almost +miraculous flashes of imagination and decision which characterized +Mike, and Mike felt that if he had the money on, and with Longley for +a partner, he could play as he had never played before; and ignoring +a young man whom he might have rooked at ecarte, and avoiding a rich +old gentleman who loved his game of piquet, and on whom Mike was used +to rely in the old days for his Sunday dinner (he used to say the old +gentleman gave the best dinners in London; they always ran into a +tenner), he sat down at the whist-table. His partner played +wretchedly, and though he had Longley and Lovegrove against him, he +could not refrain from betting ten pounds on every rubber. He played +till the club closed, he played till he had reduced his balance at +the bank to nineteen pounds. + +Haunted by the five of clubs, which on one occasion he should have +played and did not, he walked till he came to the Haymarket. Then he +stopped. What could he do? All the life of idleness and luxury which +he had so long enjoyed faded like a dream, and the spectre of cheap +lodgings and daily journalism rose painfully distinct. He pitied the +street-sweepers, and wondered if it were possible for him to slip +down into the gutter. "When I have paid my hotel bill, I shan't have +a tenner." He thought of Mrs. Byril, but the idea did not please him, +and he remembered Frank had told him he had a cottage on the river. +He would go there. He might put up for a night or two at Hall's. + +"I will start a series of articles to-morrow. What shall it be?" An +unfortunate still stood at the corner of the street. "'Letters to a +Light o' Love!' Frank must advance me something upon them.... Those +stupid women! if they were not so witless they could rise to any +height. If I had only been a woman! ... If I had been a woman I should +have liked to have been Ninon de Lanclos." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +When Mike had paid his hotel bill, very few pounds were left for the +card-room, and judging it was not an hour in which he might tempt +fortune, he "rooked" a young man remorselessly. Having thus +replenished his pockets he turned to the whist-table for amusement. +Luck was against him; he played, defying luck, and left the club +owing eighty pounds, five of which he had borrowed from Longley. + +Next morning as he dozed, he wondered if, had he played the ten of +diamonds instead of the seven of clubs, it would have materially +altered his fortune; and from cards his thoughts wandered, till they +took root in the articles he was to write for the _Pilgrim_. He was +in Hall's spare bed-room--a large, square room, empty of all +furniture except a camp bedstead. His portmanteau lay wide open in +the middle of the floor, and a gaunt fireplace yawned amid some +yellow marbles. + +"'Darling, like a rose you hold the whole world between your lips, +and you shed its leaves in little kisses.' That will do for the +opening sentences." Then as words slipped from him he considered the +component parts of his subject. + +"The first letter is of course introductory, and I must establish +certain facts, truths which have become distorted and falsified, or +lost sight of. Addressing an ideal courtesan, I shall say, 'You must +understand that the opening sentence of this letter does not include +any part of the old reproach which has been levelled against you +since man began to love you, and that was when he ceased to be an ape +and became man. + +"'If you were ever sphinx-like and bloodthirsty, which I very much +doubt, you have changed flesh and skin, even the marrow of your +bones. In these modern days you are a kind-hearted little woman who, +to pursue an ancient metaphor, sheds the world rosewise in little +kisses; but if you did not so shed it, the world would shed itself in +tears. Your smiles and laughter are the last lights that play around +the white hairs of an aged duke; your winsome tendernesses are the +dreams of a young man who writes "pars" about you on Friday, and +dines with you on Sunday; you are an ideal in many lives which +without you would certainly be ideal-less.' Deuced good that; I +wish I had a pencil to make a note; but I shall remember it. Then +will come my historical paragraph. I shall show that it is only +by confounding courtesans with queens, and love with ambition, +that any sort of case can be made out against the former. Third +paragraph--'Courtesans are a factor in the great problem of the +circulation of wealth, etc.' It will be said that the money thus +spent is unproductive.... So much the better! For if it were given to +the poor it would merely enable them to bring more children into the +world, thereby increasing immensely the general misery of the race. +Schopenhauer will not be left out in the cold after all. Quote +Lecky,--'The courtesan is the guardian angel of our hearths and +homes, the protector of our wives and sisters.'" + +"Will you have a bath this morning, sir?" cried the laundress, +through the door. + +"Yes, and get me a chop for breakfast." + +"I shall tell her (the courtesan, not the laundress) how she may +organize the various forces latent in her and culminate in a power +which shall contain in essence the united responsibilities of church, +music-hall, and picture gallery." Mike turned over on his back and +roared with laughter. "Frank will be delighted. It will make the +fortune of the paper. Then I shall attack my subject in detail. +Dress, house, education, friends, female and male. Then the +money question. She must make a provision for the future. +Charming chapter there is to be written on the old age of the +courtesan--charities--ostentatious charities--charitable bazaars, +reception into the Roman Catholic faith." + +"Shall I bring in your hot water, sir?" screamed the laundress. + +"Yes, yes.... Shall my courtesan go on the stage? No, she shall be a +pure courtesan, she shall remain unsullied of any labour. She might +appear once on the boards;--no, no, she must remain a pure courtesan. +Charming subject! It will make a book. Charming opportunity for wit, +satire, fancy. I shall write the introductory letter after +breakfast." + +Frank was in shoaling water, and could not pay his contributors; but +Mike could get blood out of a turnip, and Frank advanced him ten +pounds on the proposed articles. Frank counted on these articles to +whip up the circulation, and Mike promised to let him have four +within the week, and left the cottage at Henley, where Frank was +living, full of dreams of work. And every morning before he got out +of bed he considered and reconsidered his subject, finding always +more than one idea, and many a witty fancy; and every day after +breakfast the work undone hung like a sword between Hall and him as +they sat talking of their friends, of art, of women, of things that +did not interest them. They hung around each other, loth yet desirous +to part; they followed each other through the three rooms, buttoning +their braces and shirt-collars. And when conversation had worn itself +out, Mike accepted any pretext to postpone the day's work. He had to +fetch ink or cigarettes. + +But he was always detained, if not by friends, by the beauty of the +gardens or the river. Never did the old dining-hall and the +staircases, balustraded--on whose gray stone a leaf, the first of +many, rustles--seem more intense and pregnant with that mystic +mournfulness which is the Thames, and which is London. The dull +sphinx-like water rolling through multitude of bricks, seemed to mark +on this wistful autumn day a more melancholy enchantment, and looking +out on the great waste of brick delicately blended with smoke and +mist, and seeing the hay-boats sailing picturesquely, and the tugs +making for Blackfriars, long lines of coal-barges in their wake, +laden so deep that the water slopped over the gunwales, he thought of +the spring morning when he had waited there for Lily. How she +persisted in his mind! Why had he not asked her to marry him instead +of striving to make her his mistress? She was too sweet to be cast +off like the others; she would have accepted him if he had asked her. +He had sacrificed marriage for self, and what had self given him? + +Mike was surprised at these thoughts, and pleased, for they proved a +certain residue of goodness in him; at all events, called into his +consideration a side of his nature which he was not wearisomely +familiar with. Then he dismissed these thoughts as he might have the +letter of a determined creditor. He could still bid them go. And +having easily rid himself of them, he noticed the porters in their +white aprons, and the flight of pigeons, the sacred birds of the +Temple, coming down from the roofs. And he loved now more than ever +Fleet Street, and the various offices where he might idle, and the +various luncheon-bars to which he might adjourn with one of the +staff, perhaps with the editor of one of the newspapers. The October +sunlight was warm and soft, greeted his face agreeably as he lounged, +stopping before every shop in which there were books or prints. +Ludgate Circus was always a favourite with him, partly because he +loved St. Paul's, partly because women assembled there; and now in +the mist, delicate and pure, rose above the town the lovely dome. + +"None but the barbarians of the Thames," thought Mike, "none other +would have allowed that most shameful bridge." + +Mike hated Simpson's. He could not abide the stolid city folk, who +devour there five and twenty saddles of mutton in an evening. He +liked better the Cock Tavern, quiet, snug, and intimate. Wedged with +a couple of chums in a comfortable corner, he shouted-- + +"Henry, get me a chop and a pint of bitter." + +There he was sure to meet a young barrister ready to talk to him, and +they returned together, swinging their sticks, happy in their +bachelordom, proud of the old inns and courts. Often they stayed to +look on the church, the church of the Knight Templars, those terrible +and mysterious knights who, with crossed legs for sign of mission, +and with long swords and kite-shaped shields, lie upon the pavement +of the church. + +One wet night, when every court and close was buried in a deep, +cloying darkness, and the church seemed a dead thing, the pathetic +stories of the windows suddenly became dreamily alive, and the organ +sighed like one sad at heart. The young men entered; and in the pomp +of the pipes, and in shadows starred by the candles, the lone +organist sat playing a fugue by Bach. + +"It is," said Mike, "like turning the pages of some precious missal, +adorned with gold thread and bedazzled with rare jewels. It is like a +poem by Edgar Allen Poe." Quelled, and in strange awe they listened, +and when the music ceased, unable at once to return to the simple +prose of their chambers, they lingered, commenting on the mock taste +of the architecture of the dining-hall, and laughing at the inflated +inscription over the doorway. + +"It is worse," said Mike, "than the Middle Temple Hall--far worse; +but I like this old colonnade, there is something so suggestive in +this old inscription in bad Latin. + + + 'Vetustissima Templariorum porticu + Igne consumpta; an 1679 + Nova haec sumptibus medii + Templie extructa an 1681 + Gulielmo Whiteloche arm + Thesauoer.'" + + +Once or twice a week Hall dined at the Cock for the purpose of +meeting his friends, whom he invited after dinner to his rooms to +smoke and drink till midnight. His welcome was so cordial that all +were glad to come. The hospitality was that which is met in all +chambers in the Temple. Coffee was made with difficulty, delay, and +uncertain result; a bottle of port was sometimes produced; of whiskey +and water there was always plenty. Every one brought his own tobacco; +and in decrepit chairs beneath dangerously-laden bookcases some six +or seven barristers enjoyed themselves in conversation, smoke, and +drink. Mike recognized how characteristically Temple was this +society, how different from the heterogeneous visitors of Temple +Gardens in the heyday of Frank's fortune. + +James Norris was a small, thin man, dark and with regular features, +clean shaven like a priest or an actor, vaguely resembling both, +inclining towards the hieratic rather than to the histrionic type. He +dressed always in black, and the closely-buttoned jacket revealed the +spareness of his body. He was met often in the evening, going to dine +at the Cock; but was rarely seen walking about the Temple in the +day-time. It was impossible to meet any one more suasive and +agreeable; his suavity was penetrating as his small dark eyes. He +lived in Elm Court, and his rooms impressed you with a sense of +cleanliness and comfort. The furniture was all in solid mahogany; +there were no knick-knacks or any lightness, and almost the only +aesthetic intentions were a few sober engravings--portraits of men in +wigs and breastplates. He took pleasure in these and also in some +first editions, containing the original plates, which, when you knew +him well, he produced from the bookcase and descanted on their value +and rarity. + +Mr. Norris had always an excellent cigar to offer you, and he pressed +you to taste of his old port, and his Chartreuse; there was whiskey +for you too, if you cared to take it, and allusion was made to its +age. But it was neither an influence nor a characteristic of his +rooms; the port wine was. If there was fruit on the sideboard, there +was also pounded sugar; and it is such detail as the pounded sugar +that announces an inveterate bachelorhood. Some men are born +bachelors. And when a man is born a bachelor, the signs unmistakable +are hardly apparent at thirty; it is not until the fortieth year is +approached that the fateful markings become recognizable. James +Norris was forty-two, and was therefore a full-fledged bachelor. He +was a bachelor in the complete equipment of his chambers. He was +bachelor in his arm-chair and his stock of wine; his hospitality was +that of a bachelor, for a man who feels instinctively that he will +never own a "house and home" constructs the materiality of his life +in chambers upon a fuller basis than the man who feels instinctively +that he will, sooner or later, exchange the perch-like existence of +his chambers for the nest-like completeness of a home in South +Kensington. + +James Norris was of an excellent county family in Essex. He had a +brother in the army, a brother in the Civil Service, and a brother in +the Diplomatic Service. He had also a brother who composed somewhat +unsuccessful waltz tunes, who borrowed money, and James thought that +his brother caused him some anxiety of mind. The eldest brother, John +Norris, lived at the family place, Halton Grange, where he stayed +when he went on the Eastern circuit. James was far too securely a +gentleman to speak much of Halton Grange; nevertheless, the flavour +of landed estate transpired in the course of conversation. He has +returned from circuit, having finished up with a partridge drive, +etc. + +James Norris was a sensualist. His sensuality was recognizable in the +close-set eyes and in the sharp prominent chin (he resembled vaguely +the portrait of Baudelaire in _Les Fleurs du Mal_); he never spoke of +his amours, but occasionally he would drop an observation, especially +if he were talking to Mike Fletcher, that afforded a sudden glimpse +of a soul touched if not tainted with erotism. But James Norris was +above all things prudent, and knew how to keep vice well in hand. + +Like another, he had had his love story, or that which in the life of +such a man might pass for a love story. He had flirted a great deal +when he was thirty, with a married woman. She had not troubled, she +had only slightly eddied, stirred with a few ripples the placidity of +a placid stream of life. In hours of lassitude it pleased him to +think that she had ruined his life. Man is ever ready to think that +his failure comes from without rather than from within. He wrote to +her every week a long letter, and spent a large part of the long +vacation in her house in Yorkshire, telling her that he had never +loved any one but her. + +James Norris was an able lawyer, and he was an able lawyer for three +reasons. First, because he was a clear-headed man of the world, who +had not allowed his intelligence to rust;--it formed part of the +routine of his life to read some pages of a standard author before +going to bed; he studied all the notorious articles that appeared in +the reviews, attempting the assimilation of the ideas which seemed to +him best in our time. Secondly, he was industrious, and if he led an +independent life, dining frequently in a tavern instead of touting +for briefs in society, and so harmed himself, such misadventure was +counterbalanced by his industry and his prudence. Thirdly, his +sweetness and geniality made him a favourite with the bench. He had +much insight into human nature, he studied it, and could detect +almost at once the two leading spirits on a jury; and he was always +aware of the idiosyncrasies of the judge he was pleading before, and +knew how to respect and to flatter them. + +Charles Stokes was the oldest man who frequented Hall's chambers, and +his venerable appearance was an anomaly in a company formed +principally of men under forty. In truth, Charles Stokes was not more +than forty-six or seven, but he explained that living everywhere, and +doing everything, had aged him beyond his years. In mind, however, he +was the youngest there, and his manner was often distressingly +juvenile. He wore old clothes which looked as if they had not been +brushed for some weeks, and his linen was of dubious cleanliness, and +about his rumpled collar there floated a half-tied black necktie. +Mike, who hated all things that reminded him of the casualness of +this human frame, never was at ease in his presence, and his eye +turned in disgust from sight of the poor old gentleman's trembling +and ossified fingers. His beard was long and almost white; he +snuffed, and smoked a clay pipe, and sat in the arm-chair which stood +in the corner beneath the screen which John Norton had left to Hall. + +He was always addressed as Mr. Stokes; Hall complimented him and kept +him well supplied with whiskey-and-water. He was listened to on +account of his age--that is to say, on account of his apparent age, +and on account of his gentleness. Harding had described him as one +who talked learned nonsense in sweetly-measured intonations. But +although Harding ridiculed him, he often led him into conversation, +and listened with obvious interest, for Mr. Stokes had drifted +through many modes and manners of life, and had in so doing acquired +some vague knowledge. + +He had written a book on the ancient religions of India, which he +called the _Cradleland of Arts and Creeds_, and Harding, ever on the +alert to pick a brain however poor it might be, enticed him into +discussion in which frequent allusion was made to Vishnu and Siva. + +Yes, drifted is the word that best expresses Mr. Stokes' passage +through life--he had drifted. He was one of the many millions who +live without a fixed intention, without even knowing what they +desire; and he had drifted because in him strength and weakness stood +at equipoise; no defect was heavy enough for anchor, nor was there +any quality large enough for sufficient sail; he had drifted from +country to country, from profession to profession, whither winds and +waves might bear him. + +"Of course I'm a failure," was a phrase that Mr. Stokes repeated with +a mild, gentle humour, and without any trace of bitterness. He spoke +of himself with the naive candour of a docile school-boy, who has +taken up several subjects for examination and been ploughed in them +all. For Mr. Stokes had been to Oxford, and left it without taking a +degree. Then he had gone into the army, and had proved himself a +thoroughly inefficient soldier, and more than any man before or +after, had succeeded in rousing the ire of both adjutant and colonel. +It was impossible to teach him any drill; what he was taught to-day +he forgot to-morrow; when the general came down to inspect, the +confusion he created in the barrack-yard had proved so complex, that +for a second it had taxed the knowledge of the drill-sergeant to get +the men straight again. + +Mr. Stokes was late at all times and all occasions: he was late for +drill, he was late for mess, he was late for church; and when sent +for he was always found in his room, either learning a part or +writing a play. His one passion was theatricals; and wherever the +regiment was stationed, he very soon discovered those who were +disposed to get up a performance of a farce. + +When he left the army he joined the Indian bar, and there he applied +himself in his own absent-minded fashion to the study of Sanscrit, +neglecting Hindustani, which would have been of use to him in his +profession. Through India, China, and America he had drifted. In New +York he had edited a newspaper; in San Francisco he had lectured, and +he returned home with an English nobleman who had engaged him as +private secretary. + +When he passed out of the nobleman's service he took chambers in the +Temple, and devoted his abundant leisure to writing his memoirs, and +the pleasantest part of his life began. The Temple suited him +perfectly, its Bohemianism was congenial to him, the library was +convenient, and as no man likes to wholly cut himself adrift from his +profession, the vicinity of the law courts, and a modicum of legal +conversation in the evening, sufficed to maintain in his +absent-minded head the illusion that he was practising at the bar. +His chambers were bare and dreary, unadorned with spoils from India +or China. Mr. Stokes retained nothing; he had passed through life +like a bird. He had drifted, and all things had drifted from him; he +did not even possess a copy of his _Cradleland of Arts and Creeds_. +He had lost all except a small property in Kent, and appeared to be +quite alone in the world. + +Mr. Stokes talked rarely of his love affairs, and his allusions were +so partial that nothing exact could be determined about him. It was, +however, noticed that he wore a gold bracelet indissolubly fastened +upon his right wrist, and it was supposed that an Indian princess had +given him this, and that a goldsmith had soldered it upon him in her +presence, as she lay on her death-bed. It was noticed that a young +girl came to see him at intervals, sometimes alone, sometimes +accompanied by her aunt. Mr. Stokes made no secret of this young +person, and he spoke of her as his adopted daughter. Mr. Stokes dined +at a theatrical club. All men liked him; he was genial and harmless. + +Mr. Joseph Silk was the son of a London clergyman. He was a tall, +spare young man, who was often met about the Temple, striding towards +his offices or the library. He was comically careful not to say +anything that might offend, and nervously concerned to retreat from +all persons and things which did not seem to him to offer +possibilities of future help; and his assumed geniality and +good-fellowship hung about him awkwardly, like the clothes of a +broad-chested, thick-thighed man about miserable limbs. For some time +Silk had been seriously thinking of cutting himself adrift from all +acquaintanceship with Hall. He had, until now, borne with his +acquaintanceship because Hall was connected with a society journal +that wrote perilously near the law of libel; several times the paper +had been threatened with actions, but had somehow, much to Silk's +chagrin, managed to escape. All the actionable paragraphs had been +discussed with Silk; on each occasion Hall had come down to his +chambers for advice, and he felt sure that he would be employed in +the case when it did come off. But unfortunately this showed no signs +of accomplishment. Silk read the paper every week for the paragraph +that was to bring him fame; he would have given almost anything to be +employed "in a good advertising case." But he had noticed that +instead of becoming more aggressive and personal, that week by week +the newspaper was moderating its tone. In the last issue several +paragraphs had caught his eye, which could not be described otherwise +than as complimentary; there were also several new pages of +advertisements; and these robbed him of all hope of an action. He +counted the pages, "twelve pages of advertisements--nothing further +of a questionable character will go into that paper," thought he, and +forthwith fell to considering Hall's invitation to "come in that +evening, if he had nothing better to do." He had decided that he +would not go, but at the last moment had gone, and now, as he sat +drinking whiskey-and-water, he glanced round the company, thinking it +might injure him if it became known that he spent his evenings there, +and he inwardly resolved he would never again be seen in Hall's +rooms. + +Silk had been called to the bar about seven years. The first years he +considered he had wasted, but during the last four he applied himself +to his profession. He had determined "to make a success of life," +that was how he put it to himself. He had, during the last four +years, done a good deal of "devilling"; he had attended at the Old +Bailey watching for "soups" with untiring patience. But lately, +within the last couple of years, he had made up his mind that waiting +for "soups" at the Old Bailey was not the way to fame or fortune. His +first idea of a path out of his present circumstances was through +Hall and the newspaper; but he had lately bethought himself of an +easier and wider way, one more fruitful of chances and beset with +prizes. This broad and easy road to success which he had lately begun +to see, wound through his father's drawing-room. London clergymen +have, as a rule, large salaries and abundant leisure, and young Silk +determined to turn his father's leisure to account. The Reverend Silk +required no pressing. "Show me what line to take, and I will take +it," said he; and young Silk, knowing well the various firms of +solicitors that were dispensing such briefs as he could take, +instructed his father when and where he should exercise his tea-table +agreeabilities, and forthwith the reverend gentleman commenced his +social wrigglings. There were teas and dinners, and calls, and lying +without end. Over the wine young Silk cajoled the senior member of +the firm, and in the drawing-room, sitting by the wife, he alluded to +his father's philanthropic duties, which he relieved with such +sniggering and pruriency as he thought the occasion demanded. + +About six months ago, Mr. Joseph Silk had accidentally learnt, in the +treasurer's offices, that the second floor in No. 5, Paper Buildings +was unoccupied. He had thought of changing his chambers, but a second +floor in Paper Buildings was beyond his means. But two or three days +after, as he was walking from his area in King's Bench Walk to the +library, he suddenly remembered that the celebrated advocate, Sir +Arthur Haldane, lived on the first floor in Paper Buildings. Now at +his father's house, or in one of the houses his father frequented, he +might meet Sir Arthur; indeed, a meeting could easily be arranged. +Here Mr. Silk's sallow face almost flushed with a little colour, and +his heart beat as his little scheme pressed upon his mind. Dreading +an obstacle, he feared to allow the thought to formulate; but after a +moment he let it slip, and it said--"Now if I were to take the second +floor, I should often meet Sir Arthur on the doorstep and staircase. +What an immense advantage it would be to me when Stoggard and Higgins +learnt that I was on terms of friendship with Sir Arthur. I know as a +positive fact that Stoggard and Higgins would give anything to get +Sir Arthur for some of their work.... But the rent is very heavy in +Paper Buildings. I must speak to father about it." A few weeks after, +Mr. Joseph transferred his furniture to No. 2, Paper Buildings; and +not long after he had the pleasure of meeting Sir Arthur at dinner. + +Mr. Silk's love affairs were neither numerous nor interesting. He had +spent little of his time with women, and little of his money upon +women, and his amativeness had led him into no wilder exploit than +the seduction of his laundress's daughter, by whom he had had a +child. Indeed, it had once been whispered that the mother, with the +child in her arms, had knocked at King's Bench Walk and had insisted +on being admitted. Having not the slightest knowledge or perception +of female nature, he had extricated himself with difficulty from the +scandal by which he was menaced, and was severely mulcted before the +girl was induced to leave London. About every three months she wrote +to him, and these letters were read with horror and burnt in +trembling haste; for Mr. Joseph Silk was now meditating for +matrimonial and legal purposes one of the daughters of one of the +solicitors he had met in Paper Buildings, and being an exceedingly +nervous, ignorant, and unsympathetic man in all that did not concern +his profession, was vastly disturbed at every echo of his +indiscretion. + +Harding, in reply to a question as to what he thought of Silk, said-- + +"What do I think of Silk? Cotton back" ... and every one laughed, +feeling the intrinsic truth of the judgement. + +Mr. George Cooper was Mr. Joseph Silk's friend. Cooper consulted Silk +on every point. Whenever he saw a light in Silk's chambers he +thrilled a little with anticipation of the pleasant hour before him, +and they sat together discussing the abilities of various eminent +judges and barristers. Silk told humorous anecdotes of the judges; +Cooper was exercised concerning their morality, and enlarged +anxiously on the responsibility of placing a man on the Bench without +having full knowledge of his private life. Silk listened, puffing at +his pipe, and to avoid committing himself to an opinion, asked Cooper +to have another glass of port. Before they parted allusion was made +to the law-books that Cooper was writing--Cooper was always bringing +out new editions of other people's books, and continually exposed the +bad law they wrote in his conversation. He had waited his turn like +another for "soups" at the Bailey, and like another had grown weary +of waiting; besides, the meditative cast of his mind enticed him +towards chamber practice and away from public pleading before judge +and jury. Silk sought "a big advertising case"; he desired the +excitement of court, and, though he never refused any work, he +dreaded the lonely hours necessary for the perfect drawing up of a +long indictment. Cooper was very much impressed with Silk's +abilities; he thought him too hard and mechanical, not sufficiently +interested in the science of morals; but these defects of character +were forgotten in his homage to his friend's worldly shrewdness. For +Cooper was unendowed with worldly shrewdness, and, like all dreamers, +was attracted by a mind which controlled while he might only attempt +to understand. Cooper's aspirations towards an ideal tickled Silk's +mind as it prepared its snares. Cooper often invited Silk to dine +with him at the National Liberal Club; Silk sometimes asked Cooper to +dine with him at the Union. Silk and Cooper were considered alike, +and there were many points in which their appearances coincided. +Cooper was the shorter man of the two, but both were tall, thin, +narrow, and sallow complexioned; both were essentially clean, +respectable, and middle-class. + +Cooper was the son of a Low Church bishop who had gained his mitre by +temperance oratory, and what his Lordship was in the cathedral, +Cooper was in the suburban drawing-rooms where radical politics and +the woman's cause were discussed. When he had a brief he brought it +to the library to show it; he almost lived in the library. He arrived +the moment it was opened, and brought a packet of sandwiches so as +not to waste time going out to lunch. His chambers were furnished +without taste, but the works of Comte and Spencer showed that he had +attempted to think; and the works of several socialistic writers +showed that he had striven to solve the problem of human misery. On +the table were several novels by Balzac, which conversation with +Harding had led him to purchase and to read. He likewise possessed a +few volumes of modern poetry, but he freely confessed that he +preferred Pope, Dryden, and Johnson; and it was impossible to bring +him to understand that De Quincey was more subtle and suggestive than +the author of London. + +Generally our souls are made of one conspicuous modern mental aspect; +but below this aspect we are woven and coloured by the spirit of some +preceding century, our chance inheritance, and Cooper was a sort of +product of the pedantry of Johnson and the utilitarian mysticism of +Comte. Perhaps the idea nearest to Cooper's heart was "the woman's +cause." The misery and ignominy of human life had affected him, and +he dreamed of the world's regeneration through women; and though well +aware that Comte and Spencer advocate the application of experience +in all our many mental embarrassments, he failed to reconsider +his beliefs in female virtue, although frequently pressed to do +so by Mike. Some personal animosity had grown out of their desire +to convince each other. Cooper had once even meditated Mike's +conversion, and Mike never missed an opportunity of telling some +story which he deemed destructive of Cooper's faith. His faith was +to him what a microscope is to a scientist, and it enabled him to +discover the finest characteristics in the souls of bar-girls, chorus +girls, and prostitutes; and even when he fell, and they fell, his +belief in their virtue and the nobility of their womanly instincts +remained unshaken. + +Mike had just finished a most racy story concerning his first +introduction to a certain countess. Cooper had listened in silence, +but when Mike turned at the end of his tale and asked him what he +thought of his conduct, Cooper rose from his chair. + +"I think you behaved like a blackguard." + +In a moment Mike was aware he had put himself in the wrong--the story +about the countess could not be told except to his destruction in any +language except his own, and he must therefore forbear to strike +Cooper and swallow the insult. + +"You ass, get out; I can't quarrel with you on such a subject." + +The embarrassment was increased by Cooper calling to Silk and asking +if he were coming with him. The prudent Silk felt that to stay was to +signify his approval of Mike's conduct in the case of the indiscreet +countess. To leave with Cooper was to write himself down a prig, +expose himself to the sarcasm of several past masters in the art of +gibing, and to make in addition several powerful enemies. But the +instinct not to compromise himself in any issue did not desert him, +and rushing after Cooper he attempted the peace-maker. He knew the +attempt would mean no more than some hustling in the doorway, and +some ineffectual protestation, and he returned a few minutes after to +join in the ridicule heaped upon the unfortunate Cooper, and to vow +inwardly that this was his last evening in Bohemia. + +By the piano, smoking a clay pipe, there sat a large, rough, strong +man. His beard was bristly and flame-coloured, his face was crimson +and pimply; lion-like locks hung in profusion about the collar of his +shabby jacket. His linen was torn and thin; crumpled was the necktie, +and nearly untied, and the trousers were worn and frayed, and the +boots heavy. He looked as if he could have carried a trunk +excellently well, but as that thought struck you your eyes fell upon +his hands, which were the long, feminine-shaped hands generally found +in those of naturally artistic temperament, nearly always in those +who practise two or more of the arts. Sands affected all the arts. +Enumerate: He played snatches of Bach on the violin, on the piano, +and on the organ; he composed fragments for all three instruments. He +painted little landscapes after (a long way after) the manner of +Corot, of whom he could talk until the small hours in the morning if +an occasional drink and cigar were forthcoming. He modelled little +statuettes in wax, cupids and nymphs, and he designed covers for +books. He could do all these things a little, and not stupidly, +although inefficiently. He had been a volunteer, and therefore wrote +on military subjects, and had on certain occasions been permitted to +criticize our naval defences and point out the vices and shortcomings +in our military system in the leading evening papers. He was +generally seen with a newspaper under his arm going towards Charing +Cross or Fleet Street. He never strayed further west than Charing +Cross, unless he was going to a "picture show," and there was no +reason why he should pass Ludgate Circus, for further east there were +neither newspapers nor restaurants. He was quite without vanity, and +therefore without ambition, Buddha was never more so, not even after +attaining the Nirvana. A picture show in Bond Street, a half-crown +dinner at Simpson's, or the Rainbow, coffee and cigars after, was all +that he desired; give him that, and he was a pleasant companion who +would remain with you until you turned him out, or in charity, for he +was often homeless, allowed him to sleep on your sofa. + +Sands was not a member of the Temple, but Hall's rooms were ever a +refuge to the weary--there they might rest, and there was there ever +for them a drink and a mouthful of food. And there Sands had met the +decayed barrister who held the rooms opposite; which, although he had +long ceased to occupy, and had no use for, he still wished to own, if +he could do so without expense, and this might be done by letting two +rooms, and reserving one for himself. + +The unwary barrister, believing in the solvency of whoever he met at +Hall's, intrusted his chambers to Sands, without demanding the rent +in advance. A roof to sleep under had been the chief difficulty in +Sands' life. He thought not at all of a change of clothes, and clean +linen troubled him only slightly. Now almost every want seemed +provided for. Coals he could get from Hall, also occasional +half-crowns; these sufficed to pay for his breakfast; a dinner he +could generally "cadge," and if he failed to do so, he had long ago +learnt to go without. It was hard not to admire his gentleness, his +patience and forbearance. If you refused to lend him money he showed +no faintest trace of anger. Hall's friends were therefore delighted +that the chambers opposite were let on conditions so favourable to +Sands; they anticipated with roars of laughter the scene that would +happen at the close of the year, and looked forward to seeing, at +least during the interim, their friend in clean clothes, and reading +"his copy" in the best journals. But the luxury of having a fixed +place to sleep in, stimulated, not industry, but vicious laziness of +the most ineradicable kind. Henceforth Sands abandoned all effort to +help himself. Uncombed, unwashed, in dirty clothes, he lay in an +arm-chair through all the morning, rising from time to time to mess +some paint into the appearance of some incoherent landscape, or to +rasp out some bars of Beethoven on his violin. + +"Never did I imagine any one so idle; he is fairly putrid with +idleness," said Hall after a short visit. "Would you believe it, he +has only ninepence for sole shield between him and starvation. The +editor of the _Moon_ has just telegraphed for the notice he should +have written of the Academy, and the brute is just sending a +'wire'--'nothing possible this week.' Did any one ever hear of such a +thing? To-night he won't dine, and he could write the notice in an +hour." + +Besides having contributed to almost every paper in London, from the +_Times_ downwards, Sands had held positions as editor and sub-editor +of numerous journals. But he had lost each one in turn, and was +beginning to understand that he was fated to die of poverty, and was +beginning to grow tired of the useless struggle. No one was better +organized to earn his living than Peter Sands, and no one failed more +lamentably. Had fortune provided him with a dinner at Simpson's, a +cigar and a cup of coffee, he would have lived as successfully as +another. But our civilization is hard upon those who are only +conversationalists, it does not seem to have taken them into account +in its scheme, and, in truth, Peter could not do much more than +aestheticize agreeably. + +Paul L'Estrange admitted freely that he was not fitted for a lawyer; +but even before he explained that he considered himself one of those +beings who had slipped into a hole that did not fit them, it was +probable that you had already begun to consider the circumstances +that had brought him to choose the law as a profession; for his vague +intelligence "where nothing was and all things seemed," lay mirrored +in his mild eyes like a landscape in a pool. Over such a partial and +meditative a mind as L'Estrange's, the Temple may exercise a +destructive fascination; and since the first day, when a boy he had +walked through the closes gathering round the church, and had heard +of the knights, had seen the old dining-hall with its many +inscriptions, he had never ceased to dream of the Temple--that relic +of the past, saved with all its traditions out of the ruin of time; +and the memory of his cousin's chambers, and the association and +mutuality of the life of the Temple, the picturesqueness of the wigs +and gowns passing, and the uncommonness of it all had taken root and +grown, overshadowing other ideals, and when the time came for him to +choose a profession, no choice was open to him but the law, for the +law resided in the Temple. + +Soon after his father died, the family property was sold and the +family scattered; some went to Australia, some to Canada; but +L'Estrange had inherited a hundred a year from a grand-aunt, and he +lived on that, and what he made by writing in the newspapers, for of +course no one had thought of intrusting him with a brief; and what he +made by journalism varied from a hundred and fifty to two hundred and +fifty a year. Whenever a new scare arose he was busy among blue-books +in the library. + +L'Estrange loved to dine at the Cock tavern with a party of men from +the inn, and to invite them to his chambers to take coffee +afterwards. And when they had retired, and only one remained, he +would say, "What a nice fellow so-and-so is; you do meet a nice lot +of fellows in the Temple, don't you?" It seemed almost sufficient +that a man should belong to the Temple for L'Estrange to find him +admirable. The dinners in hall were especially delightful. Between +the courses he looked in admiration on the portraits and old oak +carvings, and the armorial bearings, and would tell how one bencher +had been debarred from election as treasurer because he had, on three +occasions, attended dinner without partaking of any food. Such an +insult to the kitchen could not be forgiven. L'Estrange was full of +such stories, and he relished their historical flavour as a gourmet +an unusually successful piece of cooking. He regarded the Temple and +its associations with love. + +When he had friends to dinner in his rooms the dinner was always +brought from the hall; he ordered it himself in the large spacious +kitchen, which he duly admired, and prying about amid the various +meats, he chose with care, and when told that what he desired could +not be obtained that day, he continued his search notwithstanding. He +related that on one occasion he discovered a greengage pie, after +many assurances that there was no such thing in the kitchen. If he +was with a friend he laid his hand on his shoulder, and pointing out +an inscription, he said, "Now one thing I notice about the Temple is +that never is an occasion missed of putting up an inscription; and +note the legal character of the inscriptions, how carefully it is +explained, that, for instance, the cloisters, although they are for +the use of the Inner as well as the Middle Temple, yet it was the +Middle Temple that paid to have them put up, and therefore owns the +property." L'Estrange always spoke of the gardens as "our gardens," +of the church as "our church." He was an authority on all that +related to the Temple, and he delighted in a friend in whom he might +confide; and to walk about the courts with Hall or Sands, stopping +now and then to note some curious piece of sculpture or date, and +forthwith to relate an anecdote that brought back some of the +fragrance and colour of old time, and to tell how he intended to work +such curious facts into the book he was writing on the Temple, was +the essence and the soul of this dreamy man's little life. + +Saturday night is the night of dalliance in the Temple, and not +unfrequently on Sunday morning, leaving a lady love, L'Estrange would +go to church--top hat, umbrella, and prayer-book--and having a sense +of humour, he was amused by the incongruity. + +"I have left the accursed thing behind me," he once said to Mr. +Collier, and by such facetiousness had seriously annoyed the immense +and most staid Mr. Collier. + +A gaunt, hollow-eyed man was he, worn to a thread by diabetes; and to +keep the disease in check, strictly dieted. His appearance was so +suggestive of illness, that whenever he was present the conversation +always turned on what he might eat and what he must refrain from +touching. A large, gray-skinned man, handsome somewhat like a figure +of Melancholy carved out of limestone. Since he had left Oxford, +where he had taken a double first, he had failed--at the bar, in +literature, and in love. It was said that he had once written an +absurd letter asking a lady, who hoped to marry a duke, to go to +South America with him. This letter had been his only adventure. + +He was like a bookcase, a store of silent learning, with this +difference--from the bookcase much may be extracted, from Mr. Edmund +Collier nothing. He reminded you of a dry well, a London fog, an +abandoned quarry, the desert of Sahara, and the North Pole; of all +dull and lugubrious things he seemed the type. Nature had not +afflicted him with passions nor any original thought, he therefore +lived an exemplary existence, his mind fortified with exemplary +opinions, doctrines, and old saws. + +"I wonder if he is alive," Mike had once said. + +"_He, he, tout au plus_," Harding had replied, sardonically. + +Collier was now learning Sanscrit and writing an article for the +_Quarterly_. L'Estrange used, as he said, "to dig at him," and after +many exhausting efforts brought up interesting facts to the effect +that he had just finished his treatise on the Greek participle, and +was about to launch a volume of verses mainly addressed to children. + +Collier had once possessed considerable property, but he had invested +some in a newspaper of which he was editor, and he had squandered +much in vague speculation. From the account he gave of his losses it +was difficult to decide whether he had been moved by mercenary or +charitable temptations. Now only the merest competence remained. He +lived in a small garret where no solicitor had penetrated, studying +uninteresting literatures, dimly interested in all that the world did +not care for. He lived in the gloom of present failure, embittered by +the memory of past successes, wearied with long illness, and +therefore constrained to live like a hermit, never appearing anywhere +except in Hall's rooms. + +Even Mr. Horace Baird, the recluse of the Temple, was sometimes met +in Hall's chambers. When he lifted his hat, the white locks growing +amid the black, magnificent masses of hair caught the eye, and set +the mind thinking on the brevity of youth, or wondering what +ill-fortune had thus done the work of time. A passing glance told you +that he was unsuccessful in his profession and unfortunate in his +life, and if you spoke to him, an affected gaiety of manner confirmed +the truth of the first impression. Near him sat a patriarchal +barrister who had travelled in the colonies, had had political +appointments, and in vague hopes of further political appointments +professed advanced views, which he endeavoured to redeem with +flavourless humour. There were also two young men who shared chambers +and took in pupils. Fine tales their laundress told of the state of +their sitting-room in the morning, the furniture thrown about, the +table-cloth drenched in whiskey. + +There was a young man whose hobby was dress and chorus girls. There +was a young man whose hobby was pet birds; he talked about the +beautiful South American bird he had just bought, and he asked you to +come and see it taking its bath in the morning. Several persons were +writing law-books, which their authors hoped would rival _Chitty on +Contracts_. + +The Temple, like a fatherland, never loses its influence over its +children. He who has lived in the Temple will return to the Temple. +All things are surrendered for the Temple. All distances are +traversed to reach the Temple. The Temple is never forgotten. The +briefless barrister, who left in despair and became Attorney-General +of New South Wales, grows homesick, surrenders his position, and +returns. The young squire wearies in his beautiful country house, and +his heart is fixed in the dingy chambers, which he cannot relinquish, +and for which wealth cannot compensate him. Even the poor clerks do +not forget the Temple, and on Saturday afternoons they prowl about +their old offices, and often give up lucrative employments. They are +drawn by the Temple as by a magnet, and must live again in the shadow +of the old inns. The laundresses' daughters pass into wealthy +domesticities, but sooner or later they return to drudge again in the +Temple. + +"How awfully jolly!--I do enjoy an evening like this," said Mike, +when the guests had departed. + +At that moment a faint footstep was heard on the landing; Hall rushed +to see who was there, and returned with two women. They explained +that they wanted a drink. Mike pressed them to make themselves at +home, and Hall opened another bottle. + +"How comfortable you bachelors are here by yourselves," said one. + +"I should think we are just; no fear of either of us being such fools +as to break up our home by getting married," replied Mike. + +Sometimes Mike and Hall returned early from the restaurant, and wrote +from eight to eleven; then went out for a cup of coffee and a prowl, +beating up the Strand for women. They stayed out smoking and talking +at the corners till the streets were empty. Once they sent a couple +of harlots to rouse a learned old gentleman who lived in Brick Court, +and with bated breath listened from the floor beneath to the dialogue +above. + +But to continue this life, which he enjoyed so intensely that he had +even lost his desire to gamble, Mike was forced to borrow. Knowing +how such things are bruited about, Mike chose to go to a woman rather +than to any of his men friends. Mrs. Byril lent him twenty pounds, +wherefore he thought it necessary to lecture Hall for one whole +evening on the immorality of ever accepting money from women; and he +remained for weeks in idleness, smoking and drinking in restaurants +and bar rooms, deaf to Frank's many pleadings for "copy." At last he +roused a little, and feeling he could do nothing in London, proposed +to come and stay with Frank in his cottage at Marlow, and there write +the letters. + +It was a bright October afternoon, Frank had gone to the station, and +Lizzie, to appease the baby, had unbuttoned her dress. The little +servant-girl who assisted with the house-work was busy in the +kitchen; for the fatted calf had been killed--that is to say, a pair +of soles, a steak, and a partridge were in course of preparation. +Lizzie thought of the partridge. She had omitted soup from the dinner +so that she might herself see to the fish; the steak, unless +something quite unforeseen occurred, Annie would be able to manage, +but the partridge! Lizzie determined she would find an excuse for +leaving the room; Frank would not like it, but anything would be +better than that the bird should appear in a raw or cindery +condition, which would certainly be the case if she did not see to +it. The jam-pudding was boiling and would be taken out of the pot at +a fixed time. And with baby upon her breast, she watched Sally scrape +and clean the fish and beat the steak; then, hearing the front door +open, she buttoned her dress, put baby in his cot, and went to meet +her visitor. Mike said he had never seen her looking so well; but in +truth he thought she had grown fat and coarse; and in half an hour he +had realized all the detail of their misfortune. He guessed that she +had helped to cook the dinner, that the wine had come from the +public-house, that they had given up their room to him, and were +sleeping in some small cupboard-like place at the end of the passage. + +Of the many various unpleasantnesses of married life which had +crowded into his consciousness since he had been in the cottage, this +impressed him the most. He went to sleep thinking of it, and when he +sat down to write next morning (a little study had been arranged for +him), it was the first thought that stirred in him. + +"How fearfully unpleasant!--and after having been married for nearly +two years! I could not do it. If I were married--even if I were to +marry Lily, I should insist on having separate rooms. Even with +separate rooms marriage is intolerable. How much better to see her +sometimes, sigh for her from afar, and so preserve one's ideal. +Married! One day I should be sure to surprise her washing herself; +and I know of no more degrading spectacle than that of a woman +washing herself over a basin. Degas painted it once. I'd give +anything to have that picture." + +But he could not identify Lily as forming part of that picture; his +imagination did not help him, and he could only see her staid and +gracious, outside all the gross materialism of life. He felt that +Lily would never lose her dignity and loveliness, which in her were +one, and in his mind she ever stood like a fair statue out of reach +of the mud and the contumely of the common street; and ashamed, an +unsuccessful iconoclast, he could not do otherwise than kneel and +adore. + +And when at the end of a week he received an invitation to a ball +where he thought she would be, he must perforce obey, and go with +tremulous heart. She was engaged in a quadrille that passed to and +fro beneath blue tapestry curtains, and he noticed the spray of +lilies of the valley in her bodice, so emblematic did they seem of +her. Beneath the blue curtain she stood talking to her partner after +the dance; and he did not go to speak to her, but remained looking. +They only danced together twice; and that evening was realized by him +in a strangely intense and durable perception of faint scent and +fluent rhythm. The sense of her motion, of her frailness, lingered in +his soul ever afterwards. And he remembered ever afterwards the +moments he spent with her in a distant corner--the palm, the gold of +the screen, the movement of her white skirt as she sat down. All was, +as it were, bitten upon his soul--exquisite etchings! Even the pauses +in the conversation were remembered; pauses full of mute affection; +pauses full of thought unexpressed, falling in sharp chasms of +silence. In such hours and in such pauses is the essence of our +lives, the rest is adjunct and decoration. He watched, fearing each +man that looked through the doorway might claim her for the next +dance. His thought swept through his soul edgeways. Did he love her? +Would he love her always? And he was conscious of the contrast his +speech presented, to the tumult that raged and shrieked within him. +Yet he couldn't speak the word, and he cursed his little cowardice. + +The ball came and went--a little year with its four seasons; and when +in the hall he stood by her, helping her with her cloak (silk and +gray fur, folding the delicate line of the neck), and became aware +that even those last moments did not hold the word his soul was +whispering, he cursed his cowardice, and, weary of himself, he turned +down the dark street, feeling that he had lost his life. + +"Now all is ended," he thought, "I'm like a convict who attempted +escape and has been brought back and yoked again in the sweaty and +manacled gang; and I must continue in and bear with this life of +gross sensuality and dirty journalism, 'which I have borne and yet +must bear'--a wearisome repetition of what has been done and re-done +a thousand times, 'till death-like sleep shall steal on me,' and I +may hear some horrible lodging-house keeper 'breathe o'er my dying +brain a last monotony.' And in various degradations my intellect will +suffer, will decay; but with her refining and elevating influence, I +might be a great writer. It is certain that the kernel of Art is +aspiration for higher things; at all events, I should lead a cleanly +life. If I were married to her I should not write this book. It +certainly is a disgraceful book; and yet it amuses me." + +His thoughts paused, then an idea came, and with his pen he pursued +it and the quickly rising flight which followed for a couple of +hours. + +"Why should I not write and ask her to marry me?" He smiled at the +thought, but the thought was stronger than he, and he went to bed +thinking of her, and he rose thinking of her; and the desire to write +and tell her that he loved her and wanted her for wife persisted; he +shook it off a dozen times, but it grew more and more poignant, until +it settled on his heart, a lancinating pain which neither work nor +pleasure could remove. Daily he grew feebler, losing at each effort +some power of resistance. One day he took up the pen to write the +irrevocable. But the reality of the ink and paper frightened him. +"Will you be my wife?" seemed to him silly. Even in this crisis +self-esteem lay uppermost in his mind; and he wrote many letters +before he felt certain he had guarded himself against ridicule. At +last he folded up a sheet upon which he had written--"Dearest Lily, +you are the only woman I may love; will you allow me to love you for +ever?" He put this into an envelope and directed it; nothing remained +but to post it. The clock told him he could catch the post if he +started away at once, but he drew back, frightened at the reality of +the post-office, and decided to sleep over his letter. + +The night was full of Lily--fair, chaste dreams, whence he rose as +from a bath clothed in the samite of pure delight. While dressing he +felt sure that marriage--marriage with Lily must be the realization +of such dreams, and that it would be folly not to post his letter. +Still, it might be as well to hear the opinion of one who had taken +the important step, and after breakfast he drew Frank into +conversation about Lizzie. + +"I am quite happy," he said. "Lizzie is a good wife, and I love her +better to-day than the day I married her; but the price I paid for +her was too high. Mount Rorke has behaved shamefully, and so has +everybody but you. I never see any of the old lot now. Snowdown came +once to dine about a year ago, but I never go anywhere where Lizzie +is not asked. Mount Rorke has only written once since my marriage, +and then it was to say he never wished to see me again. The next I +heard was the announcement of his marriage." + +"So he has married again," said Mike, looking at Frank, and then he +thought--"So you who came from the top shall go to the bottom! Shall +he who came from the bottom go to the top?" + +"I have not heard yet of a child. I have tried to find out if one is +expected; but what does it matter?--Mount Rorke wouldn't give me a +penny-piece to save me from starvation, and I should have time to +starve a good many times before he goes off the hooks. I don't mind +telling you I'm about as hard up as a man possibly can be. I owe +three quarters' rent for my rooms in Temple Gardens, nearly two +hundred pounds. The Inn is pressing me, and I can't get three hundred +for my furniture, and I'm sure I paid more than fifteen hundred for +what there is there." + +"Why don't you sell a share in the paper?" + +"I have sold a small part of it, a very small part of it, a fifth, +and there is a fellow called Thigh--you know the fellow, he has +edited every stupid weekly that has appeared and disappeared for the +last ten years--well, he has got hold of a mug, and by all accounts a +real mug, one of the right sort, a Mr. Beacham Brown. Mr. Brown wants +a paper, and has commissioned Thigh to buy him one. Thigh wants me to +sell a half share in the _Pilgrim_ for a thousand, but I shall have +to give Thigh back four hundred; and I shall--that is to say, I shall +if I agree to Thigh's terms--become assistant editor at a salary of +six pounds a week; two pounds a week of which I shall have to hand +over to Thigh, who comes in as editor at a salary of ten pounds a +week. All the staff will be engaged on similar conditions. Thigh is +'working' Beacham Brown beautifully--he won't have a sixpence to +bless himself with when Thigh has done with him." + +"And are you going to accept Thigh's terms?" + +"Not if I can possibly help it. If your articles send up the +circulation and my new advertising agent can do the West End +tradesmen for a few more advertisements, I shall stand off and wait +for better terms. My new advertising agent is a wonder, the finest in +Christendom. The other day a Bond Street jeweller who advertises with +us came into my office. He said, 'Sir, I have come to ask you if you +circulate thirty thousand copies a week.' 'Well,' I said, 'perhaps +not quite.' 'Then, sir,' he replied, 'you will please return me my +money; I gave your agent my advertisement upon his implicit assurance +that you circulated thirty thousand a week.' I said there must be +some mistake; Mr. Tomlinson happens to be in the office, if you'll +allow me I'll ask him to step down-stairs. I touched the bell, and +told the boy to ask Mr. Tomlinson to step into the office. 'Mr. +Tomlinson,' I said, 'Mr. Page says that he gave you his advertisement +on our implicit assurance that we circulated thirty thousand copies +weekly. Did you tell him that?' Quite unabashed, Tomlinson answered, +'I told Mr. Page that we had more than thirty thousand readers a +week. We send to ten line regiments and five cavalry regiments--each +regiment consists of, let us say, eight hundred. We send to every +club in London, and each club has on an average a thousand members. +Why, sir,' exclaimed Tomlinson, turning angrily on the jeweller, 'I +might have said that we had a hundred thousand readers and I should +have still been under the mark!' The jeweller paid for his +advertisement and went away crestfallen. Such a man as Tomlinson is +the very bone and muscle of a society journal." + +"And the nerves too," said Mike. + +"Better than the contributors who want to write about the relation +between art and morals." + +The young men laughed mightily. + +"And what will you do," said Mike, "if you don't settle with Thigh?" + +"Perhaps my man will be able to pick up another advertisement or two; +perhaps your articles may send up the circulation. One thing is +certain, things can't go on as they are; at this rate I shall not be +able to carry the paper on another six months." + +The conversation fell, and Mike remembered the letter in his side +pocket; it lay just over his heart. Frank's monetary difficulties had +affected his matrimonial aspirations. "For if the paper 'bursts up' +how shall I live, much less support a wife? Live! I shall always be +able to live, but to support a wife is quite another matter. Perhaps +Lily has some money. If she had five hundred a year I would marry +her; but I don't know if she has a penny. She must have some, a few +thousands--enough to pay the first expenses. To get a house and get +into the house would cost a thousand." A cloud passed over his face. +The householder, the payer of rates and taxes which the thought +evoked, jarred and caricatured the ideal, the ideal Mike Fletcher, +which in more or less consistent form was always present in his mind. +He who had always received, would have to make presents. The +engagement ring would cost five-and-twenty pounds, and where was he +to get the money? The ring he would have to buy at once; and his +entire fortune did not for the moment amount to ten pounds. Her +money, if she had any, would pay for the honeymoon; and it was only +right that a woman should pay for her honeymoon. They would go to +Italy. She was Italy! At least she was his idea of Italy. Italy! he +had never been there; he had always intended to keep Italy for his +wedding tour. He was virgin of Italy. So much virginity he had at all +events kept for his wife. She was the emblem and symbol of Italy. + +Venice rose into his eyes. He is in a gondola with her; the water is +dark with architrave and pillar; and a half moon floats in a +boundless sky But remembering that this is the Venice of a hundred +"chromos," his imagination filled the well-known water-way with +sunlight and maskers, creating the carnival upon the Grand Canal. +Laughing and mocking Loves; young nobles in blue hose, sword on +thigh, as in Shakespeare's plays; young brides in tumultuous satin, +with collars of translucent pearls; garlands reflected in the water; +scarves thrown about the ample bosoms of patrician matrons. Then the +brides, the nobles, the pearls, the loves, and the matrons disappear +in a shower of confetti. Wearying of Venice he strove to see +Florence, "the city of lilies"; but the phrase only suggested +flower-sellers. He intoxicated upon his love, she who to him was now +Italy. He imagined confidences, sudden sights of her face more +exquisite than the Botticelli women in the echoing picture galleries, +more enigmatic than the eyes of a Leonardo; and in these days of +desire, he lived through the torment of impersonal love, drawn for +the first time out of himself. All beautiful scenes of love from +books, pictures, and life floated in his mind. He especially +remembered a sight of lovers which he had once caught on an hotel +staircase. A young couple, evidently just returned from the theatre, +had entered their room; the woman was young, tall, and aristocratic; +she was dressed in some soft material, probably a dress of +cream-coloured lace in numberless flounces; he remembered that her +hair was abundant and shadowed her face. The effect of firelight +played over the hangings of the bed; she stood by the bed and raised +her fur cloak from her shoulders. The man was tall and thin, and the +light caught the points of the short sharp beard. The scene had +bitten itself into Mike's mind, and it reappeared at intervals +perfect as a print, for he sometimes envied the calm and +healthfulness of honourable love. + +"Great Scott! twelve o'clock!" Smiling, conscious of the incongruity, +he set to work, and in about three hours had finished a long letter, +in which he usefully advised "light o' loves" on the advantages of +foreign travel. + +"I wonder," he thought, "how I can write in such a strain while I'm +in love with her. What beastliness! I hate the whole thing. I desire +a new life; I have tried vice long enough and am weary of it; I'm not +happy, and if I were to gain the whole world it would be dust and +ashes without her. Then why not take that step which would bring her +to me?" He faced his cowardice angrily, and resolved to post the +letter. But he stopped before he had walked fifty yards, for his +doubts followed him, buzzing and stinging like bees. Striving to rid +himself of them, and weary of considering his own embarrassed +condition, he listened gladly to Lizzie, who deplored Mount Rorke's +cruelty and her husband's continuous ill luck. + +"I told him his family would never receive me; I didn't want to marry +him; for days I couldn't make up my mind; he can't say I persuaded +him into it." + +"But you are happy now; don't you like being married?" + +"Oh, yes, I should be happy enough if things only went better with +us. He is so terribly unlucky. No one works harder than Frank; he +often sits up till three o'clock in the morning writing. He tries +everything, but nothing seems to succeed with him. There's this +paper. I don't believe he has ever had a penny out of it. Tell me, +Mr. Fletcher, do you think it will ever succeed?" + +"Newspapers generally fail for want of a concerted plan of appeal to +a certain section of society kept steadily in view; they are nearly +always vague and undetermined; but I believe when four clever pens +are brought together, and write continuously, and with set purpose +and idea, that they can, that they must and invariably do create a +property worth at least twenty thousand pounds." + +"Frank has gone to the station to meet Thigh. I distrust that man +dreadfully; I hope he won't rob my poor husband. Frank told me to get +a couple of pheasants for dinner. Which way are you going? To the +post-office? Do you want a stamp?" + +"No, thank you, my letter is stamped." He held the letter in the box +unable to loose his fingers, embarrassed in the consideration whether +marriage would permit him to develop his artistic nature as he +intended. Lizzie was looking at him, and it was with difficulty that +he concealed from her the fact that he had not dropped his letter in +the box. + +When they returned to the cottage they found Thigh and Frank were +turning over the pages of the last number of the _Pilgrim_. + +"Just let's go through the paper," said Frank. "One, two, +three--twelve columns of paragraphs! and I'll bet that in every one +of those columns there is a piece of news artistic, political, or +social, which no other paper has got. Here are three articles, one +written by our friend here, one by me, and one by a man whose name I +am not at liberty to mention; but I may tell you he has written some +well-known books, and is a constant contributor to the _Fortnightly_; +here is a column of gossip from Paris excellently well done; here is +a short story ... What do you think the paper wants?" + +Thigh was a very small and very neatly-dressed man. His manner was +quiet and reserved, and he caressed a large fair moustache with his +left hand, on which a diamond ring sparkled. + +"I think it wants smartening up all round," he said. "You want to +make it smarter; people will have things bright nowadays." + +"Bright!" said Frank; "I don't know where you are going for +brightness nowadays. Just look at the other papers--here is the +_Club_--did you ever see such a rag? Here is the _Spy_--I don't think +you could tell if you were reading a number of last year or this week +if you didn't look at the date! I've given them up for news. I look +to see if they have got a new advertisement; if they have, I send +Tomlinson and see if I can get one too." + +Thigh made some judicious observations, and the conversation was +continued during dinner. Frank and Mike vying with each other to show +their deference to Thigh's literary opinions--Lizzie eager to know +what he thought of her dinner. + +Thigh said the turbot was excellent, that the cutlets were very nice, +that the birds were splendid; the jam pudding was voted delicious. +And they leaned back in their chairs, their eyes filled with the +torpor of digestion. Frank brought out a bottle of old port, the last +of a large supply which he had had from Mount Rorke's wine merchant. +The pleasure of the wine was in their stomachs, and under its +influence they talked of Tennyson, Leonardo da Vinci, Corot, and the +_Ingoldsby Legends_. The servant had brought in the lamp, cigars were +lighted, the clock struck nine. As yet not a word had been spoken of +the business, and seeing that Mike was deep in conversation with +Lizzie, Frank moved his chair towards Thigh, and said-- + +"Well, what about buying half of the paper?" + +"I'm quite ready to buy half the paper on the conditions I've already +offered you." + +"But they won't do. If I have to go smash, I may as well go smash for +a large sum as a small one. To clear myself of debts I must have five +hundred pounds." + +"Well, you'll get six hundred; you'll receive a thousand and you'll +give me back four hundred." + +"Yes, but I did not tell you that I have sold a small share in the +paper to an old schoolfellow of mine. When I have paid him I shall +have only two hundred, and that won't be of the slightest use to me." + +"Oh, you have sold part of the paper already, have you? How do you +know your friend will consent to be bought out? That complicates +matters." + +"My friend only did it to oblige me; he is only too anxious to be +bought out. He is in a fearful funk lest he should be compromised in +a libel action." + +"Oh, then I think it can be managed. Were I in your place I should +try and get rid of him for nothing. I can't offer you better terms; +it wouldn't pay me to do so; I might as well start a new paper." + +"Yes, but tell me, how can I get rid of him for nothing?" + +Thigh looked at Frank inquiringly, and apparently satisfied he drew +his chair nearer, stroked his moustache, and said, speaking under his +breath-- + +"Have you collected what money is owing to the paper lately? Have you +many outstanding debts?" + +"We have got some." + +"Well, don't collect any money that is owing, but make out a long +statement of the paper's liabilities; don't say a word about the +outstanding debts, and tell your friend that he is responsible as +part owner of the paper for this money. When you have sufficiently +frightened him, suggest that he should sign over his share to you, +you being a man of straw whom it would be useless to proceed against. +Or you might get your printer to press you for money--" + +"That won't be difficult." + +"Offer him a bill, and then mix the two accounts up together." + +At this moment Mike was speaking to Lizzie of love. She told him +there was no real happiness except in married life, assured him that +though they might be beggars to-day, she would not give up her +husband for all the wealth of the three kingdoms. + +Very anxious to ascertain the truth about married life, Mike pressed +Lizzie upon several points; the old ache awoke about his heart, and +again he resolved to regenerate his life, and love Lily and none but +her. He looked round the room, considering how he could get away. +Frank was talking business. He would not disturb him. No doubt Thigh +was concocting some swindle, but he (Mike) knew nothing of business; +he had a knack of turning the king at ecarte, but was nowhere once +bills and the cooking of accounts were introduced. Should he post the +letter? That was the question, and it played in his ears like an +electric bell. Here was the letter; he could feel it through his +coat, lying over his heart, and there it had lain since he had +written it. + +Frank and Thigh continued talking; Lizzie went to the baby, and Mike +walked into the night, looking at the stars. He walked along the +white high-road--to him a road of dreams--towards the white town--to +him a town of chimeras--and leaning over the moon-lit river, shaking +himself free from the hallucination within and without him, he said-- + +"On one hand I shall belong to one woman. Her house shall be my +house, her friends shall be my friends; the others, the beautiful, +fascinating others, will cease to dream of me, I shall no longer be +their ideal. On the other hand I shall gain the nicest woman, and +surely it must be right to take, though it be for life, the nicest +woman in the world. She will supply what is wanting in my character; +together we shall attain a goal; alone I shall attain none. In twenty +years I shall be a foolish old bachelor whom no one cares for. I have +stated both cases--on which side does the balance turn?" + +The balance still stood at equipoise. A formless moon soared through +a white cloud wrack, and broken gold lay in the rising tide. The +sonorous steps of the policeman on the bridge startled him, and +obeying the impulse of the moment, he gave the officer the letter, +asking him to post it. He waited for some minutes, as if stupefied, +pursuing the consequences of his act even into distant years. No, he +would not send the letter just yet. But the officer had disappeared +in some by-streets, and followed by the spirits of future loves, Mike +ran till he reached the post-office, where he waited in nervous +apprehension. Presently steps were heard in the stillness, and +getting between him and the terrible slot, Mike determined to fight +for his letter if it were refused him. + +"I met you just now on the bridge and asked you to post a letter; +give it back to me, if you please. I've changed my mind." + +The officer looked at him narrowly, but he took the proffered +shilling, and returned the letter. + +"That was the narrowest squeak I've had yet," thought Mike. + +When he returned to the cottage he found Frank and Thigh still +together. + +"Mr. Beacham Brown," said Thigh, "is now half-proprietor of the +_Pilgrim_. The papers are signed. I came down quite prepared. I +believe in settling things right off. When Mrs. Escott comes in, we +will drink to the new _Pilgrim_, or, if you like it better, to the +old _Pilgrim_, who starts afresh with a new staff and scrip, and a +well-filled scrip too," he added, laughing vacuously. + +"I hope," said Mike, "that Holloway is not the shrine he is +journeying towards." + +"I hope your book won't bring us there." + +"Why, I didn't know you were going to continue--" + +"Oh, yes," said Thigh; "that is to say, if we can come to an +arrangement about the purchase," and Thigh lapsed into a stony +silence, as was his practice when conducting a bargain. + +"By God!" Mike thought, "I wish we were playing at ecarte or poker. +I'm no good at business." + +"Well," he said at last, "what terms do you propose to offer me?" + +Thigh woke up. + +"I never bargain," he said. "I'll give you Beacham Brown's cheque for +a hundred and fifty if you will give me a receipt for three hundred," +and he looked inquiry out of his small, pale blue eyes, and Mike +noticed the diamond ring on the hand that caressed his moustache. + +"No," said Mike, "that isn't fair. You don't write a line of the +book. There is not even the excuse of commission, for the book is now +appearing." + +"Escott would not have paid you anything like that amount. I think +I'm treating you very liberally. Indeed I don't mind telling you that +I should not offer you anything like such terms if Beacham Brown were +not anxious to have the book; he read your last article in the train, +and came back raving about it." + +Bright pleasure passed across Mike's face; he thought Thigh had +slipped in the avowal, and he girt himself for resolute resistance +and cautious attack. But Thigh was the superior strategist. Mike was +led from the subject, and imperceptibly encouraged to speak of other +things, and without interruption he span paradoxes and scattered +jokes for ten minutes. Then the conversation dropped, and annoyed, +Mike fixed his eyes on Thigh, who sat in unmovable silence. + +"Well," said Mike, "what do you intend to do?" + +"About what?" said Thigh, with a half-waking stare. + +"About this book of mine. You know very well that if I take it to +another shop you'll find it difficult to get anything like as good a +serial. I know pretty well what talent is walking about Fleet +Street." + +Thigh said nothing, only raised his eyes as if Mike's words were full +of suggestion, and again beguiled, Mike rambled into various +criticisms of contemporary journalism. Friends were laughed at, and +the papers they edited were stigmatized as rags that lived upon the +ingenuity of the lies of advertising agents. When the conversation +again dropped, Thigh showed no inclination of returning to the book, +but, as before, sat in stony silence, and out of temper with himself, +Mike had to ask him again what the terms were. + +"I cannot offer you better terms than I have already done." + +"Very well; I'll take one hundred and fifty for the serial rights." + +"No, for the entire rights." + +"No, I'll be damned, I don't care what happens!" + +Then Frank joined in the discussion. Every one withdrew the offer he +had made, and all possibility of agreement seemed at an end. Somehow +it was suggested that Thigh should toss Mike whether he should pay +him two hundred or a hundred and fifty. The men exchanged questioning +looks, and at that moment Lizzie entered with a pack of cards, and +Thigh said-- + +"I'll play you at ecarte--the best out of seven games." + +Mike realized at once the situation, and he hoped Frank would not +betray him. He saw that Thigh had been drinking. "God has given him +into my hands," he thought; and it was agreed that they should play +the best out of seven games for twenty-five pounds, and that the +loser should have the right to call for a return match. Mike knew +nothing of his opponent's play, but he did not for a moment suspect +him of superior skill. Such a thing could hardly be, and he decided +he would allow him to win the first games, watching carefully the +while, so that he might study his combinations and plans, and learn +in what measure he might pack and "bridge" the cards. There is much +in a shuffle, and already Mike believed him to be no more than an +ordinary club player, capable of winning a few sovereigns from a +young man fresh from the university; and although the cards Mike held +did not warrant such a course, he played without proposing, and when +he lost the trick he scanned his opponent's face, and seeing it +brighten, he knew the ruse had succeeded. But luck seemed to run +inexplicably against him, and he was defeated. In the return match he +met with similar luck, and rose from the table, having lost fifty +pounds. Mike wrote a second I O U for twenty-five pounds, to be paid +out of the hundred and fifty pounds which he had agreed in writing to +accept for the book before sitting down to play. Then he protested +vehemently against his luck, and so well did he act his part, that +even if Thigh had not drunk another glass of whiskey-and-water he +would not have perceived that Mike was simulating an excitement which +he did not feel. + +"I'll play you for a hundred pounds--the best out of seven games; +damn the cards! I can beat you no matter how they run!" + +"Very well, I don't mind, anything to oblige a friend." + +Lizzie besought Mike not to play again, and she nearly upset the +apple-cart by angrily telling Thigh she did not wish her house to be +turned into a gambling hell. Thigh rose from the table, but Frank +apologized for his wife, and begged of him to sit down. The incident +was not without a good effect, for it removed Thigh's suspicions, if +he had any, and convinced him that he was "in for a real good thing." +He laid on the table a cheque, signed Beacham Brown, for a hundred +pounds; Mike produced his nearly completed manuscript. Thigh looked +over the MS., judging its length. + +"It is all here?" + +"No, there's one chapter to come; that's good enough for you." + +"Oh yes, it will do. You'll have to finish it, for you'll want to +write for the paper." + +This time the cards were perfectly packed, and Mike turned the king. + +"Cards?" + +"No, play." + +Frank and Lizzie leaned breathless over the table, their faces white +in the light of the unshaded lamp. Mike won the whole five tricks. +But luck was dead against him, and in a few minutes the score stood +at three games all. Then outrageously, for there was no help for it, +as he never would have dared if his opponent had been quite sober, he +packed and bridged the cards. He turned the king. + +"Cards?" + +"No, play." + +Mike won the fourth game, and put Mr. Beacham Brown's cheque in his +pocket. + +"I'll play you again," said Thigh. + +Mike accepted, and before eleven o'clock Thigh had paid three hundred +pounds for the manuscript and lost all his available spare cash. He +glanced narrowly at Mike, paused as he put on his hat and coat, and +Frank wished Lizzie would leave the room, feeling sure that violent +words were inevitable. But at that moment Mike's shoulders and +knuckles seemed more than usually prominent, and Mr. Beacham Brown's +agent slunk away into the darkness. + +"You did turn the king pretty often," said Frank, when the door +closed. "I'm glad there was no row." + +"Row! I'd have broken his dirty neck. Not content with swindling poor +Beacham Brown, he tries it on with the contributors. I wish I had +been able to get him to go on. I would willingly have fleeced him of +every penny he has in the world." + +Lizzie bade them good-night, and the servant brought in a letter for +Mike, a letter which she explained had been incorrectly addressed, +and had just come from the hotel. Frank took up a newspaper which +Thigh had left on the table. He turned it over, glancing hastily +through it. Then something caught his eye, and the expression of his +face changed. And what caused him pain could be no more than a few +words, for the paper fell instantly from his hands and he sat quite +still, staring into space. But neither the sound of the paper +falling, nor yet the frozen rigidity of his attitude drew Mike's +thoughts from the letter he was reading. He glanced hastily through +it, then he read it attentively, lingering over every word. He seemed +to suck sweetness out of every one; it was the deep, sensual +absorption of a fly in a pot of treacle. His eyes were dim with +pleasure long drawn out; they saw nothing, and it was some moments +before the pallor and pain of Frank's face dispelled the melliferous +Edens in which Mike's soul moved. + +"What is the matter, old chap? Are you ill?" + +Frank did not answer. + +"Are you ill? Shall I get you a drink?" + +"No, no," he said. "I assure you it is nothing; no, it is nothing." +He struggled for a moment for shame's sake to keep his secret, but it +was more than he could bear. "Ah!" he said, "it is all over; I'm done +for--read." + +He stooped to pick up the paper. Mike took the paper from him and +read-- + +"Thursday--Lady Mount Rorke, of a son." + +Whilst one man hears his doom pronounced, another sees a golden +fortune fallen in his hand, and the letter Mike had just read was +from a firm of solicitors, informing him that Lady Seeley had left +him her entire fortune, three thousand a year in various securities, +and a property in Berkshire; house, pictures, plate--in a word, +everything she possessed. The bitterness of his friend's ill fortune +contrasting with the sweetness of his own good fortune, struck his +heart, and he said, with genuine sorrow in his voice-- + +"I'm awfully sorry, old chap." + +"There's no use being sorry for me, I'm done for; I shall never be +Lord Mount Rorke now. That child, that wife, are paupers; that +castle, that park, that river, all--everything that I was led to +believe would be mine one day, has passed from me irrevocably. It is +terribly cruel--it seems too cruel to be true; all those old +places--you know them--all has passed from me. I never believed Mount +Rorke would have an heir, he is nearly seventy; it is too cruel." + +Tears swam in his eyes, and covering his face in his hands he burst +into a storm of heavy sobbing. + +Mike was sincere, but "there is something not wholly disagreeable to +us in hearing of the misfortunes even of our best friends," and Mike +felt the old thought forced into his mind that he who had come from +the top had gone to the bottom, and that he who came from the bottom +was going--had gone to the top. Taking care, however, that none of +the triumph ebullient within him should rise into his voice, he +said-- + +"I am really sorry for you, Frank. You mustn't despair; perhaps the +child won't live, and perhaps the paper will succeed. It must +succeed. It shall succeed." + +"Succeed! nothing succeeds with me. I and my wife and child are +beggars on the face of the earth. It matters little to me whether the +paper succeeds or fails. Thigh has got pretty nearly all of it. When +my debts are paid I shall not have enough to set myself up in rooms." + +At the end of a painful silence, Mike said-- + +"We've had our quarrels, but you've been a damned good friend to me; +it is my turn now to stand to you. To begin with, here is the three +hundred that I won from Thigh. I don't want it. I assure you I don't. +Then there are your rooms in Temple Gardens; I'll take them off your +hands. I'll pay all the arrears of rent, and give you the price you +paid for your furniture." + +"What damned nonsense! how can you do that? Take three hundred pounds +from you--the price of your book. You have nothing else in the +world!" + +"Yes, I have; it is all right, old chap; you can have the money. The +fact is," he said, "Lady Seeley has left me her whole fortune; the +letter I just received is from the solicitors. They say three +thousand a year in various securities, and a property in Berkshire. +So you see I can afford to be generous. I shall feel much hurt if you +don't accept. Indeed, it is the least I can do; I owe it to you." + +The men looked at each other, their eyes luminous with intense and +quickening emotions. Fortune had been so derisive that Mike feared +Frank would break into foolish anger, and that only a quarrel and +worse hatred might result from his offer of assistance. + +"It was in my box you met her; I remember the night quite well. You +were with Harding." [Footnote: See _Spring Days_.] The men exchanged +an inquiring look. "She wanted me to go home and have supper with +her; she was in love with me then; I might have been her lover. But I +refused, and I went into the bar and spoke to Lizzie; when she went +off on duty I went and sat with you and Harding. Not long after I saw +you at Reading, in the hotel overlooking the river. I was with +Lizzie." [Footnote: See _Spring Days_.] + +"You can't accuse me of having cut you out. You could have got her, +and--" + +"I didn't want her; I was in love with Lizzie, and I am still. And +strange as it may appear to you, I regret nothing, at least nothing +that concerns Lizzie." + +Mike wondered if this were true. His fingers fidgeted with the +cheques. "Won't you take them?" + +Frank took them. It was impossible to continue the conversation. +Frank made a remark, and the young men bade each other good-night. + +As Mike went up the staircase to his room, his exultation swelled, +and in one of those hallucinations of the brain consequent upon +nerve excitement, and in which we are conscious of our insanity, he +wondered the trivial fabric of the cottage did not fall, and his soul +seemed to pierce the depth and mystery imprisoned in the stars. He +undressed slowly, looking at himself in the glass, pausing when he +drew off his waistcoat, unbuttoning his braces with deliberation. + +"I can make nothing of it; there never was any one like me.... I +could do anything, I might have been Napoleon or Caesar." + +As he folded his coat he put his hand into the breast pocket and +produced the unposted letter. + +"That letter will drive me mad! Shall I burn it? What do I want with +a wife? I've plenty of money now." + +He held the letter to the flame of the candle. But he could not burn +it. + +"This is too damned idiotic!" he thought, as he laid it on the table +and prepared to get into bed; "I'm not going to carry that letter +about all my life. I must either post it or destroy it." + +Then the darkness became as if charged with a personality sweet and +intense; it seemed to emanate from the letter which lay on the table, +and to materialize strangely and inexplicably. It was the fragrance +of brown hair, and the light of youthful eyes; and in this perfume, +and this light, he realized her entire person; every delicate defect +of thinness. She hung over him in all her girlishness, and he clasped +her waist with his hands. + +"How sweet she is! There is none like her." + +Then wearying of the strained delight he remembered Belthorpe Park, +now his. Trees and gardens waved in his mind; downs and river lands +floated, and he half imagined Lily there smiling upon them; and when +he turned to the wall, resolute in his search for sleep, the perfume +he knew her by, the savour of the skin, where the first faint curls +begin, haunted in his hallucinations, and intruded beneath the +bed-clothes. One dream was so exquisite in its tenderness, so +illusive was the enchanted image that lay upon his brain, that +fearing to lose it, he strove to fix his dream with words, but no +word pictured her eyes, or the ineffable love they expressed, and yet +the sensation of both was for the moment quite real in his mind. They +were sitting in a little shady room; she was his wife, and she hung +over him, sitting on his knee. Her eyes were especially distinct and +beautiful, and her arms--those thin arms which he knew so well--and +that waist were clothed in a puritanic frock of some blue material. +His happiness thrilled him, and he lay staring into the darkness till +the darkness withered, and the lines of the room appeared--the +wardrobe, the wash-hand-stand, and then the letter. He rose from his +bed. In all-pervading grayness the world lay as if dead; not a whiff +of smoke ascended, not a bird had yet begun, and the river, like a +sheet of zinc, swirled between its low banks. + +"God! it is worse than the moonlight!" thought Mike, and went back to +bed. But he could not rest, and when he went again to the window +there was a faint flush in the sky's cheek; and then a bar of rose +pierced the heavy ridge of clouds that hung above the woodland. + +"An omen! I will post her letter in the sunrise." And conscious of +the folly, but unable to subdue that desire of romance so inveterate +in him, he considered how he might leave the house. He remembered, +and with pleasure, that he could not pass down the staircase without +disturbing the dog, and he thought of the prolonged barking that +would begin the moment he touched the chain on the front door. He +would have to get out of the window; but the window was twenty feet +from the ground. "A rope! I have no rope! How absurd!" he thought, +and, rejoicing in the absurdity, he drew a sheet from the bed and +made it fast. Going to Lily through a window seemed to relieve +marriage of some of its shame. + +"Life wouldn't be complete without her. Yes, that's just it; that +sums it up completely; curious I did not think of that before. It +would have saved such a lot. Yes, life would not be complete without +her. The problem is solved," and he dropped the letter as easily as +if it had been a note asking for seats in the theatre. "I'm married," +he said. "Good heavens! how strange it seems. I shall have to give +her a ring, and buy furniture. I had forgotten! ... No difficulty +about that now. We shall go to my place in Berkshire." + +But he could not go back to bed, and he walked down to the river, his +fine figure swinging beautifully distinct in his light clothing. The +dawn wind thrilled in his chest, for he had only a light coat over +the tasselled silk night-shirt; and the dew drenched his feet as he +swung along the pathway to the river. The old willow was full of +small birds; they sat ruffling their feathers, and when Mike sprang +into the boat they flew through the gray light, taking refuge in some +osier-beds. And as he looked down stream he saw the night clouds +dispersing in the wind. He pulled, making the boat shoot through the +water for about a mile, then touched by the beauty of the landscape, +paused to view it. Cattle lay in the long, moist meadows, harmonizing +in their semi-unconsciousness with the large gray earth; mist hung in +the sedges, floated evanescent upon the surface of the water, within +reach of his oars, floated and went out in the sunshine. But on the +verge of an oak wood, amid tangled and tawny masses of fern and +grass, a hound stopped and looked up. Then the huntsman appeared +galloping along the upland, and turning in his saddle, he blew a +joyful blast. + +Mike sat still, his heart close shut, the beauty of the scene in its +quick and core. Then yielding utterly he drove the boat ashore, and +calling to the nearest, to one who had stopped and was tightening his +horse's girths, he offered to buy his horse. A hundred pounds was +asked. "It is not worth it," he thought; "but I must spend my four +thousand a year." The desire to do what others think of doing but +don't do was always active in Mike. He gave his name and address; +and, fearing to miss dealing on such advantageous terms, the owner +consented to allow Mike to try the horse then and there. But the +hounds had got on the scent of a fox. The horn was heard ringing in +the seared wood in the crimson morning, and the hounds streamed +across the meadows. + +"I must try him over some fences. Take my boat and row up to Ash +Cottage; I'll meet you there." + +"I'll do nothing of the sort!" roared the man in top-boots. + +"Then walk across the fields," cried Mike; and he rode at the hedge +and rail, coming down heavily, but before the owner could reach him +he had mounted and was away. + +Some hours later, as he approached the cottage, he saw Frank and a +man in top-boots engaged in deep converse. + +"Get off my horse instantly!" exclaimed the latter. + +"The horse is mine," said Mike, who unfortunately could not control +his laughter. + +"Your horse! Certainly not! Get off my horse, or I'll pull you off." + +Mike jumped off. + +"Since you will have it so, I'll not dispute with you. There is your +horse; not a bad sort of animal--capital sport." + +"Now pay me my hundred pounds!" said the owner, between his clenched +teeth. + +"You said just now that you hadn't sold me the horse. There is your +horse, and here is the name of my solicitors, if you want to go to +law with me." + +"Law with you! I'll give you law!" and letting go the horse, that +immediately began to browse, he rushed at Mike, his whip in the air. + +Mike fought, his long legs wide apart, his long arms going like +lightning, straight from the shoulder, scattering blood over necktie +and collar; and presently the man withdrew, cursing Mike for an Irish +horse-stealer. + +"I never heard of such a thing!" said Frank. "You got on his horse +and rode away, leaving him standing on the outside of the cover." + +"Yes," shouted Mike, delighted with his exploit; "I felt I must go +after the hounds." + +"Yes, but to go away with the man's horse!" + +"My dear fellow, why not? Those are the things that other fellows +think of doing but don't do. An excitement like that is worth +anything." + +While waiting for Lily's answer, Mike finished the last chapter of +his book, and handed the manuscript to Frank. Between the sentences +he had speculated on the state of soul his letter would produce in +her, and had imagined various answers. "Darling, how good of you! I +did not know you loved me so well." She would write, "Your letter +surprised me, but then you always surprise me. I can promise you +nothing; but you may come and see me next Thursday." She would write +at once, of that there could be no doubt; such letters were always +answered at once. He watched the postman and the clock; every double +knock made tumult in his heart; and in his stimulated perceptions he +saw the well-remembered writing as if it lay under his eyes. And the +many communications he received during those days whetted the edge of +his thirst, and aggravated the fever that floated in his brain. + +And towards the end of the week, at the end of a long night of +suffering, he went to London. And for the first time, forgetful of +himself, without a thought of the light he would appear in, he told +the cabman where to drive. His heart failed him when he heard that +Miss Young had been ordered abroad by the doctor. And as he walked +away a morbid sense instilled in him that Lily would never be his +bride. Fear for her life persisted, and corrupted all his joy. He +could not listen to Lady Seeley's solicitors, and he could not +meditate upon the new life which Helen had given him. He had +inherited sixty thousand pounds in various securities, yielding three +thousand a year; the estate in Berkshire brought in fifteen hundred a +year; and a sum of twelve hundred pounds lay in the bank for +immediate uses. + +"Dear, sweet Helen--she was the best of the lot--none were as sweet +as she. Well, after all, it isn't so strange when one thinks of +it--she hadn't a relation in the world. I must see her grave. I'll +put a beautiful marble tomb over her; and when I'm in Berkshire I'll +go there every day with flowers." + +Then a shocking thought appeared in his mind. Accustomed to analyse +all sentiments, he asked his soul if he would give up all she had +given him to have her back in life; and he took courage and joy when +the answer came that he would. And delighted at finding himself +capable of such goodness, he walked in a happier mood. His mind hung +all day between these two women--while he paid the rent that was +owing there in Temple Gardens; while he valued the furniture and +fixtures. He valued them casually, and in a liberal spirit, and wrote +to Frank offering him seven hundred pounds for the place as it stood. +"It is not worth it," he thought, "but I'd like to put the poor +fellow on his legs." + +Where should he dine? He wanted distraction, and unable to think of +any better relief, he turned into Lubi's for a merry dinner. The +little gilt gallery was in disorder, Sally Slater having spent the +afternoon there. Her marquis was with her; her many admirers +clustered about the cigarette-strewn table, anxious to lose no word +of her strange conversation. One drunkard insisted on telling +anecdotes about the duke, and asking the marquis to drink with him. + +"I tell you I remember the circumstances perfectly--the duke wore a +gray overcoat," said drunkard No. 1. + +"Get out! I tell you to get out!" cried drunkard No. 2. "Brave +Battlemoor, I say; long live Battlemoor! Have a drink?--I want +Battlemoor to drink with me." + +"For God's sake have a drink with him," said Sally, "and then perhaps +he'll take another box for my benefit." + +"What, another?" + +"Only a guinea one this time; there's the ticket--fork out. And now I +must be off." + +The street echoed with the porter's whistle, half a dozen cabs came +racing for these excellent customers, and to the Trocadero they went. +The acting manager passed them in. Mike, Sally, Marquis, and the +drunkards lingered in the bar behind the auditorium, and +brandies-and-sodas were supplied to them over a sloppy mahogany +counter. A woman screamed on the stage in green silk, and between the +heads of those standing in the entrance to the stalls, her open mouth +and an arm in black swede were seen occasionally. + +Tired of drunkenness and slang Mike went into the stalls. The boxes +were bright with courtesans; the young men whispered invitations to +drink, and the chairman, puffing at a huge cigar, used his little +hammer and announced "Miss Sally Slater will appear next." Battlemoor +roared approval, and then in a short skirt and black stockings Sally +rushed to the footlights and took her audience, as it were, by the +throat. + + "Oh, you men, what would you do without us? + You kiss us, you cuddle and play, + You win our hearts away. + Oh, you men, there's something so nice about us." + +The "Oh, you men," was given with a shake of the fist and the waggle +of the bustle, in which there was genius, and Mike could not but +applaud. Suddenly he became aware that a pair of opera-glasses were +bracketed upon him, and looking up he saw Kitty Carew sitting with a +young nobleman, and he saw the white line of her teeth, for she was +laughing. She waved him to come to her. + +"You dear old sweet," she said, "where have you been all this +time?--Come, kiss me at once." And she bent her head towards him. + +"And now Newtimber, good-bye; I want to be with Mike. But you'll not +forget me, you'll come and see me one of these days?" And she spoke +so winningly that the boy hardly perceived that he was dismissed. +Mike and Kitty exchanged an inquiring look. + +"Ah! do you remember," she said, "when I was at the Avenue, and you +used to come behind? ... You remember the dear old marquis. When I was +ill he used to come and read to me. He used to say I was the only +friend he had. The dear marquis--and he is gone now. I went to his +grave yesterday, and I strewed the tomb with chrysanthemums, and +every spring he has the first lilac of my garden." + +"And who is your lover?" + +"I assure you I haven't got one. Harding was the last, but he is +becoming a bore; he philosophizes. I dare say he's very clever, but +people don't kiss each other because they are clever. I don't think I +ever was in love.... But tell me, how do you think I am looking? Does +this dress suit me? Do I look any older?" + +Mike vowed he had never seen her so charming. + +"Very well, if you think so, I'll tell you what we'll do. As soon as +Coburn has sung his song, we'll go; my brougham is waiting ... You'll +come home and have supper with me." + +A remembrance of Lily came over him, but in quick battle he crushed +it out of mind and murmured, "That will be very nice; you know I +always loved you better than any one." + +At that moment they were interrupted by cheers and yells. Muchross +had just entered at the head of his gang; his lieutenants, Snowdown +and Dicky the driver, stood beside him. They stood under the gallery +bowing to the courtesans in the boxes, and singing-- + + "Two lovely black eyes + Oh! what a surprise, + Two lovely black eyes." + +"I wish we could avoid those fellows," said Kitty; "they'll only +bother me with questions. Come, let's be off, they'll be up here in a +moment." But they were intercepted by Muchross and his friends in a +saloon where Sally and Battlemoor were drinking with various singers, +waiting their turns. + +"Where are you going? You aren't going off like that?" cried +Muchross, catching her by her sleeve. + +"Yes, I am; I am going home." + +"Let me see you home," whispered Dicky. + +"Thanks, Mike is seeing me home." + +"You are in love," cried Muchross; "I shan't leave you." + +"You are in drink; I'll leave you in charge if you don't loose my +sleeve." + +"This joker," cried Sally, "will take a ticket if something wins a +Lincoln, and he doesn't know which." She stood in the doorway, her +arms akimbo. "People are very busy here," she snarled, when a woman +tried to pass. + +"I beg your pardon," said the ex-chorus girl. + +"And a good thing too," said Sally. "You are one of the busy ones, +just got your salary for shoving, I suppose." There was no competing +with Sally's tongue, and the girl passed without replying. + +This queen of song was attired in a flowery gown of pale green, and +she wore a large hat lavishly trimmed with wild flowers; she moved +slowly, conscious of her importance and fame. + +But at that moment a man in a check suit said, doffing his cap, "Very +pleased to see you here, Miss Slater." + +Sally looked him over. "Well, I can't help that." + +"I was at your benefit. Mr. Jackson was there, and he introduced me +to you after the performance." + +"No, I'm sure he didn't." + +"I beg your pardon, Miss Slater. Don't you remember when Peggy Praed +got on the table and made a speech?" + +"No, I don't; you saw _me_ on the stage and you paid your money for +that. What more do you want?" + +"I assure you--" + +"Well, that's all right, now's your chance to lend me a fiver." + +"I'll lend you a fiver or a tenner, if you like, Miss Slater." + +"You could not do it if you tried, and now the roast pork's off." + +The witticism was received with a roar from her admirers, and +satisfied with her victory, she said--"And now, you girls, you come +and have drinks with me. What will you have, Kitty, what will you +have? give it a name." + +Kitty protested but was forced to sit down. The courtesans joined the +comic vocalists, waiting to do their "turns." Lord Muchross and Lord +Snowdown ordered magnums, and soon the hall was almost deserted. A +girl was, however, dancing prettily on the stage, and Mike stood to +watch her. Her hose were black, and in limp pink silk skirts she +kicked her slim legs surprisingly to and fro. After each dance she +ran into the wings, reappearing in a fresh costume, returning at +length in wide sailor's trousers of blue silk, her bosom partially +covered in white cambric. As the band played the first notes of the +hornpipe, she withdrew a few hair-pins, and forthwith an abundant +darkness fell to her dancing knees, almost to her tiny dancing feet, +heavy as a wave, shadowy as sleeping water. As some rich weed that +the warm sea holds and swings, as some fair cloud lingers in radiant +atmosphere, her hair floated, every parted tress an impalpable film +of gold in the crude sunlight of the ray turned upon her; and when +she danced towards the footlights, the bright softness of the threads +clung almost amorously about her white wrists--faint cobwebs hanging +from white flowers were not more faint, fair, and soft; wonderful was +the hair of this dancing girl, suggesting all fabled enchantments, +all visions of delicate perfume and all the poetry of evanescent +colour. + +She was followed by the joyous Peggy Praed (sweet minx), the soul and +voice of the small back streets. Screwing up her winsome, comical +face, drawling a word here, accentuating a word there, she evoked, in +an illusive moment, the washing day, the quarrel with the +mother-in-law (who wanted to sleep in the house), tea-time, and the +trip to the sea-side with all its concomitant adventures amid bugs +and landladies. With an accent, with a gesture, she recalled in a +moment a phase of life, creating pictures vivid as they were +transitory, but endowing each with the charm of the best and most +highly finished works of the Dutch masters. Lords, courtesans, and +fellow-artists crowded to listen, and profiting by the opportunity, +Kitty touched Mike on the shoulder with her fan. + +"Now we had better go." + +"I'm driving to-morrow. Come down to Brighton with us," said Dicky +the driver. "Shall I keep places for you?" + +Rising, Kitty laid her hand upon his mouth to silence him, and +whispered, "Yes; we'll come, and good-night." + +In the soft darkness of the brougham, gently swung together, the +passing gaslights revealing the blueness of the cushions, a diamond +stud flashing intermittently, they lay, their souls sunk deep in the +intimacy of a companionship akin to that of a nest--they, the +inheritors of the pleasure of the night and the gladness of the +morrow. + +Dressing was delirium, and Kitty had to adjure Mike to say no more; +if he did she should go mad. Breakfast had to be skipped, and it was +only by bribing a cabman to gallop to Westminster that they caught +the coach. Even so they would have missed it had not Mike sprung at +risk of limb from the hansom and sped on the toes of his patent +leather shoes down the street, his gray cover coat flying. + +"What a toff he is," thought Kitty, full of the pride of her love. +Bessie, whom dear Laura had successfully chaperoned into well-kept +estate, sat with Dicky on the box; Laura sat with Harding in the back +seat; Muchross and Snowdown sat opposite them. The middle of the +coach was taken up by what Muchross said were a couple of bar-girls +and their mashers. + +On rolled the coach over Westminster Bridge, through Lambeth, in +picturesqueness and power, a sympathetic survival of aristocratic +days. The aristocracy and power so vital in the coach was soon +communicated to those upon it. And now when Jem Gregory, the +celebrated whip, with one leg swinging over the side, tootled, the +passers-by seemed littler than ever, the hansoms at the corner seemed +smaller, and the folk standing at their poor doors seemed meaner. As +they passed through those hungry streets, ragged urchins came +alongside, throwing themselves over and over, beseeching coppers from +Muchross, and he threw a few, urging them to further prostrations. +Tootle, Jim, tootle; whether they starve or whether they feed, we +have no thought. The clatter of the hooves of the bays resounds +through those poor back-rooms, full of human misery; the notes of our +horn are perhaps sounding now in dying ears. Tootle, Jim, tootle; +what care we for that pale mother and her babe, or that toiling +coster whose barrow is too heavy for him! If there is to be +revolution, it will not be in our time; we are the end of the world. +Laura is with us to-day, Bessie sits on the box, Kitty is with our +Don Juan; we know there is gold in our pockets, we see our courtesans +by us, our gallant bays are bearing us away to pleasure. Tootle, Jim, +my boy, tootle; the great Muchross is shouting derision at the poor +perspiring coster. "Pull up, you devil, pull up," he cries, and +shouts to the ragged urchins and scatters halfpence that they may +tumble once more in the dirt. See the great Muchross, the +clean-shaven face of the libertine priest, the small sardonic eyes. +Hurrah for the great Muchross! Long may he live, the singer of "What +cheer, Ria?" the type and epitome of the life whose outward signs are +drags, brandies-and-soda, and pale neckties. + +Gaily trotted the four bays, and as Clapham was approached brick +tenements disappeared in Portland stone and iron railings. A girl was +seen swinging; the white flannels of tennis players passed to and +fro, and a lady stood by a tall vase watering red geraniums. Harding +told Mike that the shaven lawns and the greenhouses explained the +lives of the inhabitants, and represented their ideas; and Laura's +account of the money she had betted was followed by an anecdote +concerning a long ramble in a wood, with a man who had walked her +about all day without even so much as once asking her if she had a +mouth on her. + +"Talking of mouths," said Mike, as they pulled up to change horses, +"we had to start without breakfast. I wonder if one could get a +biscuit and a glass of milk." + +"Glass of milk!" screamed Muchross, "no milk allowed on this coach." + +"Well, I don't think I could drink a brandy-and-soda at this time in +the morning." + +"At what time could you drink one then? Why, it is nearly eleven +o'clock! What will you have, Kitty? A brandy?" + +"No, I think I'll take a glass of beer." + +The beauty of the landscape passed unperceived. But the road was full +of pleasing reminiscences. As they passed through Croydon dear old +Laura pointed out an hotel where she used to go every Sunday with the +dear Earl, and in the afternoons they played cribbage in the +sitting-room overlooking the street. And some miles further on the +sweetness of the past burst unanimously from all when Dicky pointed +out with his whip the house where Bessie had gone for her honeymoon, +and where they all used to spend from Saturday till Monday. The +incident of Bill Longside's death was pathetically alluded to. He had +died of D. T. "Impossible," said Laura, "to keep him from it. Milly, +poor little woman, had stuck to him almost to the last. He had had +his last drink there. Muchross and Dicky had carried him out." + +The day was filled with fair remembrances of summer, and the earth +was golden and red; and the sky was folded in lawny clouds, which the +breeze was lifting, revealing beautiful spaces of blue. All the +abundant hedgerows were red with the leaf of the wild cherry, and the +oak woods wore masses of sere and russet leafage. Spreading beeches +swept right down to the road, shining in beautiful death; once a +pheasant rose and flew through the polished trunks towards the yellow +underwood. Sprays trembled on naked rods, ferns and grasses fell +about the gurgling watercourses, a motley undergrowth; and in the +fields long teams were ploughing, the man labouring at the plough, +the boy with the horses; and their smock-frocks and galligaskins +recalled an ancient England which time has not touched, and which +lives in them. And the farm-houses of gables and weary brick, +sometimes well-dismantled and showing the heavy beam, accentuated +these visions of past days. Yes, indeed, the brick villages, the old +gray farm-houses, and the windmill were very beautiful in the endless +yellow draperies which this autumn country wore so romantically. One +spot lingered in Mike's memory, so representative did it seem of that +country. The road swept round a beech wood that clothed a knoll, +descending into the open country by a tall redding hedge to a sudden +river, and cows were seen drinking and wading in the shallows, and +this last impression of the earth's loveliness smote the poet's heart +to joy which was near to grief. + +At Three Bridges they had lunch, in an old-fashioned hotel called the +George. Muchross cut the sirloin, filling the plates so full of juicy +meat that the ladies protested. Snowdown paid for champagne, and in +conjunction with the wine, the indelicate stories which he narrated +made some small invasion upon the reserve of the bar-girls; for their +admirers did not dare forbid them the wine, and could not prevent +them from smiling. After lunch the gang was photographed in the +garden, and Muchross gave the village flautist half a "quid," making +him promise to drink their healths till he was "blind." + +"I never like to leave a place without having done some good," he +shouted, as he scrambled into his seat. + +This sentiment was applauded until the sensual torpor of digestion +intervened. The clamour of the coach lapsed into a hush of voices. +The women leaned back, drawing their rugs about their knees, for it +was turning chilly, arms were passed round yielding waists, hands lay +in digestive poses, and eyes were bathed in deep animal indolences. + +Conversation had almost ceased. The bar-girls had not whispered one +single word for more than an hour; Muchross had not shouted for at +least twenty minutes; the only interruption that had occurred was an +unexpected stopping of the coach, for the off-leader was pulling +Dicky so hard that he had to ask Jem to take the ribbons, and now he +snoozed in the great whip's place, seriously incommoding Snowdown +with his great weight. Suddenly awaking to a sense of his +responsibility Muchross roared-- + +"What about the milk-cans?" + +"You'd better be quick," answered Jem, "we shall be there in five +minutes." + +One of the customs of the road was a half-crown lottery, the winning +member to be decided by the number of milk-cans outside a certain +farm-house. + +"Ease off a bit, Jem," bawled Muchross. "Damn you! give us time to +get the numbers out." + +"It ain't my fault if you fall asleep." + +"The last stage was five miles this side of Cuckfield, you ought to +know the road by this time. How many are we?" + +"Eight," shouted Dicky, blowing the blatant horn. "You're on, Jem, +aren't you? Number two or three will get it; at this time of the year +milk is scarce. Pass on the hat quick; quick, you devil, pass it on. +What have you got, Kitty?" + +"Just like my luck," cried Muchross; "I've got eight." + +"And I've seven," said Snowdown; "never have I won yet. In the autumn +I get sevens and eights, in the summer ones and twos. Damn!" + +"I've got five," said Kitty, "and Mike has got two; always the lucky +one. A lady leaves him four thousand a year, and he comes down here +and rooks us." + +The coach swept up a gentle ascent, and Muchross shouted-- + +"Two milk-cans! Hand him over the quid and chuck him out!" + +The downs rose, barring the sky; and they passed along the dead level +of the weald, leaving Henfield on their right; and when a great piece +of Gothic masonry appeared between some trees, Mike told Kitty how it +had been once John Norton's intention to build a monastery. + +"He would have founded a monastery had he lived two centuries ago," +said Harding; "but this is an age of concessions, and instead he puts +up a few gargoyles. Time modifies but does not eradicate, and the +modern King Cophetua marries not the beggar, but the bar-maid." + +The conversation fell in silence, full of consternation; and all +wondered if the two ladies in front had understood, and they were +really bar-maids. Be this as it may, they maintained their +unalterable reserve; and with suppressed laughter, Mike persuaded +Dicky, who had resumed the ribbons, to turn into the lodge-gates. + +"Who is this Johnny?" shouted Muchross. "If he won't stand a drink, +we don't want none of his blooming architecture." + +"And I wouldn't touch a man with a large pole who didn't like women," +said Laura. At which emphatic but naive expression of opinion, the +whole coach roared;--even the bar-girls smiled. + +"Architecture! It is a regular putty castle," said Kitty, as they +turned out of an avenue of elms and came in view of the house. + +Not a trace of the original Italian house remained. The loggia had +been replaced by a couple of Gothic towers. Over the central hall he +had placed a light lantern roof, and the billiard-room had been +converted into a chapel. A cold and corpse-like sky was flying; the +shadows falling filled the autumn path with sensations of deep +melancholy. But the painted legend of St. George overthrowing the +dragon, which John had placed in commemoration of his victories over +himself, in the central hall, glowed full of colour and story; and in +the melodious moan of the organ, and in the resonant chord which +closes the awful warning of the _Dies Irae_, he realized the soul of +his friend. Castle, window, and friend were now one in his brain, and +seized with dim, undefinable weariness of his companions, and an +irritating longing to see John, Mike said-- + +"I must go and see him." + +"We can't wait here while you are paying visits; who doesn't like +getting drunk or singing, 'What cheer, Ria?' Let's give him a song." +Then the whole coach roared: even the bar-girls joined in. + + "What cheer, Ria? + Ria's on the job; + What cheer, Ria? + Speculate a bob." + +As soon as he could make himself heard, Mike said-- + +"You need not wait for me. We are only five minutes from Brighton. +I'll ride over in an hour's time. Do you wait for me at the Ship, +Kitty." + +"I don't think this at all nice of you." + +Mike waved his hand; and as he stood on the steps of this Gothic +mansion, listening to the chant, watching the revellers disappearing +in the gray and yellow gloom of the park, he said-- + +"The man here is the one who has seized what is best in life; he +alone has loved. I should have founded with him a new religious +order. I should walk with him at the head of the choir. Bah! life is +too pitifully short. I should like to taste of every pleasure--of +every emotion; and what have I tasted? Nothing. I have done nothing. +I have wheedled a few women who wanted to be wheedled, that is all." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +"And how are you, old chap? I am delighted to see you." + +"I'm equally glad to see you. You have made alterations in the place +... I came down from London with a lot of Johnnies and tarts--Kitty +Carew, Laura Stanley and her sister. I got Dicky the driver to turn +in here. You were playing the _Dies Irae_. I never was more impressed +in my life. You should have seen the coach beneath the great window +... St. George overcoming the Johnnies ... the tumult of the organ ... +and I couldn't stand singing 'Two Lovely Black Eyes.' I sickened of +them--the whole thing--and I felt I must see you." + +"And are they outside?" + +"No; they have gone off." + +Relieved of fear of intrusion, John laughed loudly, and commented +humorously on the spectacle of the Brighton coach filled with +revellers drawn up beneath his window. Then, to discuss the +window--the quality of the glass--he turned out the lamps; the hall +filled with the legend, and their hearts full of it, and delighting +in the sensation of each other, they walked up and down the echoing +hall. John remembered a certain fugue by Bach, and motioning to the +page to blow, he seated himself at the key-board. The celestial +shield and crest still remained in little colour. Mike saw John's +hands moving over the key-board, and his soul went out in worship of +that soul, divided from the world's pleasure, self-sufficing, alone; +seeking God only in his home of organ fugue and legended pane. He +understood the nobleness and purity which was now about him--it +seemed impossible to him to return to Kitty. + +Swift and complete reaction had come upon him, and choked with the +moral sulphur of the last twenty-four hours, he craved the breath of +purity. He must talk of Plato's _Republic_, of Wagner's operas, of +Schopenhauer; even Lily was not now so imperative as these; and next +day, after lunch, when the question of his departure was alluded to, +Mike felt it was impossible to leave John; but persecuted with +scruples of disloyalty to Kitty, he resisted his friend's invitation +to stay. He urged he had no clothes. John offered to send the +coachman into Brighton for what he wanted. + +"But perhaps you have no money," John said, inadvertently, and a look +of apprehension passed into his face. + +"Oh, I have plenty of money--'tisn't that. I haven't told you that a +friend of mine, a lady, has left me nearly five thousand a year. I +don't think you ever saw her--Lady Seeley." + +John burst into uncontrollable laughter. "That is the best thing I +ever heard in all my life. I don't think I ever heard anything that +amused me more. The grotesqueness of the whole thing." Seeing that +Mike was annoyed he hastened to explain his mirth. "The +inexplicableness of human action always amuses me; the inexplicable +is romance, at least that is the only way I can understand romance. +When you reduce life to a logical sequence you destroy all poetry, +and, I think, all reality. We do things constantly, and no one can +say why we do them. Frederick the Great coming in, after reviewing +his troops, to play the flute, that to me is intensely romantic. A +lady, whom you probably treated exceedingly badly, leaving you her +property, that too is, to me." + +Admonished by his conscience, John's hilarity clouded into a sort of +semi-humorous gravity, and he advised Mike on the necessity of +reforming his life. + +"I am very sorry, for there is no one whose society is as attractive +to me as yours; there is no one in whom I find so many of my ideas, +and yet there is no one from whom I am so widely separated; at times +you are sublime, and then you turn round and roll in the nastiest +dirt you can find." + +Mike loved a lecture from John, and he exerted himself to talk. + +Looking at each other in admiration, they regretted the other's +weaknesses. Mike deplored John's conscience, which had forced him to +burn his poems; John deplored Mike's unsteady mind, which veered and +yielded to every passion. And in the hall they talked of the great +musician and the great king, or John played the beautiful hymns of +the Russian Church, in whose pathetic charm he declared Chopin had +found his inspiration; they spoke of the _Grail_ and the _Romance of +the Swan_, or, wandering into the library, they read aloud the +ever-flowering eloquence of De Quincey, the marmoreal loveliness of +Landor, the nurselike tenderness of Tennyson. + +Through all these aestheticisms Lily Young shone, her light waxing to +fulness day by day. Mike had written to Frank, beseeching him to +forward any letters that might arrive. He expected an answer from +Lily within the week, and not until its close did he begin to grow +fearful. Then rapidly his fear increased and unable to bear with so +much desire in the presence of John Norton, he rushed to London, and +thence to Marlow. He railed against his own weakness in going to +Marlow, for if a letter had arrived it would have been forwarded to +him. + +"Why deceive myself with false hopes? If the letter had miscarried it +would have been returned through the post-office. I wrote my address +plain enough." Then he railed against Lily. "The little vixen! She +will show that letter; she will pass it round; perhaps at this moment +she is laughing at me! What a fool I was to write it! However, all's +well that ends well, and I am not going to be married--I have escaped +after all." + +The train jogged like his thoughts, and the landscape fled in +fleeting visions like his dreams. He laid his face in his hands, and +could not disguise the truth that he desired her above all things, +for she was the sweetest he had seen. + +"There are," he said, talking to Frank and Lizzie, "two kinds of +love--the first is a strictly personal appetite, which merely seeks +its own assuagement; the second draws you out of yourself, and is far +more terrible. I have found both these loves, but in different +women." + +"Did no woman ever inspire both loves in you?" said Lizzie. + +"I thought one woman had." + +"Oh, tell us about her." + +Mike changed the conversation, and he talked of the newspaper until +it was time to go to the station. He was now certain that Lily had +rejected him. His grief soaked through him like a wet, dreary day. +Sometimes, indeed, he seemed to brighten, but there is often a deeper +sadness in a smile than in a flood of tears, and he was more than +ever sad when he thought of the life he had desired, and had lost; +which he had seen almost within his reach, and which had now +disappeared for ever. He had thought of this life as a green isle, +where there were flowers and a shrine. Isle, flowers, and shrine had +for ever vanished, and nothing remained but the round monotony of the +desert ocean. Then throwing off his grief with a laugh, he eagerly +anticipated the impressions of the visit he meditated to Belthorpe +Park, and his soul went out to meet this new adventure. He thought of +the embarrassment of the servants receiving their new master; of the +attitude of the country people towards him; and deciding that he had +better arrive before dinner, just as if he were a visitor, he sent a +telegram saying that the groom was to meet him at the station, and +that dinner was to be prepared. + +Lady Seeley's solicitors had told him that according to her +ladyship's will, Belthorpe was to be kept up exactly as it had been +in her life-time, and the servants had received notice, that in +pursuance of her ladyship's expressed wish, Mr. Fletcher would make +no changes, and that they were free to remain on if they thought +proper. Mike approved of this arrangement--it saved him from a task +of finding new servants, a task which he would have bungled sadly, +and which he would have had to attempt, for he had decided to enjoy +all the pleasures of a country place, and to act the country +gentleman until he wearied of the part. Life is but a farce, and the +more different parts you play in that farce the more you enjoy. Here +was a new farce--he the Bohemian, going down to an old ancestral home +to play the part of the Squire of the parish. It could not but prove +rich in amusing situations, and he was determined to play it. What a +sell it would be for Lily, for perhaps she had refused him because +she thought he was poor. Contemptuous thoughts about women rose in +his mind, but they died in thronging sensations of vanity--he, at +least, had not found women mercenary. Lily was the first! Then +putting thoughts of her utterly aside, he surrendered himself to the +happy consideration of his own good fortune. "A new farce! Yes; that +was the way to look upon it. I wonder what the servants will think! I +wonder what they'll think of me! ... Harrison, the butler, was with +her in Green Street. Her maid, Fairfield, was with her when I saw her +last--nearly three years ago. Fairfield knew I was her lover, and she +has told the others. But what does it matter? I don't care a damn +what they think. Besides, servants are far more jealous of our honour +than we are ourselves; they'll trump up some story about cousinship, +or that I had saved her ladyship's life--not a bad notion that last; +I had better stick to it myself." + +As he sought a plausible tale, his thoughts detached themselves, and +it struck him that the gentleman sitting opposite was his next-door +neighbour. He imagined his visit; the invitation to dine; the +inevitable daughters in the drawing-room. How would he be received by +the county folks? + +"That depends," he thought, "entirely on the number of unmarried +girls there are in the neighbourhood. The morals and manners of an +English county are determined by its female population. If the number +of females is large, manners are familiar, and morals are lax; if the +number is small, manners are reserved, and morals severe." + +He was in a carriage with two unmistakably county squires, and their +conversation--certain references to a meet of the hounds and a local +bazaar--left no doubt that they were his neighbours. Indeed, Lady +Seeley was once alluded to, and Mike was agitated with violent +desires to introduce himself as the owner of Belthorpe Park. Several +times he opened his lips, but their talk suddenly turned into matters +so foreign that he abandoned the notion of revealing his identity, +and five minutes after he congratulated himself he had not done so. + +The next station was Wantage Street; and as he looked to see that the +guard had put out his portmanteau, a smart footman approached, and +touching his cockaded hat said, "Mr. Fletcher." Mike thrilled with +pride. His servant--his first servant. + +"I've brought the dog-cart, sir; I thought it would be the quickest; +it will take us a good hour, the roads are very heavy, sir." + +Mike noticed the coronet worked in red upon the yellow horse-cloth, +for the lamps cast a bright glow over the mare's quarters; and +wishing to exhibit himself in all his new fortune before his +fellow-passengers, who were getting into a humbler conveyance, he +took the reins from the groom; and when he turned into the wrong +street, he cursed under his breath, fancying all had noticed his +misadventure. When they were clear of the town, touching the mare +with the whip he said-- + +"Not a bad animal, this." + +"Beautiful trotter, sir. Her ladyship bought her only last spring; +gave seventy guineas for her." + +After a slight pause, Mike said, "Very sad, her ladyship's death, and +quite unexpected, I suppose. She wasn't ill above a couple of days." + +"Not what you might call ill, sir; but her ladyship had been ailing +for a long time past. The doctors ordered her abroad last winter, +sir, but I don't think it did her much good. She came back looking +very poorly." + +"Now tell me which is the way? do I turn to the right or left?" + +"To the right, sir." + +"How far are we from Belthorpe Park now?" + +"About three miles, sir." + +"You were saying that her ladyship looked very poorly for some time +before she died. Tell me how she looked. What do you think was the +matter?" + +"Well, sir, her ladyship seemed very much depressed. I heard Miss +Fairfield, her ladyship's maid, say that she used to find her +ladyship constantly in tears; her nerves seemed to have given way." + +"I suppose I broke her heart," thought Mike; "but I'm not to blame; I +couldn't go on loving any woman for ever, not if she were Venus +herself." And questioning the groom regarding the servants then at +Belthorpe, he learnt with certain satisfaction that Fairfield had +left immediately after her ladyship's death. The groom had never +heard of Harrison (he had only been a year and a half in her +ladyship's service). + +"This is Belthorpe Park, sir--these are the lodge gates." + +Mike was disappointed in the lodge. The park he could not +distinguish. Mist hung like a white fleece. There were patches of +ferns; hawthorns loomed suddenly into sight; high trees raised their +bare branches to the brilliancy of the moon. + +"Not half bad," thought Mike, "quite a gentleman's place." + +"Rather rough land in parts--plenty of rabbits," he remarked to the +groom; and he won the man's sympathies by various questions +concerning the best method of getting hunters into condition. The +rooks talked gently in the branches of some elms, around which the +drive turned through rough undulating ground. Plantations became +numerous; tall, spire-like firs appeared, their shadows floating +through the interspaces; and, amid straight walks and dwarf yews, in +the fulness of the moonlight, there shone a white house, with large +French windows and a tower at the further end. A white peacock asleep +on a window-sill startled Mike, and he thought of the ghost of his +dead mistress. + +Nor could he account for his trepidation as he waited for the front +door to open, and Hunt seemed to him aggressively large and pompous, +and he would have preferred an assumption on the part of the servant +that he knew the relative positions of the library and drawing-room. +But Hunt was resolved on explanation, and as they went up-stairs he +pointed out the room where Lady Seeley died, and spoke of the late +Earl. "You want the sack and you shall get it, my friend," thought +Mike, and he glanced hurriedly at the beautiful pieces of furniture +about the branching staircase and the gallery leading into the +various corridors. At dinner he ate without noticing the choiceness +of the cooking, and he drank several glasses of champagne before he +remarked the excellence of the wine. + +"We have not many dozen left, sir; I heard that his lordship laid it +down in '75." + +Hunt watched him with cat-like patience and hound-like sagacity, and +seeing he had forgotten his cigar-case, he instantly produced a box. +Mike helped himself without daring to ask where the cigars came from, +nor did he comment on their fragrance. He smoked in discomfort; the +presence of the servant irritated him, and he walked into the library +and shut the door. The carved panelling, in the style of the late +Italian renaissance, was dark and shadowy, and the eyes of the +portraits looked upon the intruder. Men in armour, holding scrolls; +men in rich doublets, their hands on their swords; women in elaborate +dresses of a hundred tucks, and hooped out prodigiously. He was +especially struck by one, a lady in green, who played with long white +hands on a spinet. But the massive and numerous oak bookcases, +strictly wired with strong brass wire, and the tall oak fireplace, +surmounted with a portrait of a man in a red coat holding a letter, +whetted the edge of his depression, and Mike looked round with a pain +of loneliness upon his face. Speaking aloud for relief, he said-- + +"No doubt it is all very fine, everything is up to the mark, but +there's no denying that it is--well, it is dull. Had I known it was +going to be like this I'd have brought somebody down with me--a nice +woman. Kitty would be delightful here. But no; I would not bring her +here for ten times the money the place is worth; to do so would be an +insult on Helen's memory.... Poor dear Helen! I wish I had seen her +before she died; and to think that she has left me all--a beautiful +house, plate, horses, carriages, wine; nothing is wanting; everything +I have is hers, even this cigar." He threw the end of his cigar into +the fireplace. + +"How strange! what an extraordinary transformation! And all this is +mine, even her ancestors! How angry that old fellow looks at me--me, +the son of an Irish peasant! Yes, my father was that--well, not +exactly that, he was a grazier. But why fear the facts? he was a +peasant; and my mother was a French maid--well, a governess--well, a +nursery governess, _une bonne_; she was dismissed from her situation +for carrying on (it seems awful to speak of one's mother so; but it +is the fact).... Respect! I love my mother well enough, but I'm not +going to delude myself because I had a mother. Mother didn't like our +cabin by the roadside; father treated her badly; she ran away, taking +me with her. She was lucky enough to meet with a rich manufacturer, +who kept her fairly well--I believe he used to allow her a thousand +francs a month--and I used to call him uncle. When mother died he +sent me back to my father in Ireland. That's my history. There's not +much blue blood in me.... I believe if one went back.... Bah, if +one went back! Why deceive myself? I was born a peasant, and I know +it.... Yet no one looks more like a gentleman; reversion to some +original ancestor, I suppose. Not one of these earls looks more like +a gentleman than I. But I don't suppose my looks would in any measure +reconcile them to the fact of my possession of their property. + +"Ah, you old fools--periwigs, armour, and scrolls--you old fools, you +laboured only to make a gentleman of an Irish peasant. Yes, you +laboured in vain, my noble lords--you, old gentleman yonder, you with +the telescope--an admiral, no doubt--you sailed the seas in vain; and +you over there, you mediaeval-looking cuss, you carried your armour +through the battles of Cressy and Poictiers in vain; and you, noble +lady in the high bodice, you whose fingers play with the flaxen curls +of that boy--he was the heir of this place two hundred years ago--I +say, you bore him in vain, your labour was in vain; and you, old +fogey that you are, you in the red coat, you holding the letter in +your gouty fingers, a commercial-looking letter, you laboured in +trade to rehabilitate the falling fortunes of the family, and I say +you too laboured in vain. Without labour, without ache, I possess the +result of all your centuries of labour. + +"There, that sordid, wizen old lady, a miser to judge by her +appearance, she is eyeing me maliciously now, but I say all her +eyeing is in vain; she pinched and scraped and starved herself for +me. Yes, I possess all your savings, and if you were fifty years +younger you would not begrudge them to me." + +Laughing at his folly, Mike said, "How close together lie the sane +and the insane; any one who had overheard me would have pronounced me +mad as a March hare, and yet few are saner." He walked twice across +the room. "But I'm mad for the moment, and I like to be mad. Have I +not all things--talent, wealth, love? I asked for life, and I was +given life. I have drunk the cup--no, not to the dregs, there is +plenty more wine in the cup for me; the cup is full, I have not +tasted it yet. Lily! yes, I must get her; a fool I have been; my +letter miscarried, else she would have written. Refuse me! who would +refuse me? Yes, I was born to drink the cup of life as few have drunk +it; I shall drink it even like a Roman emperor ... But they drank it +to madness and crime! Yet even so; I shall drink of life even to +crime. + +"The peasant and the card-sharper shall go high, this impetus shall +carry me very high; and Frank Escott, that mean cad, shall go to the +gutter; but he is already there, and I am here! I knew it would be +so; I felt my destiny, I felt it here--in my brain. I felt it even +when he scorned me in boyhood days. I believe that in those days he +expected me to touch my cap to him. But those days are over, new days +have begun. When to-morrow's sun rises it will shine on what is +mine--down-land, meadow-land, park-land, and wood-land. Strange is +the joy of possession; I did not know of its existence. The stately +house too is mine, and I would see it. But that infernal servant, I +suppose, is in bed. I would not have him find me. I shall get rid of +him. I can hear him saying in his pantry, 'He! I wouldn't give much +for him; I found him last night spying about, examining his fine +things, for all the world like a beggar to whom you had given an old +suit of clothes.'" + +Mike took his bed-room candle, and having regard for surprises on the +part of the servants, he roamed about the passages, looking at the +Chippendale furniture on the landings and the pictures and engravings +that lined the walls. Fearing bells, he did not attempt to enter any +of the rooms, and it was with some difficulty that he found his way +back to the library. Throwing himself into the arm-chair, he wondered +if he should grow accustomed to spend his evenings in this +loneliness. He thought of whom he should invite there--Harding, +Thompson, John Norton; certainly he would ask John. He couldn't ask +Frank without his wife, and Lizzie would prejudice him in the eyes of +the county people. Then, as his thoughts detached themselves, he +exclaimed against the sepulchral solemnity of the library. The house +was soundless. At the window he heard the soft moonlight-dreaming of +the rooks; and when he threw open the window the white peacock +roosting there flew away and paraded on the pale sward like a Watteau +lady. + +Next morning, rousing in the indolence of a bed hung with curtains of +Indian pattern, Mike said to the footman who brought in his hot +water-- + +"Tell the coachman that I shall go out riding after breakfast." + +"What horse will you ride, sir?" + +"I don't know what horses you have in the stable." + +"Well, sir, you can ride either her ladyship's hunter or the mare +that brought you from the station in the dog-cart." + +"Very well. I'll ride her ladyship's hunter. (My hunter, damn the +fellow," he said, under his breath.) "And tell the bailiff I shall +want him; let him come round on his horse. I shall go over the farms +with him." + +The morning was chilly. He stood before the fire while the butler +brought in eggs, kidneys, devilled legs of fowl, and coffee. The +beauty of the coffee-pot caught his eye, and he admired the plate +that made such rich effect on the old Chippendale sideboard. The +peacocks on the window-sills, knocking with their strong beaks for +bread, pleased him; they recalled evenings passed with Helen; she had +often spoken of her love for these birds. He went to the window with +bread for the peacocks, and the landscape came into his eyes: the +clump of leafless trees on the left, rugged and untidy with rooks' +nests; the hollow, dipping plain, melancholy of aspect now, misty, +gray and brown beneath a lowering sky, dipping and then rising in a +long, wide shape, and ringing the sky with a brown line. The terrace +with its straight walks, balustrades, urns, and closely-cropped yews +was a romantic note, severe, even harsh. + +One day, wandering from room to room, he found himself in Helen's +bedroom. "There is the bed she died in, there is the wardrobe." Mike +opened the wardrobe. He turned the dresses over, seeking for those he +knew; but he had not seen her for three years, and there were new +dresses, and he had forgotten the old. Suddenly he came upon one of +soft, blue material, and he remembered she wore that dress the first +time she sat on his knees. Feeling the need of an expressive action, +he buried his face in the pale blue dress, seeking in its softness +and odour commemoration of her who lay beneath the pavement. How +desolate was the room! He would not linger. This room must be forever +closed, left to the silence, the mildew, the dust, and the moth. None +must enter here but he, it must be sacred from other feet. Once a +year, on her anniversary, he would come to mourn her, and not on the +anniversary of her death, but on that of their first kiss. He had +forgotten the exact day, and feared he had not preserved all her +letters. Perhaps she had preserved his. + +Moved with such an idea he passed out of her bedroom, and calling for +_his_ keys, went into her boudoir and opened her escritoire, and very +soon he found his letters; almost the first he read, ran as follows-- + + +"MY DEAR HELEN, + +"I am much obliged to you for your kind invitation. I should like +very much to come and stay with you, if I may come as your friend. +You must not think from this that I have fallen in love with some one +else; I have not. I have never seen any one I shall love better than +you; I love you to-day as well as ever I did; my feelings regarding +you have changed in nothing, yet I cannot come as your lover. I am +ashamed of myself, I hate myself, but it is not my fault. + +"I have been your lover for more than a year, and I could not be any +one's lover--no, not if she were Venus herself--for a longer time. + +"My heart is full of regret. I am losing the best and sweetest +mistress ever man had. No one is able to appreciate your worth better +than I. Try to understand me; do not throw this letter aside in a +rage. You are a clever woman; you are, I know, capable of +understanding it. And if you will understand, you will not regret; +that I swear, for you will gain the best and most loyal friend. I am +as good a friend as I am a worthless lover. Try to understand, Helen, +I am not wholly to blame. + +"I love you--I esteem you far more to-day than I did when I first +knew you. Do not let our love end upon a miserable quarrel--the +commonplace quarrel of those who do not know how to love." + + +He turned the letter over. He was the letter; that letter was his +shameful human nature; and worse, it was the human nature of the +whole wide world. On the same point, or on some other point, every +human being was as base as he. Such baseness is the inalienable +birth-stain of human life. His poem was no pretty imagining, but the +eternal, implacable truth. It were better that human life should +cease. Until this moment he had only half understood its awful, its +terrifying truth.... It were better that man ceased to pollute the +earth. His history is but the record of crime; his existence is but a +disgraceful episode in the life of one of the meanest of the planets. + +We cannot desire what we possess, and so we progress from illusion to +illusion. But when we cease to distinguish between ourself and +others, when our thoughts are no longer set on the consideration of +our own embarrassed condition, when we see into the heart of things, +which is one, then disappointment and suffering cease to have any +meaning, and we attain that true serenity and peace which we +sometimes see reflected in a seraph's face by Raphael. + +As Mike's thoughts floated in the boundless atmosphere of +Schopenhauer's poem, of the denial of the will to live, he felt +creeping upon him, like sleep upon tired eyelids, all the sweet and +suasive fascination of death. "How little," he thought, "does any man +know of any other man's soul. Who among my friends would believe that +I, in all my intense joys and desire of life, am perhaps, at heart, +the saddest man, and perhaps sigh for death more ardently, and am +tempted to cull the dark fruit which hangs so temptingly over the +wall of the garden of life more ardently than any one?" + +A few days after, his neighbour, Lord Spennymoor, called, and his +visit was followed by an invitation to dinner. The invitation was +accepted. Mike was on his best behaviour. During dinner he displayed +as much reserve as his nature allowed him to, but afterwards, +yielding to the solicitations of the women, he abandoned himself, and +when twelve o'clock struck they were still gathered round him, +listening to him with rapt expression, as if in hearing of delightful +music. Awaking suddenly to a sense of the hour and his indiscretion, +he bade Lord Spennymoor, who had sat talking all night with his +brother in a far corner, good-night. + +When the sound of the wheels of his trap died away, when the ladies +had retired, Lord Spennymoor returned to the smoking-room, and at the +end of a long silence asked his brother, who sat smoking opposite +him, what he thought of Fletcher. + +"He is one of those men who attract women, who attract nine people +out of ten.... Call it magnetism, electro-biology, give it what name +you will. The natural sciences----" + +"Never mind the natural sciences. Do you think that either of my +girls were--Victoria, for instance, was attracted by him? I don't +believe for a moment his story of having saved Lady Seeley from +drowning in Italy, but I'm bound to say he told it very well. I can +see the girls sitting round him listening. Poor Mrs. Dickens, her +eyes were----" + +"I shan't ask her here again.... But tell me, do you think he'll +marry?" + +"It would be very hard to say what will become of him. He may +suddenly weary of women and become a woman-hater, or perhaps he may +develop into a sort of Baron Hulot. He spoke about his writings--he +may become ambitious, and spend his life writing epics.... He may go +mad! He seemed interested in politics, he may go into Parliament; I +fancy he would do very well in Parliament. A sudden loathing of +civilization may come upon him and send him to Africa or the Arctic +Regions. A man's end is always infinitely more in accordance with his +true character than any conclusion we could invent. No writer, even +if he have genius, is so extravagantly logical as nature." + +During the winter months Mike was extensively occupied with the +construction of the mausoleum in red granite, which he was raising in +memory of Helen; and this interest remained paramount. He took many +journeys to London on its account, and studied all the architecture +on the subject, and with great books on his knees, he sat in the +library making drawings or composing epitaphs and memorial poems. + +Belthorpe Park was often full of visitors, and when walking with them +on the terraces, his thoughts ran on Mount Rorke Castle, his own +success, and Frank's failure; and when he awoke in the sweet, +luxurious rooms, in the houses where he was staying, his brain filled +with febrile sensations of triumph, and fitful belief that he was +above any caprice of destiny. + +It pleased him to write letters with Belthorpe Park printed on the +top of the first page, and he wrote many for this reason. Quick with +affectionate remembrances, he thought of friends he had not thought +of for years, and the sadnesses of these separations touched him +deeply; and the mutability of things moved him in his very entrails, +and he thought that perhaps no one had felt these things as he felt +them. He remembered the women who had passed out of his life, and +looking out on his English park, soaking with rain and dim with mist, +he remembered those whom he had loved, and the peak whence he viewed +the desert district of his amours--Lily Young. She haunted in his +life. + +He saw himself a knight in the tourney, and her eyes fixed on him, +while he calmed his fiery dexter and tilted for her; he saw her in +the silk comfort of the brougham, by his side, their bodies rocked +gently together; he saw her in the South when reading Mrs. Byril's +descriptions of rocky coast and olive fields. + +The English park lay deep in snow, and the familiar word roses then +took magical significance, and the imagined Southern air was full of +Lily. + +"There's a sweet girl here, and I'm sure you would like her; she is +so slender, so blithe and winsome, and so wayward. She has been sent +abroad for her health, and is forbidden to go out after sunset, but +will not obey. I am afraid she is dying of consumption.... She has +taken a great fancy to me. There is no one in our hotel but a few old +maids, who discuss the peerage, and she runs after me to talk about +men. I fancy she must have carried on pretty well with some one, for +she loves talking about _him_, and is full of mysterious allusions." + +The romance of the sudden introduction of this girl into the +landscape took him by the throat. He saw himself walking with this +dying girl in the beauty of blue mountains toppling into blue skies, +and reflected in bluer seas; he sat with her beneath the palm-trees; +palms spread their fan-like leaves upon sky and sea, and in the rich +green of their leaves oranges grew to deep, and lemons to paler, +gold; and he dreamed that the knowledge that the object of his love +was transitory, would make his love perfect and pure. Now in his +solitude, with no object to break it, this desire for love in death +haunted in his mind. It rose unbidden, like a melody, stealing forth +and surprising him in unexpected moments. Often he asked himself why +he did not pack up his portmanteau and rush away; and he was only +deterred by the apparent senselessness of the thought. "What slaves +we are of habit! Why more stupid to go than to remain?" + +Soon after, he received another letter from Mrs. Byril. He glanced +through it eagerly for some mention of the girl. Whatever there was +of sweetness and goodness in Mike's nature was reflected in his eyes +(soft violet eyes, in which tenderness dwelt), whatever there was of +evil was written in the lips and chin (puckered lips and goat-like +chin), the long neck and tiny head accentuating the resemblance. + +Now his being was concentrated in the eyes as a landscape is +sometimes in a piece of sky. He read: "She told me that she had been +once to see her lover in the Temple." It was then Lily. He turned to +Mrs. Byril's first letter, and saw Lily in every line of the +description. Should he go to her? Of course ... When? At once! Should +it not prove to be Lily? ... He did not care ... He must go, and in +half an hour he touched the swiftly trotting mare with the whip and +glanced at his watch. "I shall just do it." The hedges passed behind, +and the wintry prospects were unfolded and folded away. But as he +approached the station, a rumble and then a rattle came out of the +valley, and though he lashed the mare into a gallop, he arrived only +in time to see a vanishing cloud of steam. + +The next train did not reach London till long after the mail had left +Charing Cross. + +It froze hard during the night, and next morning his feet chilled in +his thin shoes, as he walked to and fro, seeking a carriage holding a +conversational-looking person. At Dover the wind was hard as the +ice-bound steps which he descended, and the sea rolled in dolefully +about the tall cliffs, melting far away into the bleak grayness of +the sky. But more doleful than the bleak sea was sullen Picardy. Mike +could not sleep, and his eyes fed upon the bleak black of swampy +plains, utterly mournful, strangely different from green and gladsome +England. And two margins of this doleful land remained impressed upon +his mind; the first, a low grange, discoloured, crouching on the +plain, and curtained by seven lamentable poplars, and Mike thought of +the human beings that came from it, to see only a void landscape, and +to labour in bleak fields. He remembered also a marsh with osier-beds +and pools of water; and in the largest of these there was a black and +broken boat. Thin sterile hills stretched their starved forms in the +distance, and in the raw wintry light this landscape seemed like a +page of the primitive world, and the strange creature striving with +an oar recalled our ancestors. + +Paris was steeped in great darkness and starlight, and the cab made +slow and painful way through the frost-bound streets. The amble and +the sliding of the horse was exasperating, the drive unendurable with +uncertainty and cold, and Mike hammered his frozen feet on the +curving floor of the vehicle. Street succeeded street, all growing +meaner as they neared the Gare de Lyons. Fearing he should miss the +express he called to the impassive driver to hasten the vehicle. +Three minutes remained to take his ticket and choose a carriage, and +hoping for sleep and dreams of Lily, he rolled himself up in a rug +for which he had paid sixty guineas, and fell asleep. + +Ten hours after, he was roused by the guard, and stretching his +stiffened limbs, he looked out, and in the vague morning saw towzled +and dilapidated travellers, slipping upon the thin ice that covered +the platform, striving to reach long, rough tables, spread with +coffee, fruit, and wine. Mike drank some coffee, and thinking of Mrs. +Byril's roses, wondered when they should get into the sunshine. + +As the train moved out of the platform the twilight vanished into +daylight, the sky flushed, and he saw a scant land, ragged and torn +with twisted plants, cacti and others, gashed and red, and savage as +a negress's lips. So he saw the South through the breath-misted +windows. He lay back; he dozed a little, and awoke an hour after to +feel soft air upon the face, and to see a bush laden with blossom +literally singing the spring. Thenceforth at every mile the land grew +into more frequent bloom. The gray-green olive-tree appeared, a +crooked, twisted tree--habitual phase of the red land--and between +its foliage gray-green brick facades, burnt and re-burnt by the sun. +The roofs of the houses grew flatter and campanile, and the domes +rose, silvery or blue, in the dazzling day. A mountain shepherd, +furnished with water-gourd, a seven-foot staff, and a gigantic pipe, +lingered in the country railway-station. This shepherd's skin was +like coffee, and he wore hair hanging far over his shoulders, and his +beard reached to his waist. + +Nice! A town of cheap fashion, a town of glass and stucco. The +pungent odour of the eucalyptus trees, the light breeze stirred not +the foliage, sheared into mathematical lines. It was like yards of +baize dwindling in perspective; and between the tall trunks great +plate-glass windows gleamed, filled with _l'article de Londres_. + +He drove to the hotel from which Mrs. Byril had written, and learnt +that she had left yesterday, and that Mrs. and Miss Young were not +staying there. They had no such name on the books. Looking on the sea +and mountains he wondered himself what it all meant. + +Having bathed and changed his clothes, he sallied forth in a cab to +call at every hotel in the town, and after three hours' fruitless +search, returned in despair. Never before had life seemed so sad; +never had fate seemed so cruel--he had come a thousand miles to +regenerate his life, and an accident, the accident of a departure, +hastened perhaps only by a day, had thrown him back on the past; he +had imagined a beautiful future made of love, goodness, and truth, +and he found himself thrown back upon the sterile shore of a past of +which he was weary, and of whose fruits he had eaten even to satiety. +After much effort he had made sure that nothing mattered but Lily, +neither wealth nor liberty, nor even his genius. In surrendering all +he would have gained all--peace of mind, unending love and goodness. +Goodness! that which he had never known, that which he now knew was +worth more than gratification of flesh and pride of spirit. + +The night was full of tumult and dreams--dreams of palms, and seas, +and endless love, and in the morning he walked into the realities of +his imaginings. + +Passing through an archway, he found himself in the gaud of the +flower-market. There a hundred umbrellas, yellow, red, mauve and +magenta, lemon yellow, cadmium yellow, gold, a multi-coloured mass +spread their extended bellies to a sky blue as the blouses. + +The brown fingers of the peasant women are tying and pressing all the +miraculous bloom of the earth into the fair fingers of Saxon +girls--great packages of roses, pink lilies, clematis, stephanotis, +and honeysuckle. A gentle breeze is blowing, rocking the umbrellas, +wafting the odour of the roses and honeysuckle, bringing hither an +odour of the lapping tide, rocking the immense umbrellas. One huge +and ungainly sunshade creaks, swaying its preposterous rotundity. +Beneath it the brown woman slices her pumpkin. Mike scanned every +thin face for Lily, and as he stood wedged against a flower-stand, a +girl passed him. She turned. It was Lily. + +"Lily, is it possible? I was looking for you everywhere." + +"Looking for me! When did you arrive in Nice? How did you know I was +here?" + +"Mrs. Byril wrote. She described a girl, and I knew from her +description it must be you. And I came on at once." + +"You came on at once to find me?" + +"Yes; I love you more than ever. I can think only of you.... But when +I arrived I found Mrs. Byril had left, and I had no means of finding +your address." + +"You foolish boy; you mean to say you rushed away on the chance that +I was the girl described in Mrs. Byril's letter! ... A thousand miles! +and never even waited to ask the name or the address! Well, I suppose +I must believe that you are in love. But you have not heard.... They +say I'm dying. I have only one lung left. Do you think I'm looking +very ill?" + +"You are looking more lovely than ever. My love shall give you +health; we shall go--where shall we go? To Italy? You are my Italy. +But I'm forgetting--why did you not answer my letter? It was cruel of +you. Deceive me no more, play with me no longer; if you will not have +me, say so, and I will end myself, for I cannot live without you." + +"But I do not understand, I haven't had any letter; what letter?" + +"I wrote asking you to marry me." + +They walked out of the flower market on to the _Promenade des +Anglais_, and Mike told her about his letters, concealing nothing of +his struggle. The sea lay quite blue and still, lapping gently on the +spare beach; the horizon floated on the sea, almost submerged, and +the mountains, every edge razor-like, hard, and metallic, were veiled +in a deep, transparent blue; and the villas, painted white, pink and +green, with open loggias and balconies, completed the operatic +aspect. + +"My mother will not hear of it; she would sooner see me dead than +married to you." + +"Why?" + +"She knows you are an atheist for one thing." + +"But she does not know that I have six thousand a year." + +"Six thousand a year! and who was the fairy that threw such fortune +into your lap? I thought you had nothing." + +Vanity took him by the throat, but he wrenched himself free, and +answered evasively that a distant cousin had left him a large sum of +money, including an estate in Berkshire. + +"Well, I'm very glad for your sake, but it will not influence +mother's opinion of you." + +"Then you will run away with me? Say you will." + +"That is the best--for I'm not strong enough to dispute with mother. +I dare say it is very cowardly of me, but I would avoid scenes; I've +had enough of them.... We'll go away together. Where shall we go? To +Italy?" + +"Yes, to Italy--my Italy. And do you love me? Have you forgiven me my +conduct the day when you came to see me?" + +"Yes, I love you; I have forgiven you." + +"And when shall we go?" + +"When you like. I should like to go over that sea; I should like to +go, Mike, with you, far away! Where, Mike?--Heaven?" + +"We should find heaven dull; but when shall we go across that sea, or +when shall we go from here--now?" + +"Now!" + +"Why not?" + +"Because here are my people coming to meet me. Now say nothing to my +mother about marriage, or she will never leave my side. I'm more ill +than you think I am--I should have no strength to struggle with her." + +Not again that day did Mike succeed in speaking alone with Lily, and +the next day she and her mother and Major Downside, her uncle, went +to spend the day with some friends who had a villa in the environs of +the town. The day after he met mother and daughter out walking in the +morning. In the afternoon Lily was obliged to keep her room. Should +she die! should the irreparable happen! Mike crushed the instinct, +that made him see a poem in the death of his beloved; and he +determined to believe that he should possess her, love her and only +her; he saw himself a new Mike, a perfect and true husband-lover. +Never was man more weary of vice, more desirous of reformation. + +He had studied the train service until he could not pretend to +himself there remained any crumb of excuse for further consideration +of it. He wandered about the corridors, a miserable man. On Sunday +she came down-stairs and drove to church with her mother. Mike +followed, and full of schemes for flight, holding a note ready to +slip into her hand, he wondered if such pallor as hers were for this +side of life. In the note it was written that he would wait all day +for her in the sitting-room, and about five, as he sat holding the +tattered newspaper, his thoughts far away in Naples, Algiers, and +Egypt, he heard a voice calling-- + +"Mike! Mike! Mother is lying down; I think we can get away now, if +there's a train before half-past five." + +Mike did not need to consult the time-table. He said, "At last, +at last, darling, come! ... Yes, there is a train for the Italian +frontier at a few minutes past five. We shall have just time to +catch it. Come!" + +But in the gardens they met the Major, who would not hear of his +niece being out after sunset, and sent her back. Mike overtook Lily +on the staircase. + +"I can endure this no longer," he said; "you must come with me +to-night when every one is in bed. There is a train at two." + +"I cannot; I have to pass through my mother's room. She would be sure +to awake." + +"Great Scott! what shall we do? My head is whirling. You must give +your mother a sleeping potion, will you? She drinks something before +she goes to bed?" + +"Yes, but----" + +"There must be no buts. It is a case of life and death. You do not +want to die, as many girls die. To many a girl marriage is life. I +will get something quite harmless, and quite tasteless." + +She waited for him in the sitting-room. He returned in a few minutes +with a small bottle, which he pressed into her hand. "And now, _au +revoir_; in a few hours you will be mine for ever." + +After leaving her he dined; after dinner went to a gambling hell, +where he lost a good deal of money, and would have lost more, had the +necessity of keeping at least L200 for his wedding-tour not been so +imperative. He wandered about the streets talking to and sometimes +strolling about with the light women, listening to their lamentable +stories--"anything," he thought, "to distract my mind." He was to +meet Lily on the staircase at one o'clock, and now it was half-past +twelve, and giving the poor creature whose chatter had beguiled the +last half-hour a louis, he returned hurriedly to his hotel. + +The lift had ceased working, and he ascended the great staircase, +three steps at a time. On the second floor he stopped to reconnoitre. +The _gardien_ lay fast asleep on a bench; he could not do better than +sit on the stairs and wait; if the man awoke he would have to be +bribed. Lily's number was 45, a dozen doors down the passage. At one +o'clock the _gardien_ awoke. Mike entered into conversation with him, +gave him a couple of francs, bade him good-night, and went partly up +the next flight of stairs. Listening for every sound, expecting every +moment to hear a door open, he waited till the clocks struck the +half-hour. Then he became as if insane, and he deemed it would not be +enough if she were to disappoint him to set the hotel on fire and +throw himself from the roof. Something must happen, if he were to +remain sane, and, determined to dare all, he decided he would seek +her in her room and bear her away. He knew he would have to pass +through Mrs. Young's room. What should he do if she awoke, and, +taking him for a robber, raised the alarm? + +Putting aside such surmises he turned the handle of her door as +quietly as he could. The lock gave forth hardly any sound, the door +passed noiselessly over the carpet. He hesitated, but only for a +moment, and drawing off his shoes he prepared to cross the room. A +night-light was burning, and it revealed the fat outline of a huge +body huddled in the bed-clothes. He would have to pass close to Mrs. +Young. He glided by, passing swiftly towards the further room, +praying that the door would open without a sound. It was ajar, and +opened without a sound. "What luck!" he thought, and a moment after +he stood in Lily's room. She lay upon the bed, as if she had fallen +there, dressed in a long travelling-cloak, her hat crushed on one +side. + +"Lily, Lily!" he whispered, "'tis I; awake! speak, tell me you are +not dead." She moved a little beneath his touch, then wetting a towel +in the water-jug he applied it to her forehead and lips, and slowly +she revived. + +"Where are we?" she asked. "Mike, darling, are we in Italy? ... I have +been ill, have I not? They say I'm going to die, but I'm not; I'm +going to live for you, my darling." + +Then she recovered recollection of what had happened, and whispered +that she had failed to give her mother the opiate, but had +nevertheless determined to keep her promise to him. She had dressed +herself and was just ready to go, but a sudden weakness had come over +her. She remembered staggering a few steps and nothing more. + +"But if you have not given your mother the opiate, she may awake at +any moment. Are you strong enough, my darling, to come with me? +Come!" + +"Yes, yes, I'm strong enough. Give me some more water, and kiss me, +dear." + +The lovers wrapped themselves in each other's arms. But hearing some +one moving in the adjoining room, the girl looked in horror and +supplication in Mike's eyes. Stooping, he disappeared beneath a small +table; and drew his legs beneath the cloth. The sounds in the next +room continued, and he recognized them as proceeding from some one +searching for clothes. Then Lily's door was opened and Mrs. Young +said-- + +"Lily, there is some one in your room; I'm sure Mr. Fletcher is +here." + +"Oh, mother, how can you say such a thing! indeed he is not." + +"He is; I am not mistaken. This is disgraceful; he must be under that +bed." + +"Mother, you can look." + +"I shall do nothing of the kind. I shall fetch your uncle." + +When he heard Mrs. Young retreating with fast steps, Mike emerged +from his hiding. + +"What shall I do?" + +"You can't leave without being seen. Uncle sleeps opposite." + +"I'll hide in your mother's room; and while they are looking for me +here, I will slip out." + +"How clever you are, darling! Go there. Do you hear? uncle is +answering her. To-morrow we shall find an opportunity to get away; +but now I would not be found out.... I told mother you weren't here. +Go!" + +The morrow brought no opportunity for flight. Lily could not leave +her room, and it was whispered that the doctors despaired of her +life. Then Mike opened his heart to the Major, and the old soldier +promised him his cordial support when Lily was well. Three days +passed, and then, unable to bear the strain any longer, Mike fled to +Monte Carlo. There he lost and won a fortune. Hence Italy enticed +him, and he went, knowing that he should never go there with Lily. + +But not in art nor in dissipation did he find escape from her +deciduous beauty, now divided from the grave only by a breath, +beautiful and divinely sorrowful in its transit. + +Some days passed, and then a letter from the Major brought him back +over-worn with anxiety, wild with grief. He found her better. She had +been carried down from her room, and was lying on a sofa by the open +window. There were a few flowers in her hands, and when she offered +them to Mike she said with a kind of Heine-like humour-- + +"Take them, they will live almost as long as I shall." + +"Lily, you will get well, and we shall see Italy together. I had to +leave you--I should have gone mad had I remained. The moment I heard +I could see you I returned. You will get well." + +"No, no; I'm here only for a few days--a few weeks at most. I shall +never go to Italy. I shall never be your sweetheart. I'm one of God's +virgins. I belong to my saint, my first and real sweetheart. You +remember when I came to see you in the Temple Gardens, I told you +about Him then, didn't I! Ah! happy, happy aspirations, better even +than you, my darling. And He is waiting for me; I see Him now. He +smiles, and opens His arms." + +"You'll get well. The sun of Italy shall be our heaven, thy lips +shall give me immortality, thy love shall give me God." + +"Fine words, my sweetheart, fine words, but death waits not for +love.... Well, it's a pity to die without having loved." + +"It is worse to live without having loved, dearest--dearest, you +will live." + +He never saw her again. Next day she was too ill to come down, and +henceforth she grew daily weaker. Every day brought death visibly +nearer, and one day the Major came to Mike in the garden and said-- + +"It is all over, my poor friend!" + +Then came days of white flowers and wreaths, and bouquets and baskets +of bloom, stephanotis, roses, lilies, and every white blossom that +blows; and so friends sought to cover and hide the darkness of the +grave. Mike remembered the disordered faces of the girls in church; +weeping, they threw themselves on each other's shoulders; and the +mournful chant was sung; and the procession toiled up the long hill +to the cemetery above the town, and Lily was laid there, to rest +there for ever. There she lies, facing Italy, which she never knew +but in dream. The wide country leading to Italy lies below her, the +peaks of the rocky coast, the blue sea, the gray-green olives +billowing like tides from hill to hill; the white loggias gleaming in +the sunlight. His thoughts followed the flight of the blue mountain +passes that lead so enticingly to Italy, and as he looked into the +distance, dim and faint as the dream that had gone, there rose in his +mind an even fairer land than Italy, the land of dream, where for +every one, even for Mike Fletcher, there grows some rose or lily +unattainable. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +In the dreary drawing-room, amid the tattered copies of the _Graphic_ +and _Illustrated London News_, he encountered the inevitable idle +woman. They engaged in conversation; and he repeated the phrases that +belong inevitably to such occasions. + +"How horrible all this is," he said to himself; "this is worse than +peeping and botanizing on a mother's grave." + +He desired supreme grief, and grief fled from his lure; and rhymes +and images thronged his brain; and the poem that oftenest rose in his +mind, seemingly complete in cadence and idea, was so cruel, that +Lily, looking out of heaven, seemed to beg him to refrain. But though +he erased the lines on the paper, he could not erase them on his +brain, and baffled, he pondered over the phenomena of the antagonism +of desired aspirations and intellectual instincts. He desired a poem +full of the divine grace of grief; a poem beautiful, tender and pure, +fresh and wild as a dove crossing in the dawn from wood to wood. He +desired the picturesqueness of a young man's grief for a dead girl, +an Adonais going forth into the glittering morning, and weeping for +his love that has passed out of the sun into the shadow. This is what +he wrote: + + + A UNE POETRENAIRE. + + We are alone! listen, a little while, + And hear the reason why your weary smile + And lute-toned speaking is so very sweet + To me, and how my love is more complete + Than any love of any lover. They + Have only been attracted by the gray + Delicious softness of your eyes, your slim + And delicate form, or some such whimpering whim, + The simple pretexts of all lovers;--I + For other reasons. Listen whilst I try + And say. I joy to see the sunset slope + Beyond the weak hours' hopeless horoscope, + Leaving the heavens a melancholy calm, + Of quiet colour chaunted like a psalm, + In mildly modulated phrases; thus + Your life shall fade like a voluptuous + Vision beyond the sight, and you shall die + Like some soft evening's sad serenity ... + I would possess your dying hours; indeed + My love is worthy of the gift, I plead + For them. + + Although I never loved as yet, + Methinks that I might love you; I would get + From out the knowledge that the time was brief, + That tenderness whose pity grows to grief, + My dream of love, and yea, it would have charms + Beyond all other passions, for the arms + Of death are stretched you-ward, and he claims + You as his bride. Maybe my soul misnames + Its passion; love perhaps it is not, yet + To see you fading like a violet, + Or some sweet thought away, would be a strange + And costly pleasure, far beyond the range + Of common man's emotion. Listen, I + Will choose a country spot where fields of rye + And wheat extend in waving yellow plains, + Broken with wooded hills and leafy lanes, + To pass our honeymoon; a cottage where + The porch and windows are festooned with fair + Green wreaths of eglantine, and look upon + A shady garden where we'll walk alone + In the autumn sunny evenings; each will see + Our walks grow shorter, till at length to thee + The garden's length is far, and thou wilt rest + From time to time, leaning upon my breast + Thy languid lily face. Then later still, + Unto the sofa by the window-sill + Thy wasted body I shall carry, so + That thou mays't drink the last left lingering glow + Of even, when the air is filled with scent + Of blossoms; and my spirits shall be rent + The while with many griefs. Like some blue day + That grows more lovely as it fades away, + Gaining that calm serenity and height + Of colour wanted, as the solemn night + Steals forward thou shalt sweetly fall asleep + For ever and for ever; I shall weep + A day and night large tears upon thy face, + Laying thee then beneath a rose-red place + Where I may muse and dedicate and dream + Volumes of poesy of thee; and deem + It happiness to know that thou art far + From any base desires as that fair star + Set in the evening magnitude of heaven. + Death takes but little, yea, thy death has given + Me that deep peace and immaculate possession + Which man may never find in earthly passion. + + +The composition of the poem induced a period of literary passion, +during which he composed much various matter, even part of his great +poem, which he would have completed had he not been struck by an idea +for a novel, and so imperiously, that he wrote the book straight from +end to end. It was sent to a London publisher, and it raised some +tumult of criticism, none of which reached the author. When it +appeared he was far away, living in Arab tents, seeking pleasure at +other sources. For suddenly, when the strain of the composition of +his book was relaxed, civilization had grown hateful to him; a +picture by Fromantin, and that painter's book, _Un ete dans le +Sahara_, quickened the desire of primitive life; he sped away, and +for nearly two years lived on the last verge of civilization, +sometimes passing beyond it with the Bedouins into the interior, on +slave-trading or rapacious expeditions. The frequentation of these +simple people calmed the fever of ennui, which had been consuming +him. Nature leads us to the remedy that the development of reason +inflicts on the animal--man. And for more than a year Mike thought he +had solved the problem of life; now he lived in peace--passion had +ebbed almost out of hearing, and in the plain satisfaction of his +instincts he found happiness. + +With the wild chieftains, their lances at rest, watching from behind +a sandhill, he sometimes thought that the joy he experienced was akin +to that which he had known in Sussex, when his days were spent in +hunting and shooting; now, as then, he found relief by surrendering +himself to the hygienics of the air and earth. But his second return +to animal nature had been more violent and radical; and it pleased +him to think that he could desire nothing but the Arabs with whom he +lived, and whose friendship he had won. But _qui a bu boira_, and +below consciousness dead appetites were awakening, and would soon be +astir. + +The tribe had wandered to an encampment in the vicinity of Morocco; +and one day a missionary and his wife came with a harmonium and +tracts. The scene was so evocative of the civilization from which +Mike had fled, that he at once was drawn by a power he could not +explain towards them. He told the woman that he had adopted Arab +life; explaining that the barbaric soul of some ancestor lived in +him, and that he was happy with these primitive people. He too was a +missionary, and had come to warn and to save them from Christianity +and all its corollaries--silk hats, piano playing, newspapers, and +patent medicines. The English woman argued with him plaintively; the +husband pressed a bundle of tracts upon him; and this very English +couple hoped he would come and see them when he returned to town. +Mike thanked them, insisting, however, that he would never leave his +beloved desert, or desert his friends. Next day, however, he forgot +to fall on his knees at noon, and outside the encampment stood +looking in the direction whither the missionaries had gone. A strange +sadness seemed to have fallen upon him; he cared no more for plans +for slave-trading in the interior, or plunder in the desert. The +scent of the white woman's skin and hair was in his nostrils; the +nostalgia of the pavement had found him, and he knew he must leave +the desert. One morning he was missed in the Sahara, and a fortnight +after he was seen in the Strand, rushing towards Lubini's. + +"My dear fellow," he said, catching hold of a friend's arm, "I've +been living with the Arabs for the last two years. Fancy, not to have +seen a 'tart' or drunk a bottle of champagne for two years! Come and +dine with me. We'll go on afterwards to the Troc'." + +Mike looked round as if to assure himself that he was back again +dining at Lubi's. It was the same little white-painted gallery, +filled with courtesans, music-hall singers, drunken lords, and +sarcastic journalists. He noticed, however, that he hardly knew a +single face, and was unacquainted with the amours of any of the +women. He inquired for his friends. Muchross was not expected to +live, Laura was underground, and her sister was in America. Joining +in the general hilarity, he learnt that as the singer declined the +prize-fighter was going up in popular estimation. A young and drunken +lord offered to introduce him "to a very warm member." + +He felt sure, however, that the Royal would stir in him the old +enthusiasms, and his heart beat when he saw in a box Kitty Carew, +looking exactly the same as the day he had left her; but she insisted +on taking credit for recognizing him--so changed was he. He felt +somewhat provincial, and no woman noticed him, and it was clear that +Kitty was no longer interested in him. The conversation languished, +he did not understand the allusions, and he was surprised and a +little alarmed, indeed, to find that he did not even desire their +attention. + +A few weeks afterwards he received an invitation to a ball. It was +from a woman of title, the address was good, and he resolved to go. +It was to one of the Queen Anne houses with which Chelsea abounds, +and as he drove towards it he noted the little windows aflame with +light and colour in the blue summer night. On the carved cramped +staircases women struck him as being more than usually interesting, +and the distinguished air of the company moved him with pleasurable +sensations. A thick creamy odour of white flowers gratified the +nostrils; the slender backs of the girls, the shoulder-blades +squeezed together by the stays, were full of delicate lines and +tints. Mike saw a tall blonde girl, slight as a reed, so blonde that +she was almost an albino, her figure in green gauze swaying. He saw a +girl so brown that he thought of palms and cocoa-nuts; she passed him +smiling, all her girlish soul awake in the enchantment of the dance. +He said-- + +"No, I don't want to be introduced; she'd only bore me; I know +exactly all she would say." + +Studying these, he thought vaguely of dancing a quadrille, and was +glad when the lady said she never danced. With a view to astonish +her, he said-- + +"Since I became a student of Schopenhauer I have given up waltzing. +Now I never indulge in anything but a square." + +For a few moments his joke amused him, and he regretted that John +Norton, who would understand its humour, was not there to laugh at +it. Having eaten supper he chose the deepest chair among the +clustered furniture of the drawing-room, and watched in spleenic +interest a woman of thirty flirting with a young man. + +The panelled skirt stretched stiffly over the knees, the legs were +crossed, one drawn slightly back. The young man sat awkwardly on the +edge of the sofa nursing his silk foot. She looked at him over her +fan, inclining her blonde head in assent from time to time. The young +man was delicate--a red blonde. The wall, laden with heavy shelves, +was covered with an embossed paper of a deep gold hue. A piece of +silk, worked with rich flowers, concealed the volumes in a light +bookcase. A lamp, set on a tall brass rod, stood behind the lady, +flooding her hair with yellow light, and its silk shade was nearly +the same tint as the lady's hair. The costly furniture, the lady and +her lover, the one in black and white, the other in creamy lace, the +panelled skirt extended over her knees, filled the room like a +picture--an enticing but somewhat vulgar picture of modern refinement +and taste. Mike watched them curiously. + +"Five years ago," he thought, "I was young like he is; my soul +thrilled as his is thrilling now." + +Then, seeing a woman whom he knew pass the door on her way to the +ball-room, he asked her to come and sit with him. He did so +remembering the tentative steps they had taken in flirtation three +years ago. So by way of transition, he said-- + +"The last time we met we spoke of the higher education of women, and +you said that nothing sharpened the wits like promiscuous flirtation. +Enchanting that was, and it made poor Mrs.--Mrs.--I really can't +remember--a lady with earnest eyes--look so embarrassed." + +"I don't believe I ever said such a thing; anyhow, if I did, I've +entirely changed my views." + +"What a pity! but--perhaps you have finished your education?" + +"Yes, that's it; and now I must go up-stairs. I am engaged for this +dance." + +"Clearly I'm out of it," thought Mike. "Not only do people see me +with new eyes, but I see them with eyes that I cannot realize as +mine." + +The drawing-room was empty; all had gone up-stairs to dance, so, +finding himself alone, he went to a mirror to note the changes. At +first he seemed the same Mike Fletcher; but by degrees he recognized, +or thought he recognized, certain remote and subtle differences. He +thought that the tenderness which used to reside in his eyes was +evanescent or gone. This tenderness had always been to him a subject +of surprise, and he had never been able to satisfactorily explain its +existence, knowing as he knew how all tenderness was in contradiction +to his true character; at least, as he understood himself. This +tenderness was now replaced by a lurking evil look, and he remembered +that he had noted such evil look in certain old libertines. Certain +lines about the face had grown harder, the hollow freckled cheeks +seemed to have sunk a little, and the pump-handle chin seemed to be +defining itself, even to caricature. There was still a certain air of +_bravoure_, of truculence, which attracted, and might still charm. He +turned from the mirror, went up-stairs, and danced three or four +times. He remained until the last, and followed by an increasing +despair he muttered, as he got into a hansom-- + +"If this is civilization I'd better go back to the Arabs." + +The solitude of his rooms chilled him in the roots of his mind; he +looked around like a hunted animal. He threw himself into an +arm-chair. Like a pure fire ennui burned in his heart. + +"Oh, for rest! I'm weary of life. Oh, to slip back into the +unconscious, whence we came, and pass for ever from the fitful +buzzing of the midges. To feel that sharp, cruel, implacable +externality of things melt, vanish, and dissolve! + +"The utter stupidity of life! There never was anything so stupid; I +mean the whole thing--our ideas of right and wrong, love and duty, +etc. Great Scott! what folly. The strange part of it all is man's +inability to understand the folly of living. When I said to that +woman to-night that I believed that the only evil is to bring +children into the world, she said, 'But then the world would come to +an end.' I said, 'Do you not think it would be a good thing if it +did?' Her look of astonishment proved how unsuspicious she is of the +truth. The ordinary run of mortals do not see into the heart of +things, nor do we, except in terribly lucid moments; then, seeing +life truly, seeing it in its monstrous deformity, we cry out like +children in the night. + +"Then why do we go to Death with terror-stricken faces and reluctant +feet? We should go to Death in perfect confidence, like a bride to +her husband, and with eager and smiling eyes. But he who seeks Death +goes with wild eyes--upbraiding Life for having deceived him; as if +Life ever did anything else! He goes to Death as a last refuge. None +go to Death in deep calm and resignation, as a child goes to the kind +and thoughtful nurse in whose arms he will find beautiful rest. + +"It was in this very room I spoke to Lady Helen for the last time. +She understood very well indeed the utter worthlessness of life. How +beautiful was her death! That white still face, with darkness +stealing from the closed lids, a film of light shadow, symbol of +deeper shadow. The unseen but easily imagined hand grasping the +pistol, the unseen but imagined red stain upon the soft texture of +the chemise! I might have loved her. She saw into the heart of +things, and like a reasonable being, which she was, resolved to rid +herself of the burden. We discussed the whole question in the next +room; and I remember I was surprised to find that she was in no wise +deceived by the casual fallacy of the fools who say that the good +times compensate for the bad. Ah! how little they understand! +Pleasure! what is it but the correlative of pain? Nothing short of +man's incomparable stupidity could enable him to distinguish between +success and failure. + +"But now I remember she did not die for any profound belief in the +worthlessness of life, but merely on account of a vulgar love affair. +That letter was quite conclusive. It was written from the Alexandra +Hotel. It was a letter breaking it off (strange that any one should +care to break off with Lady Helen!); she stopped to see him, in the +hope of bringing about a reconciliation. Quite a Bank Holiday sort of +incident! She did not deny life; but only that particular form in +which life had come to her. Under such circumstances suicide is +unjustifiable. + +"There! I'm breaking into what John Norton would call my +irrepressible levity. But there is little gladness in me. Ennui hunts +me like a hound, loosing me for a time, but finding the scent again +it follows--I struggle--escape--but the hour will come when I shall +escape no more. If Lily had not died, if I had married her, I might +have lived. In truth, I'm not alive, I'm really dead, for I live +without hope, without belief, without desire. Ridiculous as a wife +and children are when you look at them from the philosophical side, +they are necessary if man is to live; if man dispenses with the +family, he must embrace the cloister; John has done that; but now I +know that man may not live without wife, without child, without God!" + + * * * * * * + +Next day, after breakfast, he lay in his arm-chair, thinking of the +few hours that lay between him and the fall of night. He sought to +tempt his jaded appetite with many assorted dissipations, but he +turned from all in disgust, and gambling became his sole distraction. +Every evening about eleven he was seen in Piccadilly, going towards +Arlington Street, and every morning about four the street-sweepers +saw him returning home along the Strand. Then, afraid to go to bed, +he sometimes took pen and paper and attempted to write some lines of +his long-projected poem. But he found that all he had to say he had +said in the sketch which he found among his papers. The idea did not +seem to him to want any further amplification, and he sat wondering +if he could ever have written three or four thousand lines on the +subject. + +The casual eye and ear still recognized no difference in him. There +were days when he was as good-looking as ever, and much of the old +fascination remained: but to one who knew him well, as Harding did, +there was no doubt that his life had passed its meridian. The day was +no longer at poise, but was quietly sinking; and though the skies +were full of light, the buoyancy and blitheness that the hours bear +in their ascension were missing; lassitude and moodiness were aboard. + +More than ever did he seek women, urged by a nervous erethism which +he could not explain or control. Married women and young girls came +to him from drawing-rooms, actresses from theatres, shop-girls from +the streets, and though seemingly all were as unimportant and +accidental as the cigarettes he smoked, each was a drop in the ocean +of the immense ennui accumulating in his soul. The months passed, +disappearing in a sheer and measureless void, leaving no faintest +reflection or even memory, and his life flowed in unbroken weariness +and despair. There was no taste in him for anything; he had eaten of +the fruit of knowledge, and with the evil rind in his teeth, wandered +an exile beyond the garden. Dark and desolate beyond speech was his +world; dark and empty of all save the eyes of the hound Ennui; and by +day and night it watched him, fixing him with dull and unrelenting +eyes. Sometimes these acute strainings of his consciousness lasted +only between entering his chambers late at night and going to bed; +and fearful of the sleepless hours, every sensation exaggerated by +the effect of the insomnia, he sat in dreadful commune with the +spectre of his life, waiting for the apparition to leave him. + +"And to think," he cried, turning his face to the wall, "that it is +this _ego_ that gives existence to it all!" + +One of the most terrible of these assaults of consciousness came upon +him on the winter immediately on his return from London. He had gone +to London to see Miss Dudley, whom he had not seen since his return +from Africa--therefore for more than two years. Only to her had he +written from the desert; his last letters, however, had remained +unanswered, and for some time misgivings had been astir in his heart. +And it was with the view of ridding himself of these that he had been +to London. The familiar air of the house seemed to him altered, the +servant was a new one; she did not know the name, and after some +inquiries, she informed him that the lady had died some six months +past. All that was human in him had expressed itself in this +affection; among women Lily Young and Miss Dudley had alone touched +his heart; there were friends scattered through his life whom he had +worshipped; but his friendships had nearly all been, though intense, +ephemeral and circumstantial; nor had he thought constantly and +deeply of any but these two women. So long as either lived, there was +a haven of quiet happiness and natural peace in which his shattered +spirit might rock at rest; but now he was alone. + +Others he saw with homes and family ties; all seemed to have hopes +and love to look to but he--"I alone am alone! The whole world is in +love with me, and I'm utterly alone." Alone as a wreck upon a desert +ocean, terrible in its calm as in its tempest. Broken was the helm +and sailless was the mast, and he must drift till borne upon some +ship-wrecking reef! Had fate designed him to float over every rock? +must he wait till the years let through the waters of disease, and he +foundered obscurely in the immense loneliness he had so elaborately +prepared? + +Wisdom! dost thou turn in the end, and devour thyself? dost thou +vomit folly? or is folly born of thee? + +Overhead was cloud of storm, the ocean heaved, quick lightnings +flashed; but no waves gathered, and in heavy sulk a sense of doom lay +upon him. Wealth and health and talent were his; he had all, and in +all he found he had nothing;--yes, one thing was his for +evermore,--Ennui. + +Thoughts and visions rose into consciousness like monsters coming +through a gulf of dim sea-water; all delusion had fallen, and he saw +the truth in all its fearsome deformity. On awakening, the implacable +externality of things pressed upon his sight until he felt he knew +what the mad feel, and then it seemed impossible to begin another +day. With long rides, with physical fatigue, he strove to keep at bay +the despair-fiend which now had not left him hardly for weeks. For +long weeks the disease continued, almost without an intermission; he +felt sure that death was the only solution, and he considered the +means for encompassing the end with a calm that startled him. + +Nor was it until the spring months that he found any subjects that +might take him out of his melancholy, and darken the too acute +consciousness of the truth of things which was forcing him on to +madness or suicide. One day it was suggested that he should stand for +Parliament. He eagerly seized the idea, and his brain thronged +immediately with visions of political successes, of the parliamentary +triumphs he would achieve. Bah! he was an actor at heart, and +required the contagion of the multitude, and again he looked out upon +life with visionary eyes. Harsh hours fell behind him, gay hours +awaited him, held hands to him. + +Men wander far from the parent plot of earth; but a strange fatality +leads them back, they know not how. None had desired to separate from +all associations of early life more than Mike, and he was at once +glad and sorry to find that the door through which he was to enter +Parliament was Cashel. He would have liked better to represent an +English town or county, but he could taste in Cashel a triumph which +he could nowhere else in the world. To return triumphant to his +native village is the secret of every wanderer's desire, for there he +can claim not only their applause but their gratitude. + +The politics he would have to adopt made him wince, for he knew the +platitudes they entailed; and in preference he thought of the +paradoxes with which he would stupefy the House, the daring and +originality he would show in introducing subjects that, till then, no +one had dared to touch upon. With the politics of his party he had +little intention of concerning himself, for his projects were to make +for himself a reputation as an orator, and having confirmed it to +seek another constituency at the close of the present Parliament. +Such intention lay dormant in the background of his mind, but he had +not seen many Irish Nationalists before he was effervescing with +rhetoric suitable for the need of the election, and he was sometimes +puzzled to determine whether he was false or true. + +Driving through Dublin from the steamer, he met Frank Escott. They +shouted simultaneously to their carmen to stop. + +"Home to London. I've just come from Cashel. I went to try to effect +some sort of reconciliation with Mount Rorke; but--and you, where are +you going?" + +"I'm going to Cashel. I'm going to contest the town in the Parnellite +interest." + +Each pair of eyes was riveted on the other. For both men thought of +the evening when Mike had received the letter notifying that Lady +Seeley had left him five thousand a year, and Frank had read in +the evening paper that Lady Mount Rorke had given birth to a son. +Frank was, as usual, voluble and communicative. He dilated on the +painfulness of the salutations of the people he had met on the +way going from the station to Mount Rorke; and, instead of walking +straight in, as in old times, he had to ask the servant to take +his name. + +"Burton, the old servant who had known me since I was a boy, seemed +terribly cut up, and he was evidently very reluctant to speak the +message. 'I'm very sorry, Mr. Frank,' he said, 'but his lordship says +he is too unwell to see any one to-day, sir; he is very sorry, but if +you would write' ... If I would write! think of it, I who was once +his heir, and used the place as if it were mine! Poor old Burton +was quite overcome. He tried to ask me to come into the dining-room +and have some lunch. If I go there again I shall be asked into the +servants' hall. And at that moment the nurse came, wheeling the baby +in the perambulator through the hall, going out for an airing. I +tried not to look, but couldn't restrain my eyes, and the nurse +stopped and said, 'Now then, dear, give your hand to the gentleman, +and tell him your name.' The little thing looked up, its blue eyes +staring out of its sallow face, and it held out the little putty-like +hand. Poor old Burton turned aside, he couldn't stand it any longer, +and walked into the dining-room." + +"And how did you get away?" asked Mike, who saw his friend's +misfortune in the light of an exquisite chapter in a novel. "How sad +the old place must have seemed to you!" + +"You are thinking how you could put it in a book--how brutal you +are!" + +"I assure you you are wrong. I can't help trying to realize your +sensations, but that doesn't prevent me from being very sorry for +you, and I'm sure I shall be very pleased to help you. Do you want +any money? Don't be shy about saying yes. I haven't forgotten how you +helped me." + +"I really don't like to ask you, you've been very good as it is. +However, if you could spare me a tenner?" + +"Of course I can. Let's send these jarvies away, and come into my +hotel, and I'll write you a cheque." + +The sum Frank asked for revealed to Mike exactly the depth to which +he had sunk since they had last met. Small as it was, however, it +seemed to have had considerable effect in reviving Frank's spirits, +and he proceeded quite cheerfully into the tale of his misfortune. +Now it seemed to strike him too in quite a literary light, and he +made philosophic comments on its various aspects, as he might on the +hero of a book which he was engaged on or contemplated writing. + +"No," he said, "you were quite wrong in supposing that I waited to +look back on the old places. I got out of the park through a wood so +as to avoid the gate-keeper. In moments of great despair we don't +lapse into pensive contemplation." ... He stopped to pull at the +cigar Mike had given him, and when he had got it well alight, he +said, "It was really most dramatic, it would make a splendid scene in +a play; you might make him murder the baby." + +Half an hour after Mike bade his friend good-bye, glad to be rid of +him. + +"He's going back to that beastly wife who lives in some dirty +lodging. How lucky I was, after all, not to marry." + +Then, remembering the newspaper, and the use it might be to him when +in Parliament, he rushed after Frank. When the _Pilgrim_ was +mentioned Frank's face changed expression, and he seemed stirred with +deeper grief than when he related the story of his disinheritance. He +had no further connection with the paper. Thigh had worked him out of +it. + +"I never really despaired," he said, "until I lost my paper. Thigh +has asked me to send him paragraphs, but of course I'm not going to +do that." + +"Why not?" + +"Well, hang it, after being the editor of a paper, you aren't going +to send in paragraphs on approval. It isn't good enough. When I go +back to London I shall try to get a sub-editorship." + +Mike pressed another tenner upon him, and returning to the +smoking-room, and throwing himself into an arm-chair, he lapsed into +dreams of the bands and the banners that awaited him. When animal +spirits were ebullient in him, he regarded his election in the light +of a vulgar practical joke; when the philosophic mood was upon him he +turned from all thought of it as from the smell of a dirty kitchen +coming through a grating. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +During the first session Mike was hampered and inconvenienced by the +forms of the House; in the second, he began to weary of its routine. +His wit and paradox attracted some attention; he made one almost +successful speech, many that stirred and stimulated the minds of +celebrated listeners; but for all that he failed. His failure to +redeem the expectations of his friends, produced in him much stress +and pain of mind, the more acute because he was fully alive to the +cause. He ascribed it rightly to certain inherent flaws in his +character. "The world believes in those who believe in it. Such +belief may prove a lack of intelligence on the part of the believer, +but it secures him success, and success is after all the only thing +that compensates for the evil of life." + +Always impressed by new ideas, rarely holding to any impression long, +finding all hollow and common very soon, he had been taken with the +importance of the national assembly, but it had hardly passed into +its third session when all illusion had vanished, and Mike ridiculed +parliamentary ambitions in the various chambers of the barristers he +frequented. + +It was May-time, and never did the Temple wear a more gracious +aspect. The river was full of hay-boats, the gardens were green with +summer hours. Through the dim sky, above the conical roof of the dear +church, the pigeons fled in rapid quest, and in Garden Court, beneath +the plane-trees, old folk dozed, listening to the rippling tune of +the fountain and the shrilling of the sparrows. In King's Bench Walk +the waving branches were full of their little brown bodies. Sparrows +everywhere, flying from the trees to the eaves, hopping on the golden +gravel, beautifully carpeted with the rich shadows of the +trees--unabashed little birds, scarcely deigning to move out of the +path of the young men as they passed to and fro from their offices to +the library. "That sweet, grave place where we weave our ropes of +sand," so Mike used to speak of it. + +The primness of the books, the little galleries guarded by brass +railings, here and there a reading-desk, the sweet silence of the +place, the young men reading at the polished oak tables, the colour +of the oak and the folios, the rich Turkey carpets, lent to the +library that happy air of separation from the brutalities of life +which is almost sanctity. These, the familiar aspects of the Temple, +moved him with all their old enchantments; he lingered in the warm +summer mornings when all the Temple was astir, gossiping with the +students, or leaning upon the balustrades in pensive contemplation of +the fleet river. + +But these moods of passive happiness were interrupted more frequently +than they had been in earlier years by the old whispering voice, now +grown strangely distinct, which asked, but no longer through laughing +lips, if it were possible to discern any purpose in life, and if all +thoughts and things were not as vain as a little measure of sand. The +dark fruit that hangs so alluringly over the wall of the garden of +life now met his eyes frequently, tempting him, and perforce he must +stay to touch and consider it. Then, resolved to baffle at all costs +the disease which he now knew pursued him, he plunged in the crowd of +drunkenness and debauchery which swelled the Strand at night. He was +found where prize-fighters brawled, and card-sharpers cajoled; where +hall singers fed on truffled dishes, and courtesans laughed and +called for champagne. He was seen in Lubini's sprawling over luncheon +tables till late in the afternoon, and at nightfall lingering about +the corners of the streets, talking to the women that passed. In such +low form of vice he sought escape. He turned to gambling, risking +large sums, sometimes imperilling his fortune for the sake of the +assuagement such danger brought of the besetting sin. But luck poured +thousands into his hands; and he applied himself to the ruin of one +seeking to bring about his death. + +"Before I kill myself," he said, "I will kill others; I'm weary of +playing at Faust, now I'll play at Mephistopheles." + +Henceforth all men who had money, or friends who had money, were +invited to Temple Gardens. You met there members of both Houses of +Parliament--the successors of Muchross and Snowdown; and men +exquisitely dressed, with quick, penetrating eyes, assembled there, +actors and owners of race-horses galore, and bright-complexioned +young men of many affections. Rising now from the piano one is heard +to say reproachfully, "You never admire anything I wear," to a grave +friend who had passed some criticism on the flower in the young man's +button-hole. + +It was still early in the evening, and the usual company had not yet +arrived. Harding stood on the white fur hearthrug, his legs slightly +apart, smoking. Mike lay in an easy-chair. His eyes were upon +Harding, whom he had not seen for some years, and the sight of him +recalled the years when they wrote the _Pilgrim_ together. + +He thought how splendid were then his enthusiasms and how genuine his +delight in life. It was in this very room that he kissed Lily for the +first time. That happy day. Well did he remember how the sun shone +upon the great river, how the hay-boats sailed, how the city rose +like a vision out of the mist. But Lily lies asleep, far away in a +southern land; she lies sleeping, facing Italy--that Italy which they +should have seen and dreamed together. At that moment, he brushed +from his book a little green insect that had come out of the night, +and it disappeared in faint dust. + +It was in this room he had seen Lady Helen for the last time; and he +remembered how, when he returned to her, after having taken Lily back +to the dancing-room, he had found her reading a letter, and almost +the very words of the conversation it had given rise to came back to +him, and her almost aggressive despair. No one could say why she had +shot herself. Who was the man that had deserted her? What was he +like? Was it Harding? It was certainly for a lover who had tired of +her; and Mike wondered how it were possible to weary of one so +beautiful and so interesting, and he believed that if she had loved +him they both would have found content. + +"Do you remember, Harding, that it was in this room we saw Lady Helen +alive for the last time? What a tragedy that was! Do you remember the +room in the Alexandra Hotel, the firelight, with the summer morning +coming through the Venetian blinds? Somehow there was a sense of +sculpture, even without the beautiful body. Seven years have passed. +She has enjoyed seven years of peace and rest; we have endured seven +years of fret and worry. Life of course was never worth living, but +the common stupidity of the nineteenth century renders existence for +those who may see into the heart of things almost unbearable. I +confess that every day man's stupidity seems to me more and more +miraculous. Indeed it may be said to be divine, so inherent and so +unalterable is it; and to understand it we need not stray from the +question in hand--suicide. A man is houseless, he is old, he is +friendless, he is starving, he is assailed in every joint by cruel +disease; to save himself from years of suffering he lights a pan of +charcoal; and, after carefully considering all the circumstances, the +jury returns a verdict of suicide while in a state of temporary +insanity. Out of years of insanity had sprung a supreme moment of +sanity, and no one understands it. The common stupidity, I should say +the common insanity, of the world on the subject of suicide is quite +comic. A man may destroy his own property, which would certainly be +of use to some one, but he may not destroy his own life, which +possibly is of use to no one; and if two men conspire to commit +suicide and one fails, the other is tried for murder and hanged. Can +the mind conceive more perfect nonsense?" + +"I cannot say I agree with you," said Harding; "man's aversion to +suicide seems to me perfectly comprehensible." + +"Does it really! Well, I should like to hear you develop that +paradox." + +"Your contention is that it is inconceivable that in an already +over-crowded society men should not look rather with admiration than +with contempt on those who, convinced that they block the way, +surrender their places to those better able to fill them; and it is +to you equally inconceivable that a man should be allowed to destroy +his property and not his person. Your difficulty seems to me to arise +from your not taking into consideration the instinctive nature of +man. The average man may be said to be purely instinctive. In popular +opinion--that is to say, in his own opinion--he is supposed to be a +reasonable being; but a short acquaintance shows him to be illumined +with no faintest ray of reason. His sense of right and wrong is +purely instinctive; talk to him about it, and you will see that you +might as well ask a sheep-dog why he herds the sheep." + +"Quite so; but I do not see how that explains his aversion to +suicide." + +"I think it does. There are two forces in human nature--instinct and +reason. The first is the very principle of life, and exists in all we +see--give it a philosophic name, and call it the 'will to live.' All +acts, therefore, proceed from instinct or from reason. Suicide is +clearly not an instinctive act, it is therefore a reasonable act; and +being of all acts the least instinctive, it is of necessity the most +reasonable; reason and instinct are antagonistic; and the extreme +point of their antagonism must clearly be suicide. One is the +assertion of life, the other is the denial of life. The world is +mainly instinctive, and therefore very tolerant to all assertions of +the will to live; it is in other words full of toleration for itself; +no one is reproved for bringing a dozen children into the world, +though he cannot support them, because to reprove him would involve a +partial condemnation of the will to live; and the world will not +condemn itself. + +"If suicide merely cut the individual thread of life our brothers +would rejoice. Nature is concerned in the preservation of the +species, not in the preservation of the individual; but suicide is +more than the disappearance of an individual life, it is a protest +against all life, therefore man, in the interest of the life of the +race, condemns the suicide. The struggle for life is lessened by +every death, but the injury inflicted on the desire of life is +greater; in other words, suicide is such a stimulant to the exercise +of reason (which has been proved antagonistic to life), that man, in +defence of instinct, is forced to condemn suicide. + +"And it is curious to note that of all the manners of death which may +bring them fortune, men like suicide the least; a man would prefer to +inherit a property through his father falling a prey to a disease +that tortured him for months rather than he should blow his brains +out. If he were to sound his conscience, his conscience would tell +him that his preference resulted from consideration for his father's +soul. For as man acquired reason, which, as I have shown, endangers +the sovereignty of the will to live, he developed notions of eternal +life, such notions being necessary to check and act as a drag upon +the new force that had been introduced into his life. He says suicide +clashes with the principle of eternal life. So it does, so it does, +he is quite right, but how delightful and miraculously obtuse. We +must not take man for a reasoning animal; ants and bees are hardly +more instinctive and less reasonable than the majority of men. + +"But far more than with any ordinary man is it amusing to discuss +suicide with a religionist. The religionist does not know how to +defend himself. If he is a Roman Catholic he says the Church forbids +suicide, and that ends the matter; but other churches have no answer +to make, for they find in the Old and New Testament not a shred of +text to cover themselves with. From the first page of the Bible to +the last there is not a word to say that a man does not hold his life +in his hands, and may not end it when he pleases." + +"Why don't you write an article on suicide? It would frighten people +out of their wits!" said Mike. + +"I hope he'll do nothing of the kind," said a man who had been +listening with bated breath. "We should have every one committing +suicide all around us--the world would come to an end." + +"And would that matter much?" said Mike, with a scornful laugh. "You +need not be afraid. No bit of mere scribbling will terminate life; +the principle of life is too deeply rooted ever to be uprooted; +reason will ever remain powerless to harm it. Very seldom, if ever, +has a man committed suicide for purely intellectual reasons. It +nearly always takes the form of a sudden paroxysm of mind. The will +to live is an almost unassailable fortress, and it will remain +impregnable everlastingly." + +The entrance of some men, talking loudly of betting and women, +stopped the conversation. The servants brought forth the card-tables. +Mike played several games of ecarte, cheating openly, braving +detection. He did not care what happened, and almost desired the +violent scene that would ensue on his being accused of packing the +cards. But nothing happened, and about one o'clock, having bade the +last guest good-night, he returned to the dining-room. The room in +its disorder of fruit and champagne looked like a human being--Mike +thought it looked like himself. He drank a tumbler of champagne and +returned to the drawing-room, his pockets full of the money he had +swindled from a young man. He threw himself on a sofa by the open +window and listened to the solitude, terribly punctuated by the +clanging of the clocks. All the roofs were defined on the blue night, +and he could hear the sound of water falling. The trees rose in vague +masses indistinguishable, and beyond was the immense brickwork which +hugs the shores. In the river there were strange reflections, and +above the river there were blood-red lamps. + +"If I were to fling myself from this window! ... I shouldn't feel +anything; but I should be a shocking sight on the pavement.... Great +Scott! this silence is awful, and those whispering trees, and those +damned clocks--another half-hour of life gone. I shall go mad if +something doesn't happen." + +There came a knock. Who could it be? It did not matter, anything was +better than silence. He threw open the door, and a pretty girl, +almost a child, bounded into the room, making it ring with her +laughter. + +"Oh, Mike! darling Mike, I have left home; I couldn't live without +you; ... aren't you glad to see me?" + +"Of course I'm glad to see you." + +"Then why don't you kiss me?" she said, jumping on his knees and +throwing her arms about his neck. + +"What a wicked little girl you are!" + +"Wicked! It is you who make me wicked, my own darling Mike. I ran +away from home for you, all for you; I should have done it for nobody +else.... I ran away the day--the day before yesterday. My aunt was +annoying me for going out in the lane with some young fellows. I said +nothing for a long time. At last I jumps up, and I says that I would +stand it no longer; I told her straight; I says you'll never see me +again, never no more; I'll go away to London to some one who is +awfully nice. And of course I meant you, my own darling Mike." And +the room rang with girlish laughter. + +"But where are you staying?" said Mike, seriously alarmed. + +"Where am I staying? I'm staying with a young lady friend of mine who +lives in Drury Lane, so I'm not far from you. You can come and see +me," she said, and her face lit with laughter. "We are rather hard +up. If you could lend me a sovereign I should be so much obliged." + +"Yes, I'll lend you a sovereign, ten if you like; but I hope you'll +go back to your aunt. I know the world better than you, my dear +little Flossy, and I tell you that Drury Lane is no place for you." + +"I couldn't go back to aunt; she wouldn't take me back; besides, I +want to remain in London for the present." + +Before she left Mike filled the astonished child's hands with money, +and as she paused beneath his window he threw some flowers towards +her, and listened to her laughter ringing through the pale morning. +Now the night was a fading thing, and the town and Thames lay in the +faint blue glamour of the dawn. Another day had begun, and the rattle +of a morning cart was heard. Mike shut the window, hesitating between +throwing himself out of it, and going to bed. + +"As long as I can remember, I have had these fits of depression, but +now they never leave me; I seem more than ever incapable of shaking +them off." + +Then he thought of the wickedness he had done, not of the wickedness +of his life--that seemed to him unlimited,--but of the wickedness +accomplished within the last few hours, and he wondered if he had +done worse in cheating the young man at cards or giving the money he +had won to Flossy. "Having tasted of money, she will do anything to +obtain more. I suppose she is hopelessly lost, and will go from bad +to worse. But really I don't see that I am wholly responsible. I +advised her to go home, I could do no more. But I will get her aunt's +address and write to her. Or I will inform some of the philanthropic +people." + +A few days after, he came in contact with some. Their fervour +awakened some faint interest in him, and now, as weary of playing at +Mephistopheles as he was of playing at Faust, he followed the +occupation of his new friends. But his attempts at reformation were +vain, they wore out the soul, and left it only more hopeless than +before; and he remembered John Norton's words, that faith is a gift +from God which we must cherish, or He will take it from us utterly; +and sighing, Mike recognized the great truth underlying a primitive +mode of expression. He had drifted too far into the salt sea of +unfaith and cynicism, ever to gain again the fair if illusive shores +of aspiration--maybe illusive, but no more illusive than the cruel +sea that swung him like a wreck in its current, feeding upon him as +the sea feeds. Nor could he make surrender of his passion of life, +saying-- + +"I see into the heart of things, I know the truth, and in the calm +possession of knowledge am able to divest myself of my wretched +individuality, and so free myself of all evils, seeking in +absorption, rather than by violent ends, to rid myself of +consciousness." + +But this, the religion of the truly wise, born in the sublime East, +could find no roothold in Mike Fletcher--that type and epitome of +Western grossness and lust of life. Religions being a synthesis of +moral aspirations, developed through centuries, are mischievous and +untrue except in the circumstances and climates in which they have +grown up, and native races are decimated equally by the importation +of a religion or a disease. True it is that Christianity was a +product of the East, but it was an accidental and inferior offshoot +from the original religion of the race, not adapted to their needs, +and fitted only for exportation. And now, tainted and poisoned by a +thousand years of habitation in the West, Christianity returns to the +East, virulent and baneful as small-pox, a distinctly demoralizing +influence, having power only to change excellent Buddhists into +prostitutes and thieves. And in such a way, according to the same +laws, Mike had observed, since he had adopted pessimism, certain +unmistakable signs in himself of moral degeneracy. + +He had now exhausted all Nature's remedies, save one--Drink, and he +could not drink. Drink has often rescued men, in straits of mental +prostration, from the charcoal-pan, the pistol, and the river. But +Mike could not drink, and Nature sought in vain to re-adjust again, +and balance anew, forces which seemed now irretrievably disarranged. +All the old agencies were exhausted, and the new force, which chance, +co-operating with natural disposition, had introduced, was dominant +in him. Against it women were now powerless, and he turned aside from +offered love. + +It is probable that the indirect influences to which we have been +subjected before birth outweigh the few direct influences received by +contagion with present life. But the direct influences, slight as +they may be, are worth considering, they being the only ones of which +we have any exact knowledge, even if in so doing we exaggerate them; +and in striving to arrive at a just estimation of the forces that had +brought about his present mind, Mike was in the habit of giving +prominence to the thought of the demoralizing influence of the +introduction of Eastern pessimism into a distinctly Western nature. +He remembered very well indeed the shock he had received when he had +heard John say for the first time that it was better that human life +should cease. + +"For man's history, what is it but the history of crime? Man's life, +what is it but a disgraceful episode in the life of one of the +meanest of the planets? Let us be thankful that time shall obliterate +the abominable, and that once again the world shall roll pure through +the silence of the universe." + +So John had once spoken, creating consternation in Mike's soul, +casting poison upon it. But John had buried himself in Catholicism +for refuge from this awful creed, leaving Mike to perish in it. Then +Mike wondered if he should have lived and died a simple, honourable, +God-fearing man, if he had not been taken out of the life he was born +in, if he had married in Ireland, for instance, and driven cattle to +market, as did his ancestors. + +One day hearing the organ singing a sweet anthem, he stayed to +listen. It being midsummer, the doors of the church were open, the +window was in his view, and the congregation came streaming out into +the sunshine of the courts, some straying hither and thither, taking +note of the various monuments. In such occupation he spoke to one +whom he recognized at once as a respectable shop-girl. He took her +out to dinner, dazzled and delighted her with a present of jewelry, +enchanted her with assurances of his love. But when her manner +insinuated an inclination to yield, he lost interest, and wrote +saying he was forced to leave town. Soon after, he wrote to a certain +actress proposing to write a play for her. The proposal was not made +with a view to deceiving her, but rather in the intention of securing +their liaison against caprice, by involving in it various mutual +advantages. For three weeks they saw each other frequently; he +wondered if he loved her, he dreamed of investing his talents in her +interest, and so rebuilding the falling edifice of his life. + +"I could crush an affection out of my heart as easily as I could kill +a fly," she said. + +"Ah!" he said, "my heart is as empty as a desert, and no affection +shall enter there again." + +An appointment was made to go out to supper, but he wrote saying he +was leaving town to be married. Nor was his letter a lie. After long +hesitations he had decided on this step, and it seemed to him clear +that no one would suit him so well as Mrs. Byril. By marrying an old +mistress, he would save himself from all the boredom of a honeymoon. +And sitting in the drawing-room, in the various pauses between +numerous licentious stories, they discussed their matrimonial +project. + +Dear Emily, who said she suffered from loneliness and fear of the +future as acutely as he, was anxious to force the matter forward. But +her eagerness begot reluctance in Mike, and at the end of a week, he +felt that he would sooner take his razor and slice his head off, than +live under the same roof with her. + +In Regent Street one evening he met Frank Escott. After a few +preliminary observations Mike asked him if he had heard lately from +Lord Mount Rorke. Frank said that he had not seen him. All was over +between them, but his uncle had, however, arranged to allow him two +hundred a year. He was living at Mortlake, "a nice little house; our +neighbour on the left is a city clerk at a salary of seventy pounds a +year, on the right is a chemist's shop; a very nice woman is the +chemist's wife; my wife and the chemist's wife are fast friends. We +go over and have tea with them, and they come and have tea with us. +The chemist and I smoke our pipes over the garden wall. All this +appears very dreadful to you, but I assure you I have more real +pleasure, and take more interest in my life, than ever I did before. +My only trouble is the insurance policy--I must keep that paid up, +for the two hundred a year's only an annuity. It makes a dreadful +hole in our income. You might come down and see us." + +"And be introduced to the chemist's wife!" + +"There's no use in trying to come it over me; I know who you are. I +have seen you many times about the roads in a tattered jacket. You +mustn't think that because all the good luck went your way, and all +the bad luck my way, that I'm any less a gentleman, or you any less a +----" + +"My dear Frank, I'm really very sorry for what I said; I forgot. I +assure you I didn't mean to sneer. I give you my word of honour." + +They walked around Piccadilly Circus, edging their way through the +women, that the sultry night had brought out in white dresses. It was +a midnight of white dresses and fine dust; the street was as clean as +a ball-room; like a pure dream the moon soared through the azure +infinities, whitening the roadway; the cabmen loitered, following +those who showed disposition to pair; groups gathered round the +lamp-posts, and were dispersed by stalwart policemen. "Move on, move +on, if you please, gentlemen!" + +Frank told Mike about the children. He had now a boy five years old, +"such a handsome fellow, and he can read as well as you or I can. +He's down at the sea-side now with his mother. He wrote me such a +clever letter, telling me he had just finished _Robinson Crusoe_, and +was going to make a start on _Gulliver's Travels_. I'm crazy about my +boy. Talk of being tired of living, my trouble is that I shall have +to leave him one day." + +Mike thought Frank's love of his son charming, and he regretted he +could find in his own heart no such simple sentiments! Every now and +then he turned to look after a girl, and pulling his moustache, +muttered-- + +"Not bad!" + +"Well, don't let's say anything more about it. When will you come and +see us?" + +"What day will suit you--some day next week?" + +"Yes, I'm always in in the evening; will you come to dinner?" + +Mike replied evasively, anxious not to commit himself to a promise +for any day. Then seeing that Frank thought he did not care to dine +with him, he said-- + +"Very well, let us say Wednesday." + +He bade his friend good-night, and stood on the edge of the pavement +watching him make his way across the street to catch the last +omnibus. Mike's mind filled with memories of Frank. They came from +afar, surging over the shores of youth, thundering along the cliffs +of manhood. Out of the remote regions of boyhood they came, white +crests uplifted, merging and mingling in the waters of life. It +seemed to Mike that, like sea-weed, he and Frank had been washed +together, and they then had been washed apart. That was life, and +that was the result of life, that and nothing more. And of every +adventure Frank was the most distinctly realizable; all else, even +Lily, was a little shadow that had come and gone. John had lost +himself in religion, Frank had lost himself in his wife and child. To +lose yourself, that is the end to strive for; absorption in religion +or in the family. They had attained it, he had failed. All the love +and all the wealth fortune had poured upon him had not enabled him to +stir from or change that entity which he knew as Mike Fletcher. Ten +years ago he had not a shilling to his credit, to-day he had several +thousands, but the irreparable had not altered--he was still Mike +Fletcher. He had wandered over the world; he had lain in the arms of +a hundred women, and nothing remained of it all but Mike Fletcher. +There was apparently no escape; he was lashed to himself like the +convict to the oar. For him there was nothing but this oar, and all +the jewelry that had been expended upon it had not made it anything +but an oar. There was a curse upon it all. + +He saw Frank's home--the little parlour with its bits of furniture, +scraggy and vulgar, but sweet with the presence of the wife and her +homely occupations; then the children--the chicks--cooing and +chattering, creating such hope and fond anxiety! Why then did he not +have wife and children? Of all worldly possessions they are the +easiest to obtain. Because he had created a soul that irreparably +separated him from these, the real and durable prizes of life; they +lay beneath his hands, but his soul said no; he desired, and was +powerless to take what he desired. + +For a moment he stood, in puzzled curiosity, listening to the fate +that his thoughts were prophesying; then, as if in answer antiphonal, +terrible as the announcing of the chorus, came a quick thought, quick +and sharp as a sword, fatal as a sword set against the heart. He +strove to turn its point aside, he attempted to pass it by, but on +every side he met its point, though he reasoned in jocular and +serious mood. Then his courage falling through him like a stone +dropped into a well, he crossed the street, seeking the place Flossy +had told him of, and soon after saw her walking a little in front of +him with another girl. She beckoned him, leading the way through +numerous by-streets. Something in the sound of certain footsteps told +him he was being followed; his reason warned him away, yet he could +not but follow. And in the shop below and on the stairs of the low +eating-house where they had led him, loud voices were heard and +tramping of feet. Instantly he guessed the truth, and drew the +furniture across the doorway. The window was over twenty feet from +the ground, but he might reach the water-butt. He jumped from the +window-sill, falling into the water, out of which he succeeded in +drawing himself; hence he crawled along the wall, dropped into the +lane, hearing his pursuers shouting to him from the window. There +were only a few children in the lane; he sped quickly past, gained a +main street, hailed a cab, and was driven safely to the Temple. + +He flung off his shoes, which were full of water; his trousers were +soaking, and having rid himself of them, he wrapped himself in a +dressing-gown, and went into the sitting-room in his slippers. It was +the same as when it was Frank's room. There was the grand piano and +the slender brass lamps; he had lit none, but stood uncertain, his +bed-room candle in his hand. And listening, he could hear London +along the Embankment--all occasional cry, the rattle of a cab, the +hollow whistle of a train about to cross the bridge at Blackfriars, +the shrill whistle of a train far away in the night. He had escaped +from his pursuers, but not from himself. + +"How horribly lonely it is here," he muttered. Then he thought of how +narrowly he had escaped disgraceful exposure of his infamy. "If those +fellows had got hold of my name it would have been in the papers the +day after to-morrow. What a fool I am! why do I risk so much? and for +what?" He turned from the memory as from sight of some disgustful +deformity or disease. Going to the mirror he studied his face for +some reflection of the soul; but unable to master his feelings, in +which there was at once loathing and despair, he threw open the +window and walked out of the suffocating room into the sultry +balcony. + +It was hardly night; the transparent obscurity of the summer midnight +was dissolving; the slight film of darkness which had wrapped the +world was evanescent. "Is it day or night?" he asked. "Oh, it is day! +another day has begun; I escaped from my mortal enemies, but not from +the immortal day. Like a gray beast it comes on soft velvet paws to +devour. Stay! oh, bland and beautiful night, thou that dost so +charitably hide our misfortunes, stay! + +"I shudder when I think of the new evils and abominations that this +day will bring. The world is still at rest, lying in the partial +purity of sleep. But as a cruel gray beast the day comes on soundless +velvet paws. Light and desire are one; light and desire are the claws +that the gray beast unsheathes; a few hours' oblivion and the world's +torment begins again!" Then looking down the great height, he thought +how he might spring from consciousness into oblivion--the town and +the river were now distinct in ghastly pallor--"I should feel +nothing. But what a mess I should make; what a horrible little mess!" + +After breakfast he sat looking into space, wondering what he might +do. He hoped for a visitor, and yet he could not think of one that he +desired to see. A woman! the very thought was distasteful. He rose +and went to the window. London implacable lay before him, a morose +mass of brick, fitting sign and symbol of life. And the few hours +that lay between breakfast and dinner were narrow and brick-coloured; +and longing for the vast green hours of the country, he went to +Belthorpe Park. But in a few weeks the downs and lanes fevered and +exasperated him, and perforce he must seek some new distraction. +Henceforth he hurried from house to house, tiring of each last abode +more rapidly than the one that had preceded it. He read no books, and +he only bought newspapers to read the accounts of suicides; and his +friends had begun to notice the strange interest with which he spoke +of those who had done away with themselves, and the persistency with +which he sought to deduce their motives from the evidence; and he +seemed to be animated by a wish to depreciate all worldly reasons, +and to rely upon weariness of life as sufficient motive for their +action. + +The account of two young people engaged to be married, who had taken +tickets for some short journey and shot themselves in the railway +carriage. "Here," he said, "was a case of absolute sanity, a quality +almost undiscoverable in human nature. Two young people resolve to +rid themselves of the burden; but they are more than utilitarians, +they are poets, and of a high order; for, not only do they make most +public and emphatic denial of life, but they add to it a measure of +Aristophanesque satire--they engage themselves to marry. Now marriage +is man's approval and confirmation of his belief in human +existence--they engage themselves to marry, but instead of putting +their threat into execution, they enter a railway carriage and blow +out their brains, proving thereby that they had brains to blow out." + +When, however, it transpired that letters were found in the pockets +of the suicides to the effect that they had hoped to gain such +notoriety as the daily press can give by their very flagrant +leave-taking of this world, Mike professed much regret, and gravely +assured his astonished listeners that, in the face of these letters +which had unhappily come to light, he withdrew his praise of the +quality of the brains blown out. In truth he secretly rejoiced that +proof of the imperfect sanity of the suicides had come to light and +assured himself that when he did away with Mike Fletcher, that he +would revenge himself on society by leaving behind him a document +which would forbid the usual idiotic verdict, "Suicide while in a +state of temporary insanity," and leave no loophole through which it +might be said that he was impelled to seek death for any extraneous +reasons whatever. He would go to death in the midst of the most +perfect worldly prosperity the mind could conceive, desiring nothing +but rest, profoundly convinced of the futility of all else, and the +perfect folly of human effort. + +In such perverse and morbid mind Mike returned to London. It was in +the beginning of August, and the Temple weltered in sultry days and +calm nights. The river flowed sluggishly through its bridges; the +lights along its banks gleamed fiercely in the lucent stillness of a +sulphur-hued horizon. Like a nightmare the silence of the apartment +lay upon his chest; and there was a frightened look in his eyes as he +walked to and fro. The moon lay like a creole amid the blue curtains +of the night; the murmur of London hushed in stray cries, and only +the tread of the policeman was heard distinctly. About the river the +night was deepest, and out of the shadows falling from the bridges +the lamps gleamed with strange intensity, some flickering sadly in +the water. Mike walked into the dining-room. He could see the sward +in the darkness that the trees spread, and the lilies reeked in the +great stillness. Then he thought of the old days when the _Pilgrim_ +was written in these rooms, and of the youthfulness of those days; +and he maddened when he recalled the evenings of artistic converse in +John Norton's room--how high were then their aspirations! The Temple, +too, seemed to have lost youth and gaiety. No longer did he meet his +old friends in the eating-houses and taverns. Everything had been +dispersed or lost. Some were married, some had died. + +Then the solitude grew more unbearable and he turned from it, hoping +he might meet some one he knew. As he passed up Temple Lane he saw a +slender woman dressed in black, talking to the policemen. He had +often seen her about the Courts and Buildings, and had accosted her, +but she had passed without heeding. Curious to hear who and what she +was, Mike entered into conversation with one of the policemen. + +"She! we calls her old Specks, sir." + +"I have often seen her about, and I spoke to her once, but she didn't +answer." + +"She didn't hear you, sir; she's a little deaf. A real good sort, +sir, is old Jenny. She's always about here. She was brought out in +the Temple; she lived eight years with a Q.C., sir. He's dead. A +strapping fine wench she was then, I can tell you." + +"And what does she do now?" + +"She has three or four friends here. She goes to see Mr.--I can't +think of his name--you know him, the red-whiskered man in Dr. +Johnson's Buildings. You have seen him in the Probate Court many a +time." And then in defence of her respectability, if not of her +morals, the policeman said, "You'll never see her about the streets, +sir, she only comes to the Temple." + +Old Jenny stood talking to the younger member of the force. When she +didn't hear him she cooed in the soft, sweet way of deaf women; and +her genial laugh told Mike that the policeman was not wrong when he +described her as a real good sort. She spoke of her last 'bus, and on +being told the time gathered up her skirts and ran up the Lane. + +Then the policemen related anecdotes concerning their own and the +general amativeness of the Temple. + +"But, lor, sir, it is nothing now to what it used to be! Some years +ago, half the women of London used to be in here of a night; now +there's very little going on--an occasional kick up, but nothing to +speak of." + +"What are you laughing at?" said Mike, looking from one to the other. + +The policemen consulted each other, and then one said-- + +"You didn't hear about the little shindy we had here last night, sir? +It was in Elm Court, just behind you, sir. We heard some one shouting +for the police; we couldn't make out where the shouting came from +first, we were looking about--the echo in these Courts makes it very +difficult to say where a voice comes from. At last we saw the fellow +at the window, and we went up. He met us at the door. He said, +'Policemen, the lady knocked at my door and asked for a drink; I +didn't notice that she was drunk, and I gave her a brandy-and-soda, +and before I could stop her she undressed herself!' There was the +lady right enough, in her chemise, sitting in the arm-chair, as drunk +as a lord, humming and singing as gay, sir, as any little bird. Then +the party says, 'Policeman, do your duty!' I says, 'What is my duty?' +He says, 'Policeman, I'll report you!' I says, 'Report yourself. I +knows my duty.' He says, 'Policeman, remove that woman!' I says, 'I +can't remove her in that state. Tell her to dress herself and I'll +remove her.' Well, the long and the short of it, sir, is, that we had +to dress her between us, and I never had such a job." + +The exceeding difficulties of this toilette, as narrated by the +stolid policeman, made Mike laugh consummately. Then alternately, and +in conjunction, the policemen told stories concerning pursuits +through the areas and cellars with which King's Bench Walk abounds. + +"It was from Paper Buildings that the little girl came from who tried +to drown herself in the fountain." + +"Oh, I haven't heard about her," said Mike. "She tried to drown +herself in the fountain, did she? Crossed in love; tired of life; +which was it?" + +"Neither, sir; she was a bit drunk, that was about it. My mate could +tell you about her, he pulled her out. She's up before the magistrate +to-day again." + +"Just fancy, bringing a person up before a magistrate because she +wanted to commit suicide! Did any one ever hear such rot? If our own +persons don't belong to us, I don't know what does. But tell me about +her." + +"She went up to see a party that lives in Pump Court. We was at home, +so she picks up her skirts, runs across here, and throws herself in. +I see her run across, and follows her; but I had to get into the +water to get her out; I was wet to the waist--there's about four feet +of water in that 'ere fountain." + +"And she?" + +"She had fainted. We had to send for a cab to get her to the station, +sir." + +At that moment the presence of the sergeant hurried the policemen +away, and Mike was left alone. The warm night air was full of the +fragrance of the leaves, and he was alive to the sensation of the +foliage spreading above him, and deepening amid the branches of the +tall plane-trees that sequestered and shadowed the fountain. They +grew along the walls, forming a quiet dell, in whose garden silence +the dripping fountain sang its song of falling water. Light and shade +fell picturesquely about the steps descending to the gardens, and the +parapeted buildings fell in black shadows upon the sward, and stood +sharp upon the moon illuminated blue. Mike sat beneath the +plane-trees, and the suasive silence, sweetly tuned by the dripping +water, murmured in his soul dismal sorrowings. Over the cup, whence +issued the jet that played during the day, the water flowed. There +were there the large leaves of some aquatic plant, and Mike wondered +if, had the policeman not rescued the girl, she would now be in +perfect peace, instead of dragged before a magistrate and forced to +promise to bear her misery. + +"A pretty little tale," he thought, and he saw her floating in +shadowy water in pallor and beauty, and reconciliation with nature. +"Why see another day? I must die very soon, why not at once? +Thousands have grieved as I am grieving in this self-same place, have +asked the same sad questions. Sitting under these ancient walls young +men have dreamed as I am dreaming--no new thoughts are mine. For five +thousand years man has asked himself why he lives. Five thousand +years have changed the face of the world and the mind of man; no +thought has resisted the universal transformation of thought, save +that one thought--why live? Men change their gods, but one thought +floats immortal, unchastened by the teaching of any mortal gods. Why +see another day? why drink again the bitter cup of life when we may +drink the waters of oblivion?" + +He walked through Pump Court slowly, like a prisoner impeded by the +heavy chain, and at every step the death idea clanked in his brain. +All the windows were full of light, and he could hear women's voices. +In imagination he saw the young men sitting round the sparely +furnished rooms, law-books and broken chairs--smoking and drinking, +playing the piano, singing, thinking they were enjoying themselves. A +few years and all would be over for them as all was over now for him. +But never would they drink of life as he had drunk, he was the type +of that of which they were but imperfect and inconclusive figments. +Was he not the Don Juan and the poet--a sort of Byron doubled with +Byron's hero? But he was without genius; had he genius, genius would +force him to live. + +He considered how far in his pessimism he was a representative of the +century. He thought how much better he would have done in another +age, and how out of sympathy he was with the utilitarian dullness of +the present time; how much more brilliant he would have been had he +lived at any other period of the Temple's history. Then he stopped to +study the style of the old staircase, the rough woodwork twisting up +the wall so narrowly, the great banisters full of shadow lighted by +the flickering lanterns. The yellowing colonnade--its beams and +overhanging fronts were also full of suggestion, and the suggestion +of old time was enforced by the sign-board of a wig-maker. + +"The last of an ancient industry," thought Mike. "The wig is +representative of the seventeenth as the silk hat is of the +nineteenth century. I wonder why I am so strongly fascinated with the +seventeenth century?--I, a peasant; atavism, I suppose; my family +were not always peasants." + +Turning from the old Latin inscription he viewed the church, so +evocative in its fortress form of an earlier and more romantic +century. The clocks were striking one, two hours would bring the dawn +close again upon the verge of the world. Mike trembled and thought +how he might escape. The beauty of the cone of the church was +outlined upon the sky, and he dreamed, as he walked round the +shadow-filled porch, full of figures in prayer and figures holding +scrolls, of the white-robed knights, their red crosses, their long +swords, and their banner called Beauseant. He dreamed himself Grand +Master of the Order; saw himself in chain armour charging the +Saracen. The story of the terrible idol with the golden eyes, the +secret rites, the knight led from the penitential cell and buried at +daybreak, the execution of the Grand Master at the stake, turned in +his head fitfully; cloud-shapes that passed, floating, changing +incessantly, suddenly disappearing, leaving him again Mike Fletcher, +a strained, agonized soul of our time, haunted and hunted by an idea, +overpowered by an idea as a wolf by a hound. + +His life had been from the first a series of attempts to escape from +the idea. His loves, his poetry, his restlessness were all derivative +from this one idea. Among those whose brain plays a part in their +existence there is a life idea, and this idea governs them and leads +them to a certain and predestined end; and all struggles with it are +delusions. A life idea in the higher classes of mind, a life instinct +in the lower. It were almost idle to differentiate between them, both +may be included under the generic title of the soul, and the drama +involved in such conflict is always of the highest interest, for if +we do not read the story of our own soul, we read in each the story +of a soul that might have been ours, and that passed very near to us; +and who reading of Mike's torment is fortunate enough to say, "I know +nothing of what is written there." + +His steps echoed hollow on the old pavement. Full of shadow the roofs +of the square church swept across the sky; the triple lancet windows +caught a little light from the gaslight on the buildings; and he +wondered what was the meaning of the little gold lamb standing over +one doorway, and then remembered that in various forms the same +symbolic lamb is repeated through the Temple. He passed under the +dining-hall by the tunnel, and roamed through the spaces beneath the +plane-trees of King's Bench Walk. "My friends think my life was a +perfect gift, but a burning cinder was placed in my breast, and time +has blown it into flame." + +In the soporific scent of the lilies and the stocks, the night +drowsed in the darkness of the garden; Mike unlocked the gate and +passed into the shadows, and hypnotized by the heavenly spaces, in +which there were a few stars; by the earth and the many emanations of +the earth; by the darkness which covered all things, hiding the +little miseries of human existence, he threw himself upon the sward +crying, "Oh, take me, mother, hide me in thy infinite bosom, give me +forgetfulness of the day. Take and hide me away. We leave behind a +corpse that men will touch. Sooner would I give myself to the filthy +beaks of vultures, than to their more defiling sympathies. Why were +we born? Why are we taught to love our parents? It is they whom we +should hate, for it was they who, careless of our sufferings, +inflicted upon us the evil of life. We are taught to love them +because the world is mad; there is nothing but madness in the world. +Night, do not leave me; I cannot bear with the day. Ah, the day will +come; nothing can retard the coming of the day, and I can bear no +longer with the day." + +Hearing footsteps, he sprang to his feet, and walking in the +direction whence the sound came, he found himself face to face with +the policeman. + +"Not able to get to sleep sir?" + +"No, I couldn't sleep, the night is so hot; I shall sleep presently +though." + +They had not walked far before the officer, pointing to one of the +gables of the Temple gardens, said-- + +"That's where Mr. Williamson threw himself over, sir; he got out on +the roof, on to the highest point he could reach." + +"He wanted," said Mike, "to do the job effectually." + +"He did so; he made a hole two feet deep." + +"They put him into a deeper one." + +The officer laughed; and they walked round the gardens, passing by +the Embankment to King's Bench Walk. Opening the gate there, the +policeman asked Mike if he were coming out, but he said he would +return across the gardens, and let himself out by the opposite gate. +He walked, thinking of what he and the policeman had been saying--the +proposed reduction in the rents of the chambers, the late innovation +of throwing open the gardens to the poor children of the +neighbourhood, and it was not until he stooped to unlock the gate +that he remembered that he was alive. + +Then the voice that had been counselling him so long, drew strangely +near, and said "Die." The voice sounded strangely clear in the void +of a great brain silence. Earth ties seemed severed, and then quite +naturally, without any effort of mind, he went up-stairs to shoot +himself. No effort of mind was needed, it seemed the natural and +inevitable course for him to take, and he was only conscious of a +certain faint surprise that he had so long delayed. There was no +trace of fear or doubt in him; he walked up the long staircase +without embarrassment, and in a heavenly calm of mind hastened to put +his project into execution, dreading the passing of the happiness of +his present mood, and the return of the fever of living. He stopped +for a moment to see himself in the glass, and looking into the depths +of his eyes, he strove to read there the story of his triumph over +life. Then seeing the disorder of his dress, and the untidy +appearance of his unshaven chin, he smiled, conceiving in that moment +that it would be consistent to make as careful a toilette to meet +death, as he had often done to meet a love. + +He was anxious for the world to know that it was not after a drunken +bout he had shot himself, but after philosophic deliberation and +judicious reflection. And he could far better affirm his state of +mind by his dress, than by any written words. Lying on the bed, +cleanly shaved, wearing evening clothes, silk socks, patent leather +shoes and white gloves? No, that would be vulgar, and all taint of +vulgarity must be avoided. He must represent, even in a state of +symbol, the young man, who having drunk of life to repletion, and +finding that he can but repeat the same love draughts, says: "It is +far too great a bore, I will go," and he goes out of life just as +if he were leaving a fashionable _soiree_ in Piccadilly. That was +exactly the impression he wished to convey. Yes, he would have out +his opera hat and light overcoat. He was a little uncertain whether +he should die in the night, or wait for the day, and considering the +question, he lathered his face. "Curious it is," he thought, "I never +was so happy, so joyous in life before.... These walls, all that I +see, will in a few minutes disappear; it is this I, this Ego, which +creates them; in destroying myself I destroy the world.... How hard +this beard is! I never can shave properly without hot water!" + +As he pulled on a pair of silk socks and tied his white necktie he +thought of Lady Helen. Going to bed was not a bad notion--particularly +for a woman, and a woman in love, but it would be ridiculous for a +man. He looked at himself again in the long glass in the door of his +carved mahogany wardrobe, and was pleased to see that, although a +little jaded and worn, he was still handsome. Having brushed his hair +carefully, he looked out the revolver; he did not remember exactly +where he had put it, and in turning out his drawers he came upon a +bundle of old letters. They were mostly from Frank and Lizzie, and in +recalling old times they reminded him that if he died without making +a will, his property would go to the Crown. It displeased him to +think that his property should pass away in so impersonal a manner. +But his mind was now full of death; like a gourmet he longed to taste +of the dark fruit of oblivion; and the delay involved in making out +a will exasperated him, and it was with difficulty that he conquered +his selfishness and sat down to write. Fretful he threw aside the +pen; this little delay had destroyed all his happiness. To dispose of +his property in money and land would take some time; the day would +surprise him still in the world. After a few moments' reflection he +decided that he would leave Belthorpe Park to Frank Escott. + +"I dare say I'm doing him an injury ... but no, there's no time for +paradoxes--I'll leave Belthorpe Park to Frank Escott. The aristocrat +shall not return to the people. But to whom shall I leave all my +money in the funds? To a hospital? No. To a woman? I must leave it to +a woman; I hardly know any one but women; but to whom? Suppose I were +to leave it to be divided among those who could advance irrefutable +proof that they had loved me! What a throwing over of reputation +there would be." Then a sudden memory of the girl by whom he had had +a child sprang upon him like something out of the dark. He wondered +for a moment what the child was like, and then he wrote leaving the +interest of his money to her, until his son, the child born in such +a year--he had some difficulty in fixing the date--came of age. She +should retain the use of the interest of twelve thousand pounds, and +at her death that sum should revert to the said child born in ----, +and if the said child were not living, his mother should become +possessor of the entire monies now invested in funds, to do with as +she pleased. + +"That will do," he thought; "I dare say it isn't very legal, but it +is common sense and will be difficult to upset. Yes, and I will leave +all my books and furniture in Temple Gardens to Frank; I don't care +much about the fellow, but I had better leave it to him. And now, +what about witnesses? The policemen will do." + +He found one in King's Bench Walk, another he met a little further +on, talking to a belated harlot, whom he willingly relinquished on +being invited to drink. Mike led the way at a run up the high steps, +the burly officers followed more leisurely. + +"Come in," he cried, and they advanced into the room, their helmets +in their hands. "What will you take, whiskey or brandy?" + +After some indecision both decided, as Mike knew they would, for the +former beverage. He offered them soda-water; but they preferred a +little plain water, and drank to his very good health. They were, as +before, garrulous to excess. Mike listened for some few minutes, so +as to avoid suspicion, and then said-- + +"Oh, by the way, I wrote out my will a night or two ago--not that I +want to die yet, but one never knows. Would you mind witnessing it?" + +The policemen saw no objection; in a few moments the thing was done, +and they retired bowing, and the door closed on solitude and death. + +Mike lay back in his chair reading the document. The fumes of the +whiskey he had drunk obscured his sense of purpose, and he allowed +his thoughts to wander; his eyes closed and he dozed, his head leaned +a little on one side. He dreamed, or rather he thought, for it was +hardly sleep, of the dear good women who had loved him; and he mused +over his folly in not taking one to wife and accepting life in its +plain naturalness. + +Then as sleep deepened the dream changed, becoming hyperbolical and +fantastic, until he saw himself descending into hell. The numerous +women he had betrayed awaited him and pursued him with blazing lamps +of intense and blinding electric fire. And he fled from the light, +seeking darkness like some nocturnal animal. His head was leaned +slightly on one side, the thin, weary face lying in the shadow of the +chair, and the hair that fell thickly on the moist forehead. As he +dreamed the sky grew ghastly as the dead. The night crouched as if in +terror along the edges of the river, beneath the bridges and among +the masonry and the barges aground, and in the ebbing water a lurid +reflection trailed ominously. And as the day ascended, the lamps +dwindled from red to white, and beyond the dark night of the river, +spires appeared upon faint roseate gray. + +Then, as the sparrows commenced their shrilling in the garden, +another veil was lifted, and angles and shapes on the warehouses +appeared, and boats laden with newly-cut planks; then the lights that +seemed to lead along the river turned short over the iron girders, +and in white whiffs a train sped across the bridge. The clouds lifted +and cleared away, changing from dark gray to undecided purple, and in +the blank silver of the east, the spaces flushed, and the dawn +appeared in her first veil of rose. And as if the light had +penetrated and moved the brain, the lips murmured-- + +"False fascination in which we are blinded. Night! shelter and save +me from the day, and in thy opiate arms bear me across the world." + +He turned uneasily as if he were about to awake, and then his eyes +opened and he gazed on the spectral pallor of the dawn in the +windows, his brain rousing from dreams slowly into comprehension of +the change that had come. Then collecting his thoughts he rose and +stood facing the dawn. He stood for a moment like one in combat, and +then like one overwhelmed retreated through the folding doors, +seeking his pistol. + +"Another day begun! Twelve more hours of consciousness and horror! I +must go!" + + * * * * * * + +None had heard the report of the pistol, and while the pomp of gold +and crimson faded, and the sun rose into the blueness of morning, +Mike lay still grasping the revolver, the blood flowing down his +face, where he had fallen across the low bed, raised upon lions' +claws and hung with heavy curtains. Receiving no answer, the servant +had opened the door. A look of horror passed over her face; she +lifted his hand, let it fall, and burst into tears. + +And all the while the sun rose, bringing work and sorrow to every +living thing--filling the fields with labourers, filling the streets +with clerks and journalists, authors and actors. And it was in the +morning hubbub of the Strand that Lizzie Escott stopped to speak to +Lottie, who was going to rehearsal. + +"How exactly like his father he is growing," she said, speaking of +the little boy by the actress's side. "Frank saw Mike in Piccadilly +about a month ago; he promised to come and see us, but he never did." + +"Swine.... He never could keep a promise. I hope Willy won't grow up +like him." + +"Who are you talking of, mother? of father?" + +The women exchanged glances. + +"He's as sharp as a needle. And to think that that beast never gave +me but one hundred pounds, and it was only an accident I got that--we +happened to meet in the underground railway. He took a ticket for +me--you know he could always be very nice if he liked; he told me a +lady had left him five thousand a year, and if I wanted any money I +had only to ask him for it. I asked him if he wouldn't like to see +the child, and he said I mustn't be beastly; I never quite knew what +he meant; but I know he thought it funny, for he laughed a great +deal, and I got into such a rage. I said I didn't want his dirty +money, and got out at the next station. He sent me a hundred pounds +next day. I haven't heard of him since, and don't want to." + +"Suicide of a poet in the Temple!" shouted a little boy. + +"I wonder who that is," said Lizzie. + +"Mike used to live in the Temple," said Lottie. + +The women read the reporter's account of the event, and then Lottie +said-- + +"Isn't it awful! I wonder what he has done with his money?" + +"You may be sure he hasn't thought of us. He ought to have thought of +Frank. Frank was very good to him in old times." + +"Well, I don't care what he has done with his money. I never cared +for any man but him. I could have forgiven him everything if he had +only thought of the child. I hope he has left him something." + +"Now I'm sure you are talking of father." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIKE FLETCHER*** + + +******* This file should be named 16730.txt or 16730.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/7/3/16730 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/16730.zip b/16730.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..234b925 --- /dev/null +++ b/16730.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f397283 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #16730 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16730) |