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diff --git a/29868.txt b/29868.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5f90c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/29868.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7266 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Love and Lucy, by Maurice Henry Hewlett + + +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: Love and Lucy + + +Author: Maurice Henry Hewlett + + + +Release Date: August 31, 2009 [eBook #29868] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE AND LUCY*** + + +E-text prepared by David Edwards, Ritu Aggarwal, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page +images generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/americana) + + + +Note: Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/lovelucy00hewliala + + + + + +LOVE AND LUCY + +by + +MAURICE HEWLETT + +Author of "The Forest Lovers," "The Life and +Death of Richard Yea and Nay," etc. + + + + + + + +New York +Dodd, Mead and Company +1916 + +Copyright, 1916 +by Dodd, Mead and Company, Inc. + + + + _BEATI POSSIDENTES_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER + + I ONSLOW SQUARE 1 + II A DINNER PARTY 16 + III IN THE DRAWING-ROOM 31 + IV AFTER-TALK 41 + V EROS STEPS IN 53 + VI A LEAP OUTWARDS 74 + VII PATIENCE AND PSYCHE 84 + VIII AGAIN 102 + IX SUNDRY ROMANTIC EPISODES 112 + X AT A WORLD'S EDGE 121 + XI ANTEROS 134 + XII MARTLEY THICKET (1) 148 + XIII MARTLEY THICKET (2) 162 + XIV THE GREAT SCHEME 175 + XV JAMES 188 + XVI _Amari Aliquid_ 196 + XVII THE SHIVERING FIT 209 + XVIII THE HARDANGER 227 + XIX THE MOON-SPELL 235 + XX FAIR WARNING 247 + XXI THE DEPARTURE 256 + XXII CATASTROPHE 268 + XXIII JAMES AND JIMMY 280 + XXIV URQUHART'S APOLOGY 292 + EPILOGUE: _Quid Plura_? 306 + + + + +LOVE AND LUCY + + +CHAPTER I + +ONSLOW SQUARE + + +This is a romantic tale. So romantic is it that I shall be forced to +pry into the coy recesses of the mind in order to exhibit a connected, +reasonable affair, not only of a man and his wife prosperously seated +in the mean of things, _nel mezzo del cammin_ in space as well as +time--for the Macartneys belonged to the middle class, and were well +on to the middle of life themselves--, but of stript, quivering and +winged souls tiptoe within them, tiptoe for flight into diviner spaces +than any seemly bodies can afford them. As you peruse you may find it +difficult to believe that Macartney himself--James Adolphus, that +remarkable solicitor--could have possessed a quivering, winged soul +fit to be stript, and have hidden it so deep. But he did though, and +the inference is that everybody does. As for the lady, that is not so +hard of belief. It very seldom is--with women. They sit so much at +windows, that pretty soon their eyes become windows themselves--out of +which the soul looks darkling, but preening; out of which it sometimes +launches itself into the deep, wooed thereto or not by _aubade_ or +_serena_. But a man, with his vanity haunting him, pulls the blinds +down or shuts the shutters, to have it decently to himself, and his +looking-glass; and you are not to know what storm is enacting deeply +within. Finally, I wish once for all to protest against the fallacy +that piracy, brigandage, pearl-fishery and marooning are confined to +the wilder parts of the habitable globe. Never was a greater, if more +amiable, delusion fostered (to serve his simplicity) by Lord Byron and +others. Because a man wears trousers, shall there be no more cakes and +ale? Because a woman subscribes to the London Institution, desires the +suffrage, or presides at a Committee, does the _bocca baciata perde +ventura_? Believe me, no. There are at least two persons in each of +us, one at least of which can course the starry spaces and inhabit +where the other could hardly breathe for ten minutes. Such is my own +experience, and such was the experience of the Macartney pair--and now +I have done with exordial matter. + +The Macartneys had a dinner-party on the twelfth of January. There +were to be twelve people at it, in spite of the promised assistance of +Lancelot at dessert, which Lucy comforted herself by deciding would +only make twelve and a half, not thirteen. She told that to her +husband, who fixed more firmly his eyeglass, and grunted, "I'm not +superstitious, myself." He may not have been, but certainly, Lucy told +herself, he wasn't very good at little jokes. Lancelot, on the other +hand, was very good at them. "Twelve and a half!" he said, lifting one +eyebrow, just like his father. "Why, I'm twelve and a half myself!" +Then he propounded his little joke. "I say, Mamma, on the twelve and +halfth of January--because the evening is exactly half the day--twelve +and a half people have a dinner-party, and one of them _is_ twelve and +a half. Isn't that neat?" + +Lucy encouraged her beloved. "It's very neat indeed," she said, and +her grey eyes glowed, or seemed to glow. + +"It's what we call an omen at school," said Lancelot. "It means--oh, +well, it means lots of things, like you're bound to have it, and it's +bound to be a frightful success, or an utter failure, or something of +that kind." He thought about it. Developments crowded upon him. "I +say, Mamma--" all this was at breakfast, Macartney shrouding himself +in the _Morning Post_: + +"Yes, Lancelot?" + +"It would be awfully good, awfully ingenious and all that, if one of +the people was _twice_ twelve and a half." + +She agreed. "Yes, I should like that. Very likely one of them is." + +Lancelot looked extremely serious. "Not Mr. Urquhart?" he said. + +"No," said Lucy, "I am sure Mr. Urquhart is older than that. But +there's Margery Dacre. She might do." + +Lancelot had his own ideas as to whether women counted or not, in +omens, but was too polite to express them. + +"Is she twenty-five, do you think? She's rather thin." Lucy exploded, +and had to kiss the unconscious humourist. "Do you think we grow +fatter as we grow older? Then you must think me immense, because I'm +much more than twenty-five," she said. + +Here was a vital matter. It is impossible to do justice to Lancelot's +seriousness, on the edge of truth. "How much more are you, really?" +he asked her, trembling for the answer. + +She looked heavenly pretty, with her drawn-back head and merry eyes. +She was a dark-haired woman with a tender smile; but her eyes were +her strong feature--of an intensely blue-grey iris, ringed with +black. Poising to tantalise him, adoring the fun of it, suddenly she +melted, leaned until her cheek touched his, and whispered the dreadful +truth--"_Thirty-one_." + +I wish I could do justice to his struggle, politeness tussling with +pity for a fall, but tripping it up, and rising to the proper +lightness of touch. "Are you really thirty-one? Oh, well, that's +nothing." It was gallantly done. She kissed him again, and Lancelot +changed the subject. + +"There's Mr. Lingen, isn't there?" he asked, adding, "He's always +here." + +"Much more than twenty-five," said his mother, very much aware of Mr. +Lingen's many appearances in Onslow Square. She made one more attempt +at her husband, wishing, as she always did wish, to draw him into the +company. It was not too successful. "Lingen? Oh, a stripling," he said +lightly and rustled the _Morning Post_ like an aspen tree. + +"Father always talks as if he was a hundred himself," said Lancelot, +who was not afraid of him. He had to be content with Miss Dacre after +all. The others--the Judge and Lady Bliss, Aunt Mabel and Uncle +Corbet, the Worthingtons, were out of the question. As for Miss +Bacchus--oh, Miss Bacchus was, _at least_, five hundred, said +Lancelot, and wished to add up all the ages to see if they came to a +multiple of twelve and a half. + +Meanwhile Mr. Macartney in his leisurely way had risen from the table, +cigar in mouth, had smoothed his hair before the glass on the +chimney-piece, looked at his boots, wriggled his toes in them with +gratifying results, adjusted his coat-collar, collected his letters in +a heap, and left the room. They saw no more of him. Half an hour later +the front door shut upon him. He had gone to his office, or, as he +always said, Chambers. + +He was rather bleak, and knew it, reckoning it among his social +assets. Reduced into a sentence, it may be said of Macartney that the +Chief Good in his philosophy was to be, and to seem, successful +without effort. What effort he may have made to conceal occasional +strenuous effort is neither here nor there. The point is that, at +forty-two, he found himself solidly and really successful. The +husband of a very pretty wife, the father of a delightful and healthy +son, the best-dressed solicitor in London, and therefore, you may +fairly say, in the world, with an earned income of some three or four +thousand a year, with money in the funds, two houses, and all the rest +of it, a member of three very old-fashioned, most uncomfortable and +absurdly exclusive clubs--if this is not success, what is? And all got +smoothly, without a crease of the forehead, by means of an eyeglass, a +cold manner and an impassivity which nothing foreign or domestic had +ever disturbed. He had ability too, and great industry, but it was +characteristic of him to reckon these as nothing in the scales against +the eyeglass and the manner. They were his by the grace of God; but +the others, he felt, were his own additions, and of the best. These +sort of investments enabled a man to sleep; they assured one of +completeness of effect. Nevertheless he was a much more acute and +vigorous-minded man than he chose to appear. + +He was a solicitor, it is true, and had once been called an attorney +by a client in a rage; but he could afford to smile at that because he +was quite a peculiar sort of solicitor, by no means everybody's +money. Rather, he was a luxury, an appanage of the great. His office, +which he called "Chambers," as if it was an old house in the country, +was in Cork Street; his clients were landed gentry, bankers, peers and +sons of peers. The superior clergy, too: he handled the affairs of a +Bishop of Lukesboro', and those of no less than three Deans and +Chapters. Tall, dark and trenchant, with a strong nose and chin, and +clouded grey eyes, a handsome man with a fine air of arrogant comfort +on him, he stood well, and you could not but see what good clothes he +wore--to my taste, I confess, a little too good. His legs were a +feature, and great play was made by wits with his trousers. He was +said to have two hundred pairs, and to be aiming at three hundred and +sixty-five. Certainly they had an edge, and must have been kept in +order like razors; but the legend that they were stropped after every +day's use is absurd. They used to say that they would cut paper +easily, and every kind of cheese except Parmesan. + +He wore an eyeglass, which, with the wry smile made necessary by its +use, had the marked effect of intimidating his clients and driving +them into indiscretions, admissions and intemperate discourse. +Hypnotised by the unknown terrific of which the glitter of the blank +surface, the writhen and antick smile were such formidable symbols, +they thought that he knew all, and provided that he should by telling +it him. To these engines of mastery he had added a third. He practised +laconics, and carried them to the very breaking point. He had in his +time--I repeat the tale--gone without his breakfast for three days +running rather than say that he preferred his egg poached. His wife +had been preoccupied at the time--it had been just before Lancelot was +born, barely a year after marriage--and had not noticed that he left +cup and platter untouched. She was very penitent afterwards, as he had +intended she should be. The egg was poached--and even so she was +afraid to ask him when the time was ripe to boil it again. It made her +miserable; but he never spoke of it. Of course all that was old +history. She was hardened by this time, but still dreadfully conscious +of his comforts, or possible discomforts. + +This was the manner of the man who, you may say, had quizzed, or +mesmerised, Lucy Meade into marriage. She had been scarcely eighteen; +I believe that she was just seventeen and a half when he presented +himself, the second of three pretty, dark-haired and grey-eyed girls, +the slimmest and, as I think, by far the prettiest. The Meades lived +at Drem House, which is practically within Bushey Park. Here the girls +saw much society, for the old Meades were hospitable, and the Mother +Meade, a Scotchwoman, had a great idea of establishing her daughters. +The sons she left to Father Meade and his competent money-bags. Here +then James Adolphus Macartney presented himself, and here sat smiling +bleakly, glaring through his glass, one eyebrow raised to enclose it +safely--and waited for her to give herself away. Swaying beneath that +shining disk, she did it infallibly; and he heard her out at leisure, +and accepted her. + +That's poetry of course. Really, it came near to that. He had said to +her at a garden-party, in his easiest, airiest manner, "You can't help +knowing that I am in love with you. Now, don't you think that we +should be a happy couple? I do. What do you say, Lucy? Shall we have a +shot?" He had taken her hand--they were alone under a cedar tree--and +she had not known how to take it away. She was then kissed, and had +lost any opportunity there might have been. That was what really +happened, and as she told her sister Mabel some time afterwards, when +the engagement had been made public and there could be no question of +going back, "You know, Mabel, he seemed to expect it, and I couldn't +help feeling at the time that he was justified." Mabel, tossing her +head up, had protested, "Oh, my dear, nobody knows whether he was +justified but yourself;" and Lucy, "No, of course not." "The +question," Mabel went on, "is whether you encouraged him or not." Lucy +was clear about that: "No, not the least in the world. He--encouraged +himself. I felt that I simply had to do something." + +I suspect that that is perfectly true. I am sure that he did just as I +said he always did, and bluffed her into marriage with an eyeglass and +smile awry. Whether or no he bluffed himself into it too, tempted by +the power of his magic apparatus, is precisely the matter which I am +to determine. It may have been so--but anyhow the facts show you how +successful he was in doing what had to be done. _Cosa fatta capo ha_, +as the proverb says. The thing done, whether wisely or not, was +smoothly done. Everything was of a piece with that. He pulled off +whatever he tried for, without any apparent effort. People used to say +that he was like a river, smoothly flowing, very deep, rippling, +constant in mutability, husbanding and guiding his eddies. It's not a +bad figure of him. He liked it himself, and smiled more askew and +peered more blandly when he heard it. + +Small things betray men. Here is one. His signature was invariably in +full: "Yours very truly, James Adolphus Macartney." It was as if he +knew that Adolphus was rather comic opera, but wouldn't stoop to +disguise it. Why bother? He crowded it upon the Bishop, upon the Dean +and Chapter of Mells, upon old Lord Drake. He said, "Why conceal the +fact that my sponsors made a _faux pas_? There it is, and have done +with it. Such things have only to be faced to be seen as nothings. +What! are we reasonable beings?" + +Now when Lucy Meade, practically a child for all her sedateness and +serious eyes, married him, two things terrified her on the day. One +was her husband and the other lest her friends should discover it. +They never did, and in time her panic wore off. She fought it in the +watches of the night and in the glare of her lonely days. Not a soul, +not her mother, not even Mabel, knew her secret. James never became +comic to her; she never saw him a figure of fun; but she was able to +treat him as a human being. Lancelot's arrival made all the +difference in the world to that matter as to all her other matters, +for even Lucy herself could not help seeing how absurdly jealous James +was of his offspring. For a time he was thrown clean out of the saddle +and as near falling in his own esteem as ever in life. But he +recovered his balance, and though he never regained his old +ascendency, which had been that of a Ju-ju, he was able to feel +himself, as he said, "Master in his own house," with a very real +reserve of terrorism--if it should be wanted. The great thing, +Macartney thought, was discipline, constant, watchful discipline. A +man must bend everything to that. Women have to learn the virtue of +giving up, as well as of giving. Giving is easy; any woman knows that; +but giving up. Let that be seen as a subtle, a sublimated form of +giving, and the lesson is learned. But practice makes perfect. You +must never relax the rein. He never did. There was all the ingenuity +and patience of a woman about him. + +By this time, after twelve years and more of marriage, they were very +good friends; or, why not say, old acquaintances? There are two kinds +of crystallisation in love affairs, with all respect to M. de +Stendhal. One kind hardens the surfaces without any decorative +effect. There are no facets visible, no angles to catch the light. In +the case of the Macartney marriage I suspect this to have been the +only kind--a kind of callosity, protective and numbing. The less they +were thrown together, she found, the better friends they were. At home +they were really no more than neighbours; abroad she was Mrs. +Macartney, and never would dine out without him. She was +old-fashioned; her friends called her a prude. But she was not at all +unhappy. She liked to think of Lancelot, she said, and to be quiet. +And really, as Miss Bacchus (a terrible old woman) once said, Lucy was +so little of a married woman that she was perfectly innocent. + +But she was one-and-thirty, and as sweet and pretty a woman as you +would wish to see. She had the tender, dragging smile of a Luini +Madonna; grave, twilight eyes, full of compassionate understanding; +very dark eyebrows, very long lashes, like the fringe of rain over a +moorland landscape. She had a virginal shape, and liked her clothes to +cling about her knees. Long fingers, longish, thin feet. But her +humorous sense was acute and very delightful, and all children loved +her. Such charms as these must have been as obvious to herself as they +were to everybody else. She had a modest little court of her own. +Francis Lingen was almost admittedly in love with her; one of +Macartney's friends. But she accepted her riches soberly, and did not +fret that they must be so hoarded. If, by moments, as she saw herself, +or looked at herself, in the glass, a grain of bitterness surged up in +her throat, that all this fair seeming could not be put out to +usury--! well, she put it to herself very differently, not at all in +words, but in narrowed scrutinising eyes, half-turns of the pretty +head, a sigh and lips pressed together. There had been--nay, there +was--Lancelot, her darling. That was usufruct; but usury was a +different thing. There had never been what you would call, or Miss +Bacchus would certainly call, usury. That, indeed! She would raise her +fine brows, compress her lips, and turn to her bed, then put out the +light. Lying awake very often, she might hear James chain the front +door, trumpet through his nose on the mat, and slowly mount the stairs +to his own room. She thought resolutely of Lancelot pursuing his +panting quests at school, or of her garden in mid-June, or of the +gorse afire on Wycross Common,--and so to sleep. + +A long chapter, but you will know the Macartney pair by means of it. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A DINNER PARTY + + +This was not to be one of Macartney's grand full-dress dinner-parties, +the sort where you might have two lords, and would be sure to have one +with his lady; or a Cabinet Minister in a morning-coat and greenish +tie; or a squire and squiress from Northumberland up for a month of +the season; or the Dean of Mells. No, nor was it to be one which Lucy +had to give to her visiting-list, and at which, as Macartney rarely +failed to remark, there was bound to be a clergyman, and some lean +woman with straw-coloured hair interested in a Settlement. It was to +be a particular kind of dinner-party, this one, of which the first +object was to bring Urquhart in touch with Lingen. It could have been +done at a club, no doubt. Macartney admitted it. "Yes, I know, I +know,"--he used his most tired voice, as if he had been combating the +suggestion all along. "You are perfectly right. It might--if it had +not happened to be exactly what I didn't want. Jimmy Urquhart is +rather a queer fish. He is apt to shy off if one is not careful. It +don't suit me to bring them together explicitly, do you see? I want +them to happen on each other. They can do that better here than +anywhere. Do you see?" + +Lucy saw, or saw enough. She never enquired into James's law affairs. +"Shall I like Mr. Urquhart, do you think?" she asked him. + +The eyeglass focussed upon the cornice, and glared at a fly which +found itself belated there. "Oh, I think so. Why not?" + +"Well, you see, I don't know why not--or why I should. Have I ever +seen him?" + +James was bored. "No doubt you have. He's very much about." + +"Yes," said Lucy, "but I am not." + +James left the fly, and fixed her--apparently with horror. Then he +looked at his boots and moved his toes up and down. "He looks like a +naval officer," he said; "you instinctively seek the cuffs of his +coat. Beef-coloured face, blue eyes, a square-jawed chap. Yes, you +might like him. He might amuse you. He's a great liar." Lucy thought +that she might like Mr. Urquhart. + +On those lines the party was arranged: the Blisses because "we owe +them a dinner; and I think the Judge will be amused by Jimmy;" the +Worthingtons--make-weights; but "She's a soft pink woman, like a +Persian kitten." + +"Does Mr. Urquhart like that?" Lucy asked, but James, who didn't like +his jokes to be capped, said drily, "I don't know." + +Then Lucy's favourite sister Mabel was to be allowed because James +rather liked Corbet. He thought him good style. Now we wanted two +women. One must be Miss Bacchus--"hideous, of course," said James; "a +kind of crime, but very smart." He meant that she mixed with the +aristocracy, which was true, though nobody knew why. The last was to +be Margery Dacre, a very pretty girl. Lucy put her forward, and James +thought her over, gazing out of window. "I like her name," he said--so +Lucy knew that she was admitted. + +That was all. The rest was her care, and he washed his mind of it, +very sure that she would see to it. He wished the two men to meet for +a particular reason in a haphazard way, because it was better to drift +Urquhart into a thing than to lead him up to it. Moreover, it was not +at all disagreeable to him that Urquhart, a club and office +acquaintance, should see how comfortably placed he was, how well +appointed with wife and child, with manservant and maidservant and +everything that was his. Urquhart was a rich man, and to know that his +lawyer was rich was no bad thing. It inspired confidence. Now the +particular thing to be done with the two men, Francis Lingen and +Urquhart, was this. Francis Lingen, who might be a baronet some day +and well to do, was at the moment, as at most moments hitherto, very +short of money. Urquhart always had plenty. Macartney's idea was that +he might get Urquhart to fill Francis Lingen's pockets, on terms which +could easily be arranged. There was ample security, of course. Francis +Lingen could have gone to the Jews, or the bank, but if the thing +could be done in a gentlemanly way through one's lawyer, who also +happened to be a gentleman, in one's own set, and so on--well, why +not? + +Hence the little dinner, over whose setting forth Lucy puckered her +brows with Mrs. Jenkins, her admirable cook, and wrote many notes on +little slips of paper which she kept for the purpose. She knew quite +well when James was "particular" about a party. He said less than +usual when he was "particular." Over this one he said practically +nothing. So she toiled, and made a success of it. + +The drawing-room looked charming, and she herself in black over white, +with her pearls, the most charming thing in it. It wanted a week of +Lancelot's day for school; he was to come in to dessert--that was +understood. But the possible danger of a thirteenth was removed by +their being two tables of six each. James had suddenly ordered this +variation of practice--he did not say why--and so it was to be. +Crewdson, the invaluable butler-valet of the house, who presided over +a zenana of maids, and seemed to carry his whiskers into the fray like +an oriflamme, was visibly perturbed at this new notion. "Mr. Macartney +has his reason, we know. But how is one gentleman's servant to split +himself in halves? And where does he stand, Mrs. Jenkins? With tables +dotted about--like a cafe--or an archumpelygo?" He knew that it was +done in the highest places, but he knew his own place best. "We are +not what you call the smart set," he said. "We are not Park Lane or +Brook Street. But we are solid--the professions--the land and the +church. No jinks in this house. And small tables is jinks. Not a +dinner, but a kick-up." So Crewdson thought, and so he looked, but his +master was flint. + +Mabel came the first, the lively and successful Mabel, two years +younger than Lucy--she and Laurence: he was Laurence Corbet, Esq., of +Peltry Park, Wavertree, and Roehampton, S.W., a hunting man and +retired soldier, as neatly groomed as a man may be. He was jolly, and +adored his Mabel. He was county, and approved by James. Lucy used to +say of him that his smile could cure a toothache. Lancelot pounced +upon the pair instantly and retired with them to the conservatory to +show off his orange-tree, whose pip had been plunged on his first +birthday. But before long a suspicious sliding of the feet and a shout +from Corbet of "Goal!" betrayed the orange-tree's eclipse. + +Next plunged Miss Bacchus, with her front hair and front teeth, and +air of digging you in the ribs. She explained that she made a point of +being early lest she should be taken for an actress, and forestalled +Macartney's assurance that she never would be--which annoyed him. The +Worthingtons--she like an autumn flower-bed, and he pale and +sleek--and Francis Lingen came in together: Lingen, a very elegant, +pale pink and frail young man with a straw-coloured moustache, who +bowed when he shook your hand as if he was going to kiss it but +remembered just in time that he was in England. He lowered his voice +when he spoke to women, and most of them liked it. Lucy wasn't sure +whether she did or not. It made her self-conscious and perverse at +once. She found herself wondering (a) whether he was going to make +love to her, (b) when he was going to begin, and (c) how she might +best cut him out. All this was bewildering, made her feel stupid, and +annoyed her. But she really liked Francis Lingen, and had been amused +to discover how much he was "Francis" in her private mind. Certainly +he was very elegant. He had an outside pocket to his dress coat, and a +handkerchief which you could have plugged your tooth with. + +He had just said to Lucy, "I'm so glad to see you. It's more than a +week since we met--and I want your advice--" when Crewdson, like a +priest, announced Sir Matthew and Lady Bliss. The Judge and his dame +were before Lucy--the lady had a motherly soul in crimson satin and +paste, the gentleman square and solid, like a pillar-box with a bald +head. That is a pretty exact description of him. The Judge was very +square-headed, very shiny and very plain; but he was solid, and he was +useful. Macartney used to say that he had a face like a bad egg. +Certainly he was curdled--but he shone and looked healthy. + +Lucy allowed herself to be mothered, and in the meantime murmured the +Judge's name and Miss Bacchus's. + +"Everybody knows Miss Bacchus," said the gallant man, and Miss Bacchus +briskly rejoined, "More people know Tom Fool--" After that they got on +excellently. Then she heard from the door, "Mr. Urquhart" and had time +to turn Francis Lingen over to Lady Bliss before she faced the ruddy +and blue-eyed stranger. Her first thought, the only one she had time +for, was "What very blue eyes, what a very white shirt-front!" when +she shook hands. + +"How d'ye do? You won't know who I am," he said at once. + +"Oh, but I do," she assured him. "James described you to me." + +He blinked. "Oh, did he? I suppose he told you I was a great liar?" + +James's very words. She nodded without speaking, but laughter +flickered over her face like summer lightning. + +"Well," said Urquhart, "I am--to him. I've known Macartney for +years--long before you did. I like him, but I think he gives himself +airs. Now you can't, you know, when the man with you is a liar. You +never know where to have a liar, or whether you have him or not. And +then you get in a fright whether he's not having you. Macartney, +saving your presence, doesn't like being had." + +Lucy laughed, and turned to wave her hand to Lancelot in the entry of +the conservatory. + +"That your boy?" Urquhart asked. "But of course. He's like you--with +his father's tricks." That was perfectly true. "And that's your +sister, of course. Pretty woman. Like you too--you in a sunset." +Perfect unconsciousness robbed this open commentary of sting. + +Upon him drifted Mrs. Worthington, like a peony in the tideway. +Urquhart bowed. "Your servant, ma'am." + +She cried, "Hullo, Jimmy, you here?" + +"Where else?" + +"Why, I thought you were in Switzerland." + +"So I was," he said. "All among the curates. But I came back--because +they didn't." He turned to Lucy. "And because I was asked here." + +She asked him, "Were you ski-ing? Lancelot will grudge you that." + +He told her, "I was not. No lonely death for me. I was bobbing it. You +are swept off by dozens at a time there--by fifties in a cave. It's +more cheerful." Then he seemed to remark something which he thought +she ought to know. "Jimmy. You heard her? Now Macartney and I are both +called James. But who ever made a Jimmy of him?" She was annoyed with +him--the man seemed to suppose she could be pleased by crabbing +James--and glad of Margery Dacre, a mermaid in sea-green, who swam in +with apologies--due to Macartney's abhorrent eyeglass upon her. And +then they all went in to their archumpelygo, where Crewdson and his +ladies were waiting for them, _rari nautes_. + +Lucy's table--she was between the Judge and Urquhart and had Mabel, +Worthington and Miss Bacchus before her--at once took the mastery. +Urquhart fixed Crewdson with his eye and thenceforward commanded +him. James's eyeglass, speechless with horror over Lady Bliss's +shoulder, glared like a frosty moon. + +Miss Bacchus, it seems, was his old acquaintance. She too called him +Jimmy, and drove at him with vigour. He charged her not to rally him, +and being between the two sisters, talked to both of them at once, or +rather started them off, as a music-hall singer starts the gallery, +and then let them go on over his head. + +They talked of Wycross, Lucy's house in the country, compared it with +Peltry, which Mabel deprecated as a barrack, and came to hear of +Urquhart's house in the New Forest. It was called Martley Thicket. +Urquhart said it was a good sort of place. "I've made an immense +lake," he said, with his eyes so very wide that Miss Bacchus said, +"You're making two, now." He described Martley and the immense lake. +"House stands high in beech woods, but is cut out to the south. It +heads a valley--lawns on three sides, smooth as billiard tables--then +the lake with a marble lip--and steps--broad and low steps, in flights +of eight. Very good, you know. You shall see it." + +Lucy wanted to know, "How big was the lake, really." + +Urquhart said, "It looked a mile--but that's the art of the thing. +Really, it's two hundred and fifty yards. Much better than a jab in +the eye with a blunt stick. I did it by drainage, and a dam. Took a +year to get the water up. When a hunted stag took to it and swam +across, I felt that I'd done something. Fishing? I should think so. +And a bathing-house in a wooded corner--in a cane-brake of bamboos. +You'll like it." + +Miss Bacchus said, "I don't believe a word of it;" but he seemed not +to hear her. + +"When will you come and see it?" he asked Lucy. + +She agreed that see it she must, if only to settle whether it existed +or not. "You see that Miss Bacchus has no doubts." + +Urquhart said, "She never has--about anything. She is fixed in +certainty like a bee in amber. A dull life." + +"Bless you, Jimmy," she said, "I thrive on it--and you'll never +thrive." + +"Pooh!" said Urquhart, "what you call thriving I call degradation. +What! you snuggle in there out of the draughts--and then somebody +comes along and rubs you, and picks up bits of paper with you." His +good spirits made the thing go--and James's eyeglass prevailed not +against it. + +But Urquhart's real triumph was at dessert--Lancelot sedately by his +mother; between her and the Judge, who briskly made way for him. +Lancelot in his Eton jacket took on an air of precocious, meditative +wisdom infinitely diverting to a man who reflects upon boys--and, no +doubt, infinitely provocative. + +His coming broke up the talk and made one of those momentous pauses +which are sometimes paralysing to a table. This one was so, and even +threatened the neighbouring island. Upon it broke the voice of +Urquhart talking to Mabel Corbet. + +"I was out in Corfu in 1906," he was heard to say; "I was in fact in +the bath, when one of my wives came to the door, and said that there +was a Turk in the almond-tree. I got a duck-gun which I had and went +out--" Lancelot's eyes, fixed and pulsing, interdicted him. They held +up the monologue. In his hand was a robust apple; but that was +forgotten. + +"I say," he said, "have you got two wives?" + +Urquhart's eyes met his with an extenuating look. "It was some time +ago, you see," he said; and then, passing it off, "There are as many +as you like out there. Dozens." + +Lancelot absorbed this explanation through the eyes. You could see +them at it, chewing it like a cud. He was engrossed in it--Lucy +watched him. "I say--two wives!" and then, giving it up, with a savage +attack he bit into his apple and became incoherent. One cheek bulged +dangerously and required all his present attention. Finally, after a +time of high tension, Urquhart's wives and the apple were bolted +together, and given over to the alimentary juices. The Turk in the +almond-tree was lost sight of, and no one knows why he was there, or +how he was got out--if indeed he ever was. For all that, Urquhart +finished his story to his two ladies; but Lucy paid him divided +attention, being more interested in her Lancelot than in Urquhart's +Turk. + +Francis Lingen, at the other table, kept a cold eye upon the easy man +who was to provide him with ready money, as he hoped. He admired ease +as much as anybody, and believed that he had it. But he was very much +in love with Lucy, and felt the highest disapproval of Urquhart's kind +of spread-eagle hardihood. He bent over his plate like the +willow-tree upon one. His eyelids glimmered, he was rather pink, and +used his napkin to his lips. To his neighbour of the left, who was +Lady Bliss, he spoke _sotto voce_ of "our variegated friend," and felt +that he had disposed of him. But that "one of his wives" filled him +with a sullen despair. What were you to do with that sort of man? +Macartney saw all this and was dreadfully bored. "Damn Jimmy +Urquhart," he said to himself. "Now I shall have to work for my +living--which I hate, after dinner." + +But he did it. "We'll go and talk to the Judge," he said to his +company, and led the way. Urquhart settled down to claret, and was +taciturn. He answered Linden's tentative openings in monosyllables. +But he and the Judge got on very well. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +IN THE DRAWING-ROOM + + +After dinner, when the men came into the drawing-room, Francis Lingen +went directly to Lucy and began to talk to her. Lancelot fidgeted for +Urquhart who, however, was in easy converse with the Judge and his +host--looking at the water-colours as the talk went on, and cutting in +as a thought struck him. Lucy, seeing that all her guests were +reasonably occupied, lent herself to Lingen's murmured conversation, +and felt for it just so much tolerance, so much compassion, you may +say, as to be able to brave Mabel's quizzing looks from across the +room. Mabel always had a gibe for Francis Lingen. She called him the +Ewe Lamb, and that kind of thing. It was plain that she scorned him. +Lucy, on the other hand, pitied him without knowing it, which was even +more desperate for the young man. It had never entered Lingen's head, +however, that anybody could pity him. True, he was poor; but then he +was very expensive. He liked good things; he liked them choice. And +they must have distinction; above all, they must be rare. He had some +things which were unique: a chair in ivory and bronze, one of a set +made for Mme. de Lamballe, and two of Horace Walpole's snuff-boxes. He +had a private printing-press, and did his own poems, on vellum. He had +turned off a poem to Lucy while she was inspecting the _appareil_ +once. "To L. M. from the Fount." "Sonnets while you wait," said Mabel, +curving her upper lip; but there was nothing in it, because many +ladies had received the same tribute. He had borrowed that too from +Horace Walpole, and only wanted notice. Now you don't pity a man who +can do these things, even if he has got no money; and for what else +but want of money could you pity a man of taste? + +I believe myself that both Mabel and Lucy overrated Francis Lingen's +attentions. I don't think that they amounted to much more than +providing himself with a sounding-board, and occasional looking-glass. +He loved to talk, and to know himself listened to; he loved to look +and to know himself looked at. You learned a lot about yourself that +way. You saw how your things were taken. A poet--for he called himself +poet, and had once so described himself in a hotel visitors' book--a +poet can only practise his art by exerting it, and only learn its +effect by studying his hearers. He preferred ladies for audience, and +one lady at a time: there were obvious reasons for that. Men never +like other men's poetry. Wordsworth, we know, avowedly read but his +own. + +But Mabel, and Lucy too, read all sorts of implications. His lowered +tones, his frequency, his persistence--"My dear, he caresses you with +his eyes. You know he does," Mabel used to say. Lucy wondered whether +he really did, and ended by supposing it. + +Just now, therefore, Francis Lingen flowed murmuring on his way, like +a purling brook, rippling, fluctuant, carrying insignificant straws, +insects of the hour, on his course, never jamming, or heaving up, +monotonous but soothing. And as for implications--! Good Heavens, he +was stuffed with them like a Michaelmas goose.... "I do so wish that +you could talk with her. You could do so much to straighten things out +for the poor child. You are so wise. There's a kind of balm in your +touch upon life, something that's aromatic and healing at once. +_Sainfoin_, the healing herb--that should be your emblem. I have +always thought so. By the by, have you an emblem? I wish you'd let me +find you one. Old Gerrard will give it me--and I will give it to you. +Some patient, nimble-fingered good soul has coloured my copy. You +shall have it faithfully rendered; and it shall be framed by Le Notre +of Vigo Street--do you know his work? You must--and stand on your +writing-table.... I see you are shaping a protest. Frugality? Another +of your shining qualities. Not of mine? No, no. I admire it in you. It +is not a manly virtue. A 'frugal swain' means a harassed wife. Now, +confess. Would you have me board? I believe I would do it if you asked +me...." Not very exciting, all this; but if you want implications--! + +It was while this was going on that Lancelot, hovering and full of +purpose, annexed Urquhart. The Judge, suddenly aware of him between +them, put a hand upon his head as you might fondle the top of a +pedestal--which Lancelot, intent upon his prey, endured. Then his +moment came, a decent subsidence of anecdotes, and his upturned eyes +caught Urquhart's. + +"I say, will you come and see my orange-tree? It's just over there, +in the conservatory. It's rather interesting--to me, you know." + +Urquhart considered the proposition. "Yes," he said, "I'll do that." +And they went off, Lancelot on tiptoe. Lucy's attention strayed. + +The orange-tree was exhibited, made the most of; its history was +related. There was nothing more to say about it. Lancelot, his purpose +growing, gave a nervous laugh. + +"No Turk could hide in that, I expect," he said, and trembled. +Urquhart gazed at the weedy little growth. + +"No," he said, "he couldn't--yet. But a ladybird could." He picked out +a dormant specimen. But Lancelot was now committed to action beyond +recall. The words burned his lips. "I say," he said, twiddling a leaf +of his orange-tree, "I expect you've been a pirate?" + +The Judge had wandered in, and was surveying the pair, his hands deep +in his trousers-pockets. + +Urquhart nodded. "You've bit it," he said. + +Lancelot had been certain of it. Good Lord! The questions crowded upon +him. "What kind of a ship was yours?" + +"She was a brigantine. Fifteen hundred tons." + +"Oh! I say--" with the air of, You needn't tell me if you'd rather +not--"was she a good one?" + +"She was a clipper." + +"What name?" + +"The _Dog Star_." + +This was beyond everything. "Oh--good. Did you ever hang fellows?" + +"We did." + +"Many?" + +"Some." + +He had expected that too. He felt that he was being too obvious. The +man of the world in him came into use. "For treachery, I suppose, and +that kind of thing?" + +"Yes," said Urquhart, "and for fun, of course." + +Lancelot nodded gloomily. "I know," he said. + +"So does Sir Matthew, now," he said. "You've led me into admissions, +you know." + +"You are up to the neck," said the Judge. For a moment Lancelot looked +shrewdly from one to the other. Was it possible that--? No, no. He +settled all that. "It's all right. He's a guest, you see--the same as +you are." + +Urquhart was looking about him. "I should smoke a cigarette, if I had +one," he said. + +Lancelot's hospitality was awake. "Come into Father's room. He has +tons." He led the way for his two friends. They pierced the +conservatory and entered another open glass door. They were now in +James's private room. + +On the threshold Lancelot paused to exhibit what he said was a jolly +convenient arrangement. These were two bay windows, with two glass +doors. Between them stretched the conservatory. "Jolly convenient," +said Lancelot. "What, for burglars?" the Judge asked. "Yes, for +burglars, and policemen, and Father, you know ... I don't think," said +the terse Lancelot. "Why don't you think, my friend?" says the Judge, +and Lancelot became cautious. "Oh, Father won't come into the +drawing-room if he can possibly help it. He says it's Mamma's +province--but I expect he's afraid of meeting women, I mean ladies." +Urquhart blinked at him. "'Never be afraid of any one' will do for you +and me," he said; and Lancelot said deeply, "Rather not." Then they +went into the misogynist's study. The Judge and Urquhart were +accommodated with cigarettes, and Lancelot entertained them. But he +did not pry any further into Urquhart's past. A hint had been enough. + +Conversation was easy. Lancelot talked freely of his father. "Father +will be awfully waxy with me for not going to bed. He might easily +come in here--hope he won't, all the same. But do you know what he +likes? He likes the same things to happen at the same time every day. +Now Mamma and I don't agree with him, you see. So it's rather pink +sometimes." + +"I expect it is," Urquhart said. + +"Mamma of course likes to be quiet a bit. She doesn't like +ructions--hay, and all that. So I keep myself pretty close." + +"Quite right," said the Judge. + +"I know," Lancelot said, dreamily, and then with great briskness, +"Beastly grind, all the same." The Judge had a fit of coughing, and +Urquhart got up and looked about. Then the Judge said that he too +should catch it if he didn't go back and make himself polite. + +Lancelot led the way back, but at the entry of the drawing-room, where +the talk was buzzing like bees in a lime-tree, he put his hand on the +switch, and showed the whites of his eyes. "Shall I dare you to +switch it off?" he said to Urquhart, who replied, "Don't, or I shall +do it." Lancelot and he entered the room; but before the Judge +followed there was a momentary flicker of the lights. Lancelot nudged +Urquhart. "_He's_ all right," he said out of one corner of his mouth. +"Oh, he's all right," Urquhart agreed. + +They both went to Lucy, and Lingen looked mildly round, interrupted in +his flow. Lancelot's greeting was, "Darling, you really must go to +bed." He knew it. It was so obvious--the abhorrent eyeglass +apart--that he didn't even try the pathetic "Only a week before +school." + +He got up, enquiring of his mother if she would swear to come up +presently. "Well, good-bye," he said to Urquhart, and held out his +hand. + +"Good night to you," said Urquhart. "Anyhow, you know the worst." + +But Lancelot shook his cautious head. "No," he said, "not the +worst"--and then with a deep chuckle, "but the best. Hoho! Two wives!" +With that he went. + +"Jolly chap," said Urquhart, and sat himself down by Lucy, to Lingen's +inexpressible weariness. She warmed to his praise, but denied him, her +conscience at work. "No, you mustn't sit down. I shall take you to +talk to Lady Bliss. You'll like her." + +"No, I shan't," he said. "I can see that. And she'll think I've +corrupted her husband." But he had to go. Lingen, also, she recruited +for service. He had had a good innings and found himself able to be +enthusiastic about Urquhart. He could bear to discuss him--in possible +relations with himself, of course. Miss Bacchus sized him up aloud, +according to her habit. "Jimmy Urquhart--a good man? Yes, he's a live +man. No flies on Jimmy Urquhart. Been everywhere, had a bit of most +things. Why, I suppose Jimmy has eaten more things than you've ever +read about." + +"I've read Brillat-Savarin," said Lingen modestly. + +"I dare say Jimmy's had a notch out of _him_," said Miss Bacchus. +"He's what I call a blade." + +Lingen didn't ask her what she called him. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AFTER-TALK + + +Nevertheless the two men talked down to Knightsbridge together, and +Lingen did most of the talking. He chose to expand upon Macartney, the +nearest he dared get to the subject of his thoughts. "Now Macartney, +you know, is a very self-contained man. No doubt you've noticed how he +shies at expression. Chilling at times. Good in a lawyer, no doubt. +You get the idea of large reserves. But perhaps as a--well, as a +father, for instance-- That bright boy of theirs now. You may have +noticed how little there is between them. What do you think of the +Spartan parent--in these days?" + +"Oh, I think Mr. Lancelot can hold his own," said Urquhart. "He'll +do--with his mother to help. I don't suppose the Spartan boy differed +very much from any other kind of boy. Mostly they haven't time to +notice anything; but they are sharp as razors when they do." + +An eager note could be detected in Francis Lingen's voice, almost a +crow. "Ah, you've noticed then! The mother, I mean. Mrs. Macartney. +Now, there again, I think our friend overdoes the repression business. +A sympathetic attitude means so much to women." + +"She'll get it, somewhere," said Urquhart shortly. + +"Well," said Lingen, "yes, I suppose so. But there are the +qualifications of the martyr in Mrs. Macartney." + +"Greensickness," Urquhart proposed; "is that what you mean?" + +Lingen stared. "It had not occurred to me. But now you mention +it--well, a congestion of the faculties, eh?" + +"I don't know anything about it," said Urquhart. "She seemed to me a +fond mother, and very properly. Do you mean that Macartney neglects +her?" + +Lingen was timid by nature. "Perhaps I went further than I should. I +think that he takes a great deal for granted." + +"I always thought he was a supercilious ass," said Urquhart, "but I +didn't know that he was a damned fool." + +"I say,"--Lingen was alarmed. "I say, I hope I haven't made mischief." +Urquhart relieved him. "Bless you, not with me. I use a lawyer for +law. He's no fool there." + +"No, indeed," Lingen said eagerly. "I've found him most useful. In +fact, I trust him further than any man I know." + +"He's a good man," Urquhart said, "and he's perfectly honest. He'd +sooner put you off than on, any day. That's very sound in a lawyer. +But if he carries it into wedlock he's a damned fool, in my opinion." + +They parted on very good terms, Lingen for the Albany, Urquhart +elsewhere. + +Meantime Lancelot, wriggling in his bed, was discussing Urquhart. "I +say, Mamma," he said--a leading question--"do you think Mr. Urquhart +really had two wives?" + +"No, darling, I really don't. I think he was pulling our legs." + +That was bad. "All our legs?" + +"All that were pullable. Certainly your two." + +"Perhaps he was." Lancelot sighed. "Oh, what happened to the Turk? I +forgot him, thinking of his wives.... He said, 'one of my wives,' you +know. He might have had six then.... I say, perhaps Mr. Urquhart is a +Turk in disguise. What do you think?" + +Lucy was sleepy, and covered a yawn. "I don't think, darling. I can't. +I'm going to bed, and you are going to sleep. Aren't you now?" + +"Yes, of course, yes, of course. Did I tell you about the pirate part? +His ship was a brigantine ... called the _Dog Star_." + +"Oh, was it?" + +"Yes, it was. And he used to hang the chaps, sometimes for treachery, +and sometimes for fun." + +"How horrid!" said Lucy. "Good night." + +"Oh, well," came through the blankets, "of course you don't +understand, but I do. Good night." And he was asleep at the turn of +that minute. + +James had disappeared into his room, so she took herself off to bed. +Surely he might have said a word! It had all gone off so well. Mr. +Urquhart had been such a success, and she really liked him very much. +And how the Judge had taken to him! And how Lancelot! At the first +stair she stopped, in three quarters of a mind to go in and screw a +sentence out of him. But no! She feared the angry blank of the +eyeglass. Trailing up to bed, she thought that she could date the +crumbling of her married estate by the ascendency of the eyeglass. And +to think, only to think, that when she was engaged to James she used +to play with it, to try it in her eye, to hide it from him! Well, she +had Lancelot--her darling boy. That brought to mind that, a week +to-night, she would be orphaned of him. The day she dreaded was coming +again--and the blank weeks and months which followed it. + +True to his ideas of "discipline," of the value of doing a thing well +for its own sake, Macartney was dry about the merits of the +dinner-party when they met at breakfast. "Eh? Oh, yes, I thought it +went quite reasonably. Urquhart talked too much, I thought." + +"My dear James,"--she was nettled--"you really are--" + +He looked up; the eyeglass hovered in his hand. "_Plait-il_?" + +"Nothing. I only thought that you were hard to please." + +"Really? Because I think a man too vivacious?" + +Lancelot said to his porridge-bowl, over the spoon, "I think he's +ripping." + +"You've hit it," said his father. "He'd rip up anybody." + +Lucy, piqued upon her tender part, was provoked into what she always +avoided if she could--acrimony at breakfast. + +"I was hostess, you see; and I must say that the more people talk the +more I am obliged to them. I suppose that you asked Mr. Urquhart so +that he might be amusing...." + +James's head lifted again. You could see it over the _Morning Post_. +"I asked Urquhart for quite other reasons, you remember." + +"I don't know what they were," said Lucy. "My own reason was that he +should make things go. 'A party in a parlour...'" She bit her lip. The +_Morning Post_ quivered but recovered itself. + +"What was the party in a parlour, Mamma? Do tell me." That was +Lancelot, with a _flair_ for mischief. + +"It was 'all silent and all damned,'" said Lucy. + +"Jolly party," said Lancelot. "Not like yours, though." The _Morning +Post_ clacked like a bellying sail, then bore forward over an even +keel. Lucy, beckoning Lancelot, left the breakfast-room. + +She was ruffled, and so much so that Lancelot noticed it, and, being +the very soul of tact where she was concerned, spoke neither of his +father nor of Urquhart all the morning. In the afternoon the weather +seemed more settled, and he allowed himself more play. He would like +to see Mr. Urquhart on horseback, in a battle, he thought. He expected +he'd be like Henry of Navarre. Lucy thought that he might be. Would he +wear a white plume though? Much head-shaking over this. "Bareheaded, I +bet you. He's just that sort. Dashing about! Absolutely +reckless!--frightfully dangerous!--a smoking sword!--going like one +o'clock! Oh, I bet you what you like." Then with startling conviction, +"Father doesn't like him. Feels scored off, I expect. He wasn't +though, but he might be, all the same ... I think Father always +expects he's going to be scored off, don't you? At any minute." Lucy +set herself to combat this hazard, which was very amusing and by no +means a bad shot. Poor James! What a pity it was that he couldn't let +himself like anybody. It was true--it was quite true--he was afraid +of being scored off. She husbanded a sigh. "Poor James!" + +To pity James was a new experience. She felt all the better for it, +and was able to afford a lighter hand when they met at dinner. It may +even be that James himself had thought the time come for a little +relaxation of _askesis_, or he may have had something to forestall: he +seldom spoke of his affairs without design. At any rate, he told her +that Francis Lingen had been with him, and that Urquhart was likely to +be of use. "I've written to him, anyhow. He will do as he thinks well. +Urquhart is a sharp man of business." + +Lucy said, "He struck me so. I thought that he could never have any +doubt of his own mind." + +James wriggled his eyeglass, to wedge it more firmly. "Ah, you noticed +that? Very acute of you, Lucy. We may have a meeting before long--to +arrange the whole thing.... It's a lot of money ... ten thousand +pounds.... Your Francis is an expensive young man ... or let's say +_ci-devant jeune homme_." + +"Why do you call him 'my' Francis?" she asked--rather mischievous than +artless. + +The eyeglass dropped with a click and had to be sought. "Well, I can +hardly call him _mine_, could I?" + +"I don't see why he should be anybody's," said Lucy, "except his own." + +"My dear girl," said Macartney, "_himself_ is the last person he +belongs to. Francis Lingen will always belong to somebody. I must say +that he has chosen very wisely. You do him a great deal of good." + +"That's very nice of you," she said. "I own that I like Francis +Lingen. He's very gentle, not too foolish, and good to look at. You +must own that he's extremely elegant." + +"Oh," said James, tossing up his foot, "elegant! He is what his good +Horace would have called 'a very pretty fellow'--and what I call 'a +nice girl.'" + +"I'm sure he isn't worth so much savagery," Lucy said. "You are like +Ugolino--and poor Francis is your _fiero pasto_." + +James instantly corrected himself. "My besetting sin, Lucy. But I must +observe--" He applied his glazed eye to her feet--"the colour of your +stockings, my friend. Ha! a tinge of blue, upon my oath!" So it passed +off, and that night when, after his half-hour with the evening paper +in the drawing-room, he prepared to leave her, she held out her hand +to him, and said good night. He took it, waved it; and then stooped to +her offered cheek and pecked it delicately. The good girl felt quite +elate. She did so like people to be kind to her. + +Half an hour later yet, in her evening post was a letter from +Urquhart. He proposed for herself and Lancelot to go to the play with +him. The play, _Raffles_, "which ought to meet the case," he said. He +added, "I don't include Macartney in this jaunt, partly because he +won't want to come, but mainly because there won't be room for him. I +am taking a nephew, one Bob Nugent, an Osborne boy, but very gracious +to poor civilians like Lancelot and me." He signed himself, "Yours to +command." + +Lucy was pleased, and accepted promptly; and Lancelot was pleased when +he heard of it. His hackles were up at the graciousness of the Osborne +kid. He honked over it like a heron. "Ho! I expect you'll tell him +that I'm R. E., or going to be," he said, which meant that he himself +certainly would. The event, with subsequent modifications on the +telephone, proved to be the kind of evening that Lancelot's +philosophy had never dreamed of. They dined at the Cafe Royal, where +Urquhart pointed out famous Anarchists and their wives to his young +guests; they went on to the theatre in what he called a 'bus, but +Lancelot saw to be a mighty motor which rumbled like a volcano at +rest, and proceeded by a series of violent rushes, accompanied by +explosions of a very dangerous kind. The whole desperate passage, +short as it was, had the right feeling of law-breaking about it. +Policemen looked reproachfully at them as they fled on. Lancelot, as +guest of honour, sat in front, and wagged his hand like a semaphore at +all times and in all faces; he felt part policeman and part +malefactor, which was just right. Then they thrilled at the smooth and +accomplished villainy of Mr. Du Maurier, lost not one line of his +faultless clothes, nor one syllable of his easy utterance, "like +treacle off a spoon," said Urquhart; and then they tore back through +the starry night to Onslow Square, leaving in their wake the wrecks +and salvage of a hundred frail taxis; finally, from the doorstep waved +the Destroyer, as the boys agreed she should be called, upon her +ruthless course, listened to the short and fierce bursts of her wrath +until she was lost in the great sea of sound; and then--replete to +speechlessness--Lancelot looked up to his mother and squeezed her +hand. She saw that his eyes were full. "Well, darling?" she said. "You +liked all that?" Lancelot had recovered himself. He let go her hand. +His reply was majestic. "Not bad," he said. Lucy immediately hugged +him. + +Now that was exactly what James would have said, _mutatis mutandis_. +Yet she would not have hugged James for it, nor have loved him because +of it. "These are our crosses, Mr. Wesley!" Reflecting on the jaunt, +she warmed to the thought of Urquhart, who had, she felt, the knack of +making you at ease. What had he done, or how done it? Well, he seemed +to be interested in what you said. He looked at you, and waited for +it; then he answered, still looking at you. Now, so many men looked at +their toes when they answered you. James always did. Yet Mr. Urquhart +did not look too much: there were men who did that. No, not too much. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +EROS STEPS IN + + +When she was told that Francis Lingen and Urquhart were coming on the +nineteenth, not to dine, Lucy said, "Oh, what a bore!" and seeing the +mild shock inflicted on the eyeglass by her remark, explained that it +was Lancelot's day for going to school, and that she was always +depressed at such times. The eyeglass dropped, and its master +stretched out his fine long legs, with a great display of black +speckled sock. "My dear, absurd as it may seem, they are coming to see +Me. I know your little way. You shan't be disturbed, if I may be +indulged so far as to contrive that the house hold us both. I had +thought that it would be only civil to bring them in to you for a +minute or two, when they've done. But that is for you to decide." + +She was immediately penitent. "Oh, do, of course. I daresay they will +be useful. I'm very foolish to miss him so much." The eyeglass +ruefully stared at the fire. + +"Urquhart consents," said James, "and Lingen will have his money. +More snuff-boxes, you'll find. But he's had to work for it. Insured +his life--and a letter from Sir Giles, which must have cost him +something." Sir Giles Lingen was the uncle of Francis, a childless +veteran. He turned his disk upon her for a moment. "You like +Urquhart?" + +"Yes," Lucy said, "I do. I like him--because he likes Lancelot." + +"Ah," said James, who thought her weak where the boy was concerned. He +added, "Urquhart gets on with children. He's a child himself." + +"Why do you call him that?" she asked, with a tinge of offence in her +voice. James could raise the fine hairs at the back of her neck by a +mere inflection. + +He accepted battle. "Because he only thinks of one thing at a time. +Because to get what he wants he'll sacrifice every mortal thing--very +often the thing itself which he's after." + +But Lucy had heard all that before, and wasn't impressed. "All men are +like that," she said. "I could give you a much better reason." + +James and his eyeglass both smiled. "Your exquisite reason?" + +"He is like a child," said Lucy, "because he doesn't know that +anybody is looking at him, and wouldn't care if anybody was." + +James clasped his shin. "Not bad," he said, "not at all bad. But the +test of that is the length to which you can carry it. Would he wear a +pot hat with a frock-coat?--that's the crux." + +It really was, to James, as she knew very well. She perused the +glowing fire with its blue salt flames. Perhaps to most men. Probably +also to Mr. Urquhart. But she felt that she would be lowering a +generous ideal if she probed any further: so James was left to his +triumph. + + * * * * * + +The fatal week wore on apace; one of the few remaining days was wholly +occupied with preparations for the last. A final jaunt together was +charged with a poignancy of unavailing regrets which made it a harder +trial than the supreme moment. Never, never, had she thought this +bright and intense living thing which she had made, so beautiful and +so dear. Nor did it make a straw's worth of difference to the passion +with which she was burdened that she felt precisely the same thing +every time he left her. As for Lancelot, he took her obvious trouble +like the gentleman he was. He regretted it, made no attempt to +conceal that, but was full of little comfortable suggestions which +made her want to cry. "You'll have no more sapping upstairs directly +after dinner, I suppose!" was one of them; another was, "No more +draughty adventures by the Round Pond." Lucy thought that she would +have stood like Jane Shore by the Round Pond, in a blizzard, for +another week of him. But she adored him for his intention, and was +also braced by it. Her sister Mabel, who had three boys, did not +conceal her satisfaction at the approaching release--but Mabel spent +Christmas at Peltry; and the hunting was a serious matter. + +The worst of her troubles was over when they were at Victoria. +Lancelot immediately became one of a herd. And so did she: one of a +herd of hens at the pond's edge. Business was business. Lancelot +remained kind to her, but he was inflexible. This was no place for +tears. He even deprecated the last hug, the lingering of the last +kiss. He leaned nonchalantly at the window, he kept his eye on her; +she dared not have a tear. The train moved; he lifted one hand. "So +long," he said, and turned to his high affairs. She was almost aghast +to realise how very small, how very pale, how atomy he looked--to +confront a howling world! And so to listen to the comfortable words +of Mrs. Furnivall-Briggs. "My dear, they've no use for us. The utmost +we can do is to see that they have good food. And warm socks. I am +untiring about warm socks. That is what I am always girding my +committee about. I tell the Vicar, 'My dear sir, I will give you their +souls, if you leave me their soles.' Do you see? He is so much amused. +But he is a very human person. Except at the altar. _There_ he's every +inch the priest. Well, good-bye. I thought Lancelot looked delightful. +He's taller than my Geoff. But I must fly. I have a meeting of workers +at four-fifteen. Bless me, I had no idea it was four o'clock. The +parish-room, Alphonse." A Spartan mother. + +Lucy paid two calls, on people who were out, and indulged herself with +shopping in Sloane Street. Lancelot had recently remarked on her +gloves. "You have jolly thin hands," he had said. "It's having good +gloves, I expect." The memory of such delightful sayings encouraged +her to be extravagant. She thought that perhaps he would find her +ankles worth a moment--if she took pains with them. Anyhow, he was +worth dressing for. James never noticed anything--or if he did, his +ambiguity was two-edged. "Extraordinary hat," he might say, and drop +his eyeglass, which always gave an air of finality to comments of the +sort. But her shopping done, for Lancelot's sake, life stretched +before her a grey waste. She went back to tea, to a novel, to a weekly +paper full of photographs of other people's houses, dogs, children and +motor-cars. It was dark, she was bored as well as child-sick, +dissatisfied with herself as well as heart-hungry. She must get +herself something to do, she said. Who was the Vicar of Onslow Square? +She didn't know. Somehow, religion, to her, had always seemed such a +very private affair. Not a soul must be near her when she said her +prayers--except Lancelot, of course. When he was at home she always +said them while he said his. Last night--ah, she had not been able to +say anything last night. All her faculties had been bent to watching +him at it. Was it bravery in him--or insensibility? She remembered Mr. +Urquhart had talked about it. "All boys are born stoics," he said, +"and all girls Epicureans. That's the instinct. They change places +when they grow up." Was James an Epicurean? + +It was six o'clock. They would be at their meeting in James's room. +Surely they wouldn't want tea? Apparently Crewdson thought that they +might, otherwise--well, she would leave it to Crewdson. James never +seemed to care for anything done by anybody except Crewdson. Sometimes +he seemed to resent it. "Have we no servants then?" the eyeglass +seemed to inquire. She wondered if James knew for how much his +eyeglass was answerable. How could one like to be kissed, with that +glaring disk coming nearer and nearer? And if it dropped just at the +moment--well, it seemed simply to change all one's feelings. Oh, to +have her arms round Lancelot's salient young body, and hear him +murmur, "Oh, I say!" as she kissed his neck!... + +At this moment, being very near to tears, the light was switched off. +She seemed to be drowning in dark. That was a favourite trick of +Lancelot's, who had no business, as a matter of fact, in his father's +room. It gave her a moment of tender joy, and for another she played +with the thought of him, tiptoeing towards her. Suddenly, all in the +dark, she felt a man's arms about her, and a man's lips upon hers. To +wild alarm succeeded warm gratitude. Lucy sobbed ever so lightly; her +head fell back before the ardent advance; her eyes closed. With +parted lips she drank deep of a new consolation: her heart drummed a +tune to which, as it seemed, her wings throbbed the answer. The kiss +was a long one--perhaps a full thirty seconds--but she was released +all too soon. He left her as he had come, on silent feet. The light +was turned up; everything looked as it had been, but everything was +not. She was not. She found herself an Ariadne, in a drawing-room, +still lax from Theseus' arms. Yes, but Theseus was next door, and +would come back to her. + +To say that she was touched is to say little. She was more elated than +touched, and more interested than either. How utterly romantic, how +perfectly sweet, how thoughtful, how ardent of James! James, of all +people in the world! Her husband, of course: but who knew better than +she what that office had implied--and who less than she what it must +have hidden? Really, was it true? Could it be true? + +For some time she sat luxurious where she had been left, gloating (the +word is fairly used) over this new treasure. But then she jumped up +and looked at herself in the glass, curiously, quizzingly, and even +perhaps shamefaced. Next she laughed, richly and from a full heart. +"My dear girl, it's not hard to see what has happened to you. You've +been--" Not even in her thoughts did she care to end the sentence. But +those shining dark eyes, that air of floating, of winged feet--"Ha, my +dear, upon my word! At thirty-one, my child. Really, it becomes you +uncommonly." + +She found herself now walking swiftly up and down the room, clasping +and unclasping her hands. To think that James--the last man in the +world--had kept this up his coat-sleeve for years--and at last--! And +how like the dear thing to turn the light out! To save his own face, +of course, for he must have known, even _he_ must have known, that +_she_ wouldn't have cared. She would have liked the light--to see his +eyes! There had been no eyeglass this time, anyhow. But that was it. +That was a man's romance. In _Cupid and Psyche_, it had been Psyche +who had wanted to know, to see. Women were like that. Such realists. +And, as Psyche was, they were always sorry for it afterwards. Well, +bless him, he should love her in the dark, or how he pleased. + +She stopped again--again in front of the glass. What had he seen--what +new thing had he seen to make him--want to kiss her like that? +Was she pretty? She supposed that she really was. She fingered the +crinkled whiteness at her neck; touched herself here and there; turned +her head sideways, and patted her hair, lifting her chin. Now, was +there anything she could put on--something she could put in--for +dinner? Her thoughts were now turned to serious matters--this and that +possibility flashed across her mind. They were serious matters, +because James had made them so by his most extraordinary, most +romantic, most beautiful action. Then she stretched out her hands, the +palms upward, and sighed out her heart. "Oh, what a load is lightened. +Oh, days to come!" + +Voices in the conservatory suddenly made her heart beat violently. He +was coming! She heard James say--oh, the rogue!--"Yes, it's rather +nice. We put it up directly we came. Lucy's idea. Mind the little step +at the door, though." Urquhart, Francis Lingen were in the +room--Francis' topknot stood up like a bottle-brush. Then came the +hero of the evening, James, the unknown Eros. She beamed into the +shining disk. Sweet old spyglass, she would never abuse it again. All +the same, he had pocketed it for the occasion the last time he had +been in the room! + +Urquhart refused tea. "Tea at seven o'clock at night!" All her eyes +were for James, who had sought her in love and given her heart again. +The eyeglass expressed its horror of tea at seven o'clock. "God +forbid," said James, dear, ridiculous creature. + +Mr. Urquhart talked at once of Lancelot. "Well, he's off with all the +rest of them. They love it, you know. It's movement--it's towards the +unknown, the not impossible--the 'anything might turn up at any +minute.' Now, we don't feel so sure about the minutes, do we?" + +Oh, don't we though? She laughed and tilted her chin. "We feel, +anyhow, for _their_ minutes, bless them," she said, and Urquhart +looked at her with narrowed eyes. + +"'He for God only, she for God in him,'" he said. He added, "I like +that boy of yours. I think he understands me"--and pleased her. + +There were a few minutes' desultory talk, in the course of which Lucy +gravitated towards James, and finally put her hand in his arm. You +should have seen the effect of this simple caress upon the eyeglass. +Like a wounded snake it lifted its head to ask, "Who has struck me?" +It wavered and wagged. But Lucy was glass-proof now. + +Urquhart said that he was going away shortly, at least he supposed he +should. A man he knew wanted to try a new motor. They were to rush +down to Biarritz, and possibly over the frontier to Pampluna. But +nothing was arranged. Here he looked scrutinising and half quizzical +at her. "Are you adventurously inclined? Will you try my monster? It's +a dragon." + +She was very adventurously inclined--as James might know! but not with +a Mr. Urquhart necessarily: therefore she hesitated. "Oh, I don't +really know--" Urquhart laughed. "Be bold--be bold--be not too bold. +Well, there it is. I start for the Newmarket road at eleven +to-morrow--but I'll fetch you for twopence. Ask _him_." He jerked his +head forward towards James, on whose arm her hand rested. Lucy looked +up at her romantic lord--a look which might have made a man proud. But +James may have been proud enough already. At any rate, he didn't see +her look, but was genial to Urquhart--over whom he considered that he +had triumphed in the library. + +"Sooner her than me," he said. "I know that she likes it and so advise +her to go. But I should die a thousand deaths." + +"She won't," said Urquhart; and then to Lucy, "Well, ma'am?" + +Her eyes assented before she did. "Very well, I'll come. I dare say it +will be delightful." + +"Oh, it will," he said. + +Still he rambled on--plain, grumbling, easy, familiar talk, while Lucy +fumed and fidgeted to be alone with her joy and pride. "Your handsome +sister has asked me to hunt in Essex. Don't like hunting, but I do +like her--and there's a great deal waiting to be done at Martley. I +don't know. We'll talk about it to-morrow." Then he asked her, "Would +she come and look at Martley?" It seemed she had half promised. + +She said, "Oh, yes, of course." Nothing of that kind seemed very +important. But James here looked down at her, which made it different. +"We might go at Whitsuntide," he said. + +She looked deeply up--deeply into him, so to speak. "Very well, we +will. If you'll come." + +"Oh, he'll come," Urquhart said; and James, "I should like it." So +that was settled. Heavens, how she wished these people would go. She +could see that Francis Lingen wanted to be asked to stay to dine, but +she didn't mean to have that. So when Urquhart held out his hand with +a blunt "Good night to you," she let hers hover about Francis as if +his was waiting for it--which it wasn't, but had to be. "Oh, good +night," said the embarrassed exquisite, and forgot to be tender. + +James picked up the evening paper and was flickering his eye over the +leading articles, like a searchlight. Lucy, for her part, hovered +quick-footed in his neighbourhood. This was her hour of triumph, and +she played with it. She peeped at the paper over his shoulder till he +said, "Please," and moved it. Her fingers itched to touch his hair, +but very prudently refrained. She was too restless to settle to +anything, and too happy to wish it. If she had been a singing-bird she +would have trilled to the piano; but she had not a note of music. The +dressing-gong gave her direction. There was plenty to be done. "The +gong! I'm going to make myself smart, James. Quite smart. Are you +coming up?" + +James had the paper open in the middle. "Eh? Oh, there's lots of +time--run away. I'm rather busy." + +"You're not a bit busy. But I'll go." And she went with hardly a +perceptible hang-back at the door. Upstairs she rejected her usual +choice with a curled lip. "No, no, too stuffy." "Oh, Smithers, I +couldn't. It makes me look a hundred." No doubt she was absurd; but +she had been starved. Such a thing as this had not happened to her +since her days of betrothal, and then but seldom. When she had +satisfied herself she had a panic. Suppose he said, "Comic Opera!" + +He said nothing at all. He was in a thoughtful mood, and talked mostly +of Urquhart's proposal for Whitsuntide. "I believe it's rather +remarkable. Quite a place to be seen. Jimmy does things well, you +know. He's really a rich man." + +"As rich as you?" Lucy asked, not at all interested in Urquhart just +now. + +The eyeglass was pained. "My dear soul! You don't know what you're +saying!" She quizzed him with a saucy look. "I didn't say anything, +dear. I asked something." + +If eyeglasses shiver, so did James's. "Well, well--you quibble. I dare +say Urquhart has fifteen thousand a year, and even you will know that +I haven't half as much." + +She quenched her eyes, and looked meek. "No, dear, I know. All right, +he's quite rich. Now what does he do with it?" + +"Do with it?" James tilted his head and scratched his neck vigorously, +but not elegantly. "Very often nothing at all. There will be years +when he won't spend a hundred above his running expenses. Then he'll +get a kind of maggot in the brain, and squander every sixpence he can +lay hands on. Or he may see reason good, and drop ten thousand in a +lap like Lingen's. Why does he do it? God knows, Who made him. He's +made like that." + +Lucy said it was very interesting, but only because she thought James +would be pleased. + +Then she remembered, with a pang of doubt, that she was to be driven +by this wild man to-morrow. But James--would he--? He had never been +really jealous, and just now she didn't suppose he could possibly be +so; but you can't tell with men. So she said, "James dear," very +softly, and he looked over the table at her. "If you don't think +it--sensible, I could easily telephone." + +"Eh? What about?--to whom?--how? I don't follow you." + +"I mean to Mr. Urquhart, about his motor to-morrow. I don't care about +it in the least. In fact--" + +"Oh," said James, "the motor? Ah, I had forgotten. Oh, I think you +might go. Urquhart's been very reasonable about this business of +Lingen's. I had a little trouble, of course--it's a lot of money, even +for him. Oh, yes, I should go if I were you. Why, he might want _me_ +to go, you know--which would bore me to extinction. But I know you +like that sort of thing." He nodded at her. "Yes, I should go." + +She pouted, and showed storm in her eyes--all for his benefit. But he +declined benefit. A strange, dear, bleak soul. + +"Very well. If it saves you anything, I'll do it," she said. James was +gratified; as he was also by the peeling of walnuts and service of +them in a sherry glass, which she briskly performed, as if she liked +it. Further than that she was too shy to go; but in the drawing-room, +before it might be too late, she was unable to forbear her new +tenderness. + +She stood behind him; her hand fell upon his shoulder, and rested +there, like a leaf. He could not but be conscious of it--he was very +conscious of it, and accepted it, as a tribute. Such a tribute was +gratifying. Lucy was a charming woman. She did pretty things in a +pretty way, as a man's wife should, but too seldom did. How many men's +wives--after fourteen years of it--would stand as she was standing +now? No--the luck held. He had a tradition of Success--success without +visible effort. The luck held! Like a steady wind, filling a sail. + +Discipline, however; gentle but firm! He went on reading, but said, +most kindly, "Well, Luce, well--" adding, on an afterthought, "How can +I serve you?" + +Her eyes were luminous, dilating her gentle mood, downcast towards his +smooth black hair. She sighed, "Serve me? Oh, you serve me well. I'm +happy just now--that's all." + +"Not fretting after the boy?" + +"No, no. Not now. Bless him, all the same." + +"To be sure." Whereon, at a closer touch of her hand, he looked +comically up. Her head moved, ever so slightly, towards him. He +dropped his eyeglass with a smart click and kissed her cheek. She +shivered, and started back. A blank dismay fell upon her; her heart +seemed to stop. Good Heavens! Not so, not at all so, had James kissed +her in the dark. + +There wasn't a doubt about that--not the shade of a doubt. Here had +been a brush on the cheek; here the cold point of his nose had pecked +a little above. She had felt that distinctly, more distinctly than the +touch of his lips. Whereas that other, that full-charged message of +hope and promise--oh, that had been put upon her mouth, soft and +close, and long. She recalled how her head had fallen back and back, +how her laden heart had sighed, how she had been touched, comforted, +contented. Good God, how strange men were! How entirely outside her +philosophy! + +She strayed about her drawing-room, touching things here and there, +while he complacently fingered his _Punch_, flacking over the +leaves with brisk slaps of the hand. At this moment he was as +comfortably-minded a householder as any in London, engaged solely in +digestion, at peace at home and abroad, so unconscious of the +fretting, straining, passionate lost soul in the room with him, +hovering, flicking about it like a white moth, as to be supremely +ridiculous--to any one but Lucy. It is difficult to hit off her state +of mind in a word, or in two. She was fretted; yes, but she was +provoked too. She was provoked, but she was incredulous. It could not +continue; it was too much. Men were not made so. And yet--and +yet--James was a possible Eros, an Eros (bless him!) with an eyeglass: +and Eros loved in the dark. + +She comforted herself with this thought, which seemed to her a bright +solution of the puzzle, and saw James rise and stretch his length +without mutiny. She received the taps on the cheek of his rolled +_Punch_, allowed, nay, procured, another chilly peck, with no pouting +lips, no reproachful eyes. Then came a jar, and her puzzlement +renewed. "Shall you be late?" "Oh, my dear soul, how can I possibly +say? I brought papers home with me--and you know what that means! It's +an interesting case. We have Merridew for us. I am settling the +brief." Alas, for her. The infatuate even stayed to detail points of +the cause. Much, it appeared, depended upon the Chancellor of the +diocese: a very shaky witness. He had a passion for qualification, and +might tie himself into as many knots as an eel on a night-line. Oh, +might he indeed? And this, this was in the scales against her pride +and joy! She was left--alone on Naxos now--while James went sharply +to his papers. + +There I must leave her, till the hour when she could bear the room no +more. She had fought with beasts there, and had prevailed. Yet +unreason (as she had made herself call it) lifted a bruised head at +the last. Papers! Papers, after such a kiss! Oh, the folly of the +wise! Caught up she knew not whence, harboured in the mind she knew +not how, the bitter words of an old Scots song tasted salt upon her +lips: + + There dwelt a man into the West, + And O gin he was cruel; + For on his bridal night at e'en + He up and grat for gruel. + + They brought him in a gude sheepshead, + A bason and a towel. + "Gar take thae whimwhams far frae me, + I winna want my gruel!" + +Standing in the hall while these words were ringing in her head, she +stayed after they were done, a rueful figure of indecision. Instinct +fought instinct, and the acquired beat down the innate. She regarded +the shut door, with wise and tender eyes, without reproach; then bent +her head and went swiftly upstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A LEAP OUTWARDS + + +She arose, a disillusioned bride, with scarcely spirit enough to cling +to hope, and with less taste for Urquhart's motor than she had ever +had for any duller task-work. Nothing in the house tended to her +comfort. James was preoccupied and speechless; the coffee was wrong, +the letters late and stupid. She felt herself at cross-purposes with +her foolish little world. If James had resought her love overnight, it +had been a passing whim. She told herself that love so desired was +almost an insult. + +Nevertheless at eleven o'clock the motor was there, and Urquhart in +the hall held out his hand. "She can sprint," he said; "so much I've +learned already. I think you'll be amused." + +Lucy hoped so. She owned herself very dull that morning. Well, said +Urquhart, he could promise her that she should not be that. She might +cry for mercy, he told her, or stifle screams; but she wouldn't stifle +yawns. "Macartney," he said, "would sooner see himself led out by a +firing-party than in such an engine as I have out there." She smiled +at her memory. "James is not of the adventurous," she said--but wasn't +he? "Shall I be cold?" + +"Put on everything you have," he bade her, "and then everything else. +She can do sixty." + +"You are trying to terrify me," she said, "but you won't succeed. I +don't know why, but I feel that you can drive. I think I have caught +Lancelot's complaint." + +"Perhaps so. I know that I impose upon the young and insipient." + +"And which am I, pray?" + +He looked at her. "Don't try me too far." + +She came forth finally to see Crewdson and her own chauffeur grouped +with Urquhart. The bonnet was open; shining coils, mighty cylinders +were in view, and a great copper feed-pipe like a burnished +boa-constrictor. The chauffeur, a beady-eyed Swiss, stared approval; +Crewdson, rubbing his chin, offered a deft blend of the deferential +butler and the wary man of the world. She was tucked in; the Swiss +started the monster; they were off with a bound. + +They slashed along Knightsbridge, won Piccadilly Circus by a series +of short rushes; avoided the City, and further East found a broad road +and slow traffic. Soon they were in the semi-urban fringe, among villa +gardens, over-glazed public-houses, pollarded trees and country +glimpses in between. There was floating ice on the ponds, a violet +rime traversed with dun wheelmarks in the shady parts of the way. +After that a smooth white road, deep green fields, much frozen water, +ducks looking strangely yellow, and the low blue hills of Essex. + +Urquhart was a sensitive driver; she noticed that. The farseeing eye +was instantly known in the controlling foot. He used very little +brake; when he pushed his car there was no mark upon him of urgency. +Success without effort! The Gospel of James! Urquhart accepted it as a +commonplace, and sought his gospel elsewhere. + +He began to talk without any palpable beginning, and drifted into +reminiscence. "I remember being run away with by a mule train in +Ronda ... the first I had ever handled. They got out of hand--it was a +nasty gorge with a bend in it where you turn on to the bridge. I got +round that with a well-directed stone which caught the off-side leader +exactly at the root of his wicked ear. He had only one ear, so you +couldn't mistake it. He ducked his head and up with his heels. He went +over, and the next pair on top of him. We pulled up, not much the +worse. Well, the point of that story is that the pace of that old +coach and six mokes, I assure you, has always seemed to me faster than +any motor I've ever driven. It was nothing to be compared with it, of +course; but the effort of those six mad animals, the _elan_ of the +thing, the rumbling and swaying about, heeling over that infernal +gorge of stone--! You can't conceive the whirl and rush of it. Now +we're doing fifty, yet you don't know it. Wind-screen: yes, that's +very much; but the concealment of effort is more." + +"You've had a life of adventure," she said. "Lancelot may have been +right." + +"He wasn't far wrong," Urquhart said. "As a fact, I have never been a +pirate; but I have smuggled tobacco in the Black Sea, and that's as +near as you need go. I excuse myself by saying that it was a long time +ago--twenty years I dare say; that I was young at the time; that I was +very hard up, and that I liked the fun. Lovely country, you know, that +strip of shore. You never saw such oleanders in your life. And sand +like crumbled crystal. We used to land the stuff at midnight, up to +our armpits in water sometimes; and a man would stand up afterwards +shining with phosphorus, like a golden statue. Romantic! No poet could +relate it. They used to cross and recross in the starlight--all the +gleaming figures. Like a ballet done for a Sultan in the Arabian +Nights. I was at that for a couple of years, and then the gunboats got +too sharp for us and the game didn't pay." + +She had forgotten her spleen. Her eyes were wide at the enlarging +landscape. "And what did you do next--or what had you done before? +Tell me anything." + +"I really don't know what I did before. I went out to the Chersonese +from Naples. I remember that well. I had been knocking about Vesuvius +for a bit, keeping very bad company, which, nevertheless, behaved very +well to me. But finally there was a row with knives, which rather +sickened me of the Vesuvians; so I shipped for Constantinople and fell +in with a very nice old chap on board. He took me on at his contraband +job. I didn't get very much money, but I got some, and saw a deal of +life. When it was over I went to Greece. I like the Greeks. They are +a fine people." + +"What did you do in Greece?" she insisted, not interested in the +fineness of the people. + +"Blasting, first," he said. "They were making the railway from Larissa +through Tempe. That was a dangerous job, because the rock breaks so +queerly. You never know when it has finished. I had seen a good deal +of it in South America, so I butted in, and was taken on. Then I did +some mining at Lavrion, and captained a steamer that carried mails +among the islands. That was the best time I had. You see, I like +responsibility, and I got it. Everything else was tame--out there, I +mean.... + +"I got into Government service at Corfu and stopped there six years or +more ... I was all sorts of things--lighthouse-keeper, inspector of +marine works, harbour-master ... And then my wicked old father (I must +tell you about him some day. You could write a book about him) up and +died--in his bed of all places in the world, and left me a good deal +of money. That was the ruin of me. I really might have done something +if it hadn't been for that. Strange thing! He turned me out of the +house in a rage one day, and had neither seen me nor written me a +letter from my seventeenth to my thirtieth birthday, when he died--or +thereabouts. But at the last, when he was on his bed of death, he +rolled himself over and said to the priest, 'There's Jimmy out at his +devilry among the haythen Turks,' he says. 'Begob, that was a fine +boy, and I'll leave him a plum.' And so he did. I wish he hadn't. I +was making my hundred and fifty in Corfu and was the richest man in +the place. And I liked the life." + +"That was where you had so many wives," she reminded him. + +"So it was. Well, perhaps I needn't assure you that the number has +been exaggerated. I've very nearly had some wives, but there was +always something at the last minute. There was a girl at Valletta, I +remember--a splendid girl with the figure of a young Venus, and a +tragic face and great eyes that seemed to drown you in dark. Lady +Macbeth as a child might have been like that--or Antigone with the +doom on her, or perhaps Elektra. No, I expect Elektra took after her +mother: red-haired girl, I fancy. But there you are. She was a lovely, +solemn, deep-eyed, hag-ridden goose. Not a word to say--thought +mostly of pudding. I found that out by supposing that she thought of +me. Then I was piqued, and we parted. I suppose she's vast now, and +glued to an upper window-ledge with her great eyes peering through a +slat in the shutter. Living in a bed-gown. Imagine a wife who lives in +a bed-gown!" + +They were lunching at Colchester when these amorous chapters were +reached. Lucy was quite at her ease with her companion. "A wife who +was always at the dressmaker's would suit you no better. But I don't +know that mixed marriages often answer. After all, so dreadfully much +can never be opened between you." + +"That's quite true," he said, "and by no means only of mixed +marriages. How much can your average husband and wife open between +them? Practically nothing, since they choose to live by speech." + +"But what else have we?" + +"I would choose to live by touch," he said. "If two people can't +communicate fully and sufficiently by the feelers they are not in the +same sphere and have no common language. But speech is absurd. Why, +every phrase, and nearly every word, has a conventional value." + +By touch! She was set dreaming by that. So she and James--a James she +had had no conception of--had communicated not four-and-twenty hours +ago. Certainly subsequent speech had not advanced the intelligence +then conveyed. + +But she resumed Urquhart's affairs. "And do you despair of finding a +woman with whom you can hold communion?" + +"No," he said, looking at the bread which he broke. "I don't despair +at all. I think that I shall find her." And then he looked steadily at +her, and she felt a little uncomfortable. But it was over in a minute. + +She feared to provoke that again, so made no fishing comment; but she +was abundantly curious of what his choice would be. Meantime he mused +aloud. + +"What you want for a successful marriage is--a layer of esteem, +without which you will infallibly, if you are a man, over-reach +yourself and be disgusted; then a liberal layer of animal +passion--and I only shrink from a stronger word for fear of being +misunderstood--which you won't have unless you have (a) vitality, (b) +imagination; thirdly, for a crown, respect. You must know your due, +and your duty, and fear to omit the one or excuse the other. +Everything follows from those three." + +"And how do you know when you have found them?" + +He looked up and out into the country. "A sudden glory," he said, "a +flare of insight. There's no mistake possible." + +"Who was the man," she asked him, rather mischievously, "who saw a +girl at a ball, and said, 'That's a fine girl; I'll marry her'--and +did it--and was miserable?" + +He twinkled as he answered, "That was Savage Landor; but it was his +own fault. He could never make concessions." She thought him a very +interesting companion. + +On the way home he talked more fitfully, with intervals of brooding +silence. But he was not morose in his fits, and when he excused +himself for sulking, she warmly denied that he did any such thing. "I +expect you are studying the motor," she said; and he laughed. "I'm +very capable of that." + +Altogether, a successful day. She returned braced to her duties, her +James, and his hidden-up Eros. To go home to James had become an +exciting thing to do. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +PATIENCE AND PSYCHE + + +There are two ways of encountering an anti-climax, an heroic, an +unheroic. Lucy did her best to be a heroine, but her temperament was +against her. Her imagination was very easily kindled, and her reasons +much at the mercy of the flames. By how much she was exalted, by so +much was she dashed. But she had a conscience too, a lively one with a +forefinger mainly in evidence. It would be tedious to recount how +often that wagged her into acquiescence with a James suddenly revealed +freakish, and how often she relapsed into the despair of one sharply +rebuffed when she found him sedately himself. However, or by means of +her qualities, the time-cure worked its way; her inflammation wore +itself out, and her life resumed its routine of dinner-parties, calls +and callers, Francis Lingen's purring, and letters to or from +Lancelot--with this difference, mind you, that far recessed in her +mind there lay a grain, a grain of promise: that and a glamorous +memory. + +She was able to write her first letter to Lancelot in high spirits, +then, to tell him her little bits of news and to remind him (really to +remind herself) of good days in the past holiday-time. Something she +may have said, or left unsaid, as the chance may be, drew the +following reply. She always wrote to him on Friday, so that he might +answer her on Sunday. + +"Dear Mama," he wrote, "I was third in weakly order which was rather +good (I.d.t.)*. Mr. Tonks said if I go up so fast I shall brake the +ceialing. Bad spelling I know but still. Last Wendesday a boy named +Jenkinson swalowed a button-hook but recovered it practically as good +as when bought (or perhaps a Xmas present). He was always called +Bolter for a nickname, so it was jolly convene. For once he did the +right thing. Mostly he is an utter ass. How is the polligamous pirate +getting on with wives &c.? That comes from a Greek word polis, +a city, so I suppose in the country they are too conventual. I like +him awfully. He's my sort (not Father's though). Well, the term is +waring away. Five days crost off on new diery. Where shall we go this +time three months? Easter I mean. Wycross I hope, but suppose dreery +Brighton, hope not. I must swot now Kings of Isereel and such-like so +goodby now or so long as we say here--LANCELOT." + +She thought that she must show the letter to Urquhart when next she +saw him, and meantime, of course, showed it to James. The eyeglass +grew abhorrent over the spelling. "This boy passes belief. Look at +this, Lucy. C-e-i-a-ling!" "Oh, don't you see?" she cried. "He had it +perfectly: c-e-i. Well, and then a devil of doubt came in, and he +tried an _a_. Oh, I can see it now, on his blotting-pad! Whichever he +decided on, he must have forgotten to cross out the other. You +shouldn't be so hard on your own son. His first letter too." + +James felt compunction. "No, no, I won't be hard. It's all right, of +course." He read on. The polligamous pirate with wives &c. had to be +explained. She told him the story. The eyeglass became a searchlight +exploring her. + +"Did Urquhart tell that tale? Upon my soul--!" + +"It was sheer nonsense, of course, but--" + +"Oh, I don't know," said James. "You can't tell with a man of that +sort. He can be a March hare if he's in the mood. He'd as soon shoot a +Turk as a monkey, or keep two women as half a dozen. By the by, Lucy," +and the eyeglass went out like a falling star, "don't let that +sentimental idiot make too much of an ass of himself." + +Lucy's eyes concentrated; they shone. "Who is your sentimental idiot? +I haven't the least notion what you mean." + +"I mean Francis Lingen, of course. You must admit-- Oh," and he nipped +her indignation in the bud, "I know you won't misunderstand me. I am +not at all a fool. You are kindness itself, generosity itself. But +there it is. He's an ass, and there's really nothing more to say." + +Lucy was mollified. She was, indeed, amused after the first flash. +Remembering the James of a week ago, the eager wooer of the dark, she +was able to be playful with a little jealousy. But if he could have +known--or if she had cared to tell him--what she had been thinking of +on Sunday afternoon when Francis purred to her about himself and +sought her advice how best to use his ten thousand of Urquhart's +pounds--well, James would have understood, that's all! + +So she laughed. "Poor Francis Lingen! He is not very wise. But I must +say that your honour is perfectly safe with me." + +"My dear child--" said James, frowning. + +"No, no, I shall go on. It will do you good. There is one thing you +may always be quite sure of, dear, and that is that the more Francis +Lingen is a goose, the less likely I am to encourage him in goosery, +if there is such a word." + +James pished, but she pursued him. Mabel was announced, up from the +country to dine and sleep. The Parthian shot was delivered actually on +the way to Mabel's embrace. "But I'm flattered to see you +jealous--please understand that. I should like you to be jealous of +the chair I sit on." + +James was hurt and uncomfortable. He thought all this rank form. And +Mabel--the bright and incisive Mabel with her high hunting +colour--made it much worse. "What! Is James jealous? Oh, how perfectly +splendid! Is he going to give secret orders to Crewdson not to admit +Mr.--? As they do in plays at the St. James's? Oh, James, do tell me +whom you darkly suspect? Caesar's wife! My dear and injured man--" +James writhed, but he was in the trap. You may be too trenchant, it +would seem, and your cleaver stick fast in the block. + +It behooved him to take a strong line. This kind of raillery must be +stopped. He must steer between the serious and the flippant. He hated +to be pert; on the other hand, to be solemn would be offensive to +Lucy--which he would not be. For James was a gentleman. "Mabel, my +dear, you stretch the privileges of a guest--" a promising beginning, +he thought; but Lucy pitied him plunging there, and cut all short by a +way of her own. "Oh, Mabel, you are a goose. Come and take your things +off, and tell me all about Peltry, and the hunting, and the new horse. +Mr. Urquhart told me he was going to stay with you. Is he? I'm so glad +you like him. Lancelot and I highly approve. I must show you +Lancelot's letter about him. He calls him the polligamous pirate--with +two _l_'s of course." + +"Yes," said James, who had recovered his composure, "yes, my dear; but +he gives you the accent in polis." + +"Does he though? I'm afraid that was beyond me." She paused to beam +at James. "That pleases you?" + +"It's a sign of grace, certainly." So the squall blew over. + +James was dining out somewhere, so the sisters had a short dinner and +a very long evening by the fire. Lucy dallied with her great news +until Crewdson had served the coffee--then out it came, with +inordinate and delightful delicacy of approach. Mabel's eyes +throughout were fixed upon her face.... "And of course, naturally--" +Here Lucy turned away her own. "But nothing--not a sign. Neither then +nor since. I--"; she stopped, bit her lip, then broke forth. "I shall +never understand it. Oh, I do think it extraordinary!" + +Mabel said at once, "It's not at all extraordinary. It would be with +any one else; but not with James." + +Lucy lifted her head. "What do you mean, Mabel?" + +"Well, it's difficult to explain. You are so odd about James. He is +either the sort of being you name in a whisper--or makes you edgy all +over--like a slate-pencil. But James--I dare say you haven't noticed +it: you think he's a clever man, and so he may be; but really he has +never grown up." + +Lucy's foot began to rock. "My dear girl, really--" + +"Oh, I know. I know. Of course you're annoyed, especially after such a +queer experience. We won't discuss it--it will be useless. But that's +my opinion, you know. I think that he was completely successful, +according to his own ideas." The battle raged; I need not add that the +mystery, far from being undiscussed, was driven up and down the field +of possibility till a late hour; nor that Mabel held to her position, +in high disparagement, as Lucy felt, of Lancelot, deeply involved. + +An upshot, and a shrewd one, was Mabel's abrupt, "Well, what are you +going to do now? I mean, supposing he does it again?" + +Lucy mused. "I don't somehow think he will, for a long time." She +added naively, "I wish he would. I like it." + +Mabel understood her. "You mean that you like him for doing it." And +dreamy Lucy nodded. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. I do, awfully." + +Mabel here kissed Lucy. "Dearest, you're wonderfully sweet. You would +love anybody who loved you." + +"I don't think I would," Lucy said, "but I should certainly have loved +James more if he had ever seemed to love me. And I can't possibly +doubt that he did that day that Lancelot went back. What bothers me is +that he stopped there." And so, to it again, in the manner of women, +tireless in speculation about what is not to be understood. + +James, restored in tone, was affable, and even considerate, in the +morning. Mabel, studying him with new eyes, had to admire his flawless +surface, though her conviction of the shallow depth of him was +firmlier rooted than before. "He is--he really is--a tremendous +donkey, poor James," she thought to herself as he gave out playful +sarcasms at her expense, and was incisive without loss of urbanity. +Mabel was urgent with her sister to join the party at Peltry when +Urquhart was there. "I do wish you would. He's rather afraid of you, I +think, and that will throw him upon me--which is what is wanted." That +was how she put it. + +James, quite the secure, backed her up. "I should go if I were you," +he said to Lucy from behind the _Morning Post_. "It will do you a +great deal of good. You always choose February to moult in, and you +will have to be feathered down there. Besides, it's evident you can be +useful to Mabel." Lucy went so far as to get out her engagement book, +and to turn up the date, not very seriously. What she found confirmed +her. "I can't," she said; "it's out of the question." + +"Why, what is happening?" Mabel must know. + +"It's an Opera night," said Lucy. "The _Walkuere_ is happening." + +"Oh, are they? H'm. Yes, I suppose I can't expect you." + +Lucy was scornfully clear. "I should think not indeed. Not for a +wilderness of Urquharts!" + +"Not all the peltry of Siberia--" said James, rather sharply, as he +thought; and dismissed the subject in favour of his own neatly-spatted +foot. "Wagner!" he said. "I am free to confess that, apart from the +glory of the thing, I had rather--" + +"Marry one of Mr. Urquhart's wives," said the hardy Mabel. + +"Two," said James, quite ready for her. + +Mabel rattled away to her Essex and left her sister all the better for +the astringent she had imparted. Lucy did not agree with her by any +means; it made her hot with annoyance to realise that anybody could so +think of James. At the same time she felt that she must steady +herself. After all, a man might kiss his wife if he pleased, and he +might do it how he pleased. It was undignified to speculate about it. +She tried very hard to drive that home to herself, and she did succeed +in imposing it upon her conduct. But she was not convinced. She was +too deeply romantic for conviction by any such specious reasoning. +That affair in the dark had been the real thing; it implied--oh, +everything. Let come what might, let be what was, that was the true +truth of the mystery. And to be loved like that was--oh, everything! + +But she dismissed it from her thoughts with an effort of will, and +relations with James resumed their old position. They became formal, +they were tinged now and again with the old asperity; they were rather +dreary. Lancelot's star rose as James's sank in the heavens. His +letters became her chief preoccupation. But James's star, fallen low +though it were, still showed a faint hue of rose-colour. + +Some little time after this--somewhere in early February, she met +Urquhart at a luncheon party, and was glad to see him. He shook hands +in his usual detached way, as if her gladness and their acquaintance +were matters of course. He sat next to her without ceremony, removing +another man's name-card for the purpose, and after a few short, +snapped phrases about anything or nothing, they drifted into easy +talk. Lucy's simplicity made her a delightful companion, when she was +sure of her footing. She told him that she had been saving up +Lancelot's letter to show him. "Good," he said. "I want it." + +But it was not here, as it happened. So she wrote out from memory the +sentence about Urquhart: the polligamous pirate, with wives &c. +"Aren't you flattered?" she asked him, radiant with mirthful malice. +He frowned approval. He was pleased, but, like all those who make +laughter, he had none of his own. "That shot told. I got him with the +first barrel. Trust a boy to love a law-breaker. He'll never forget me +that. He's my friend for life." He added, as if to himself, "Hope so, +anyhow." + +Lucy at this, had she been a cat, would have purred and kneaded the +carpet. As it was, her contentment emboldened her to flights. She was +much more bird than cat. "I wonder if you are really a law-breaker," +she said. "I don't think I should be surprised to know it of you." + +He frowned again. "No, I should say that the ground had been prepared +for that. You wouldn't be surprised--but would you be disturbed? +That's what I want to know before I tell you." + +This had to be considered. What did she in her private mind think of +law-breakers? One thing was quite clear to her. Whatever she might +think of them, she was not prepared to tell him. + +"I'm a lawyer's wife, you know." + +"That tells me nothing," he said. "That would only give you the +position of an expert. It doesn't commit you to a line. I'll tell you +this--it may encourage you to a similar confidence. If I wanted to +break a law very badly, I shouldn't do it on reflection perhaps; but I +could never resist a sudden impulse. If somebody told me that it would +be desirable in all sorts of ways to break a man's head I shouldn't do +it, because I should be bothering myself with all the possibilities of +the thing--how desirable it might be, or how undesirable. But if, +happening to be in his company, I saw his head in a breakable +aspect--splosh! I should land him a nasty one. That's a certainty. +Now, what should you say to that? It happens that I want to know." It +was evident to her that he really did. + +Lucy gave him one of her kind, compassionate looks, which always made +her seem beautiful, and said, "I should forgive you. I should tell you +that you were too young for your years; but I should forgive you, I'm +sure." + +"That's what I wanted to know," said Urquhart, and remained silent for +a while. When he resumed it was abruptly, on a totally new matter. "I +shall bring my sister over to you after this. She's here. I don't know +whether you'll like her. She'll like you." + +"Where is she?" Lucy asked, rather curious. + +"She's over there, by our hostess. That big black hat is hers. She's +underneath it." Lucy saw a spry, black-haired youngish woman, very +vivacious but what she herself called "good." James would have said, +"Smart." Not at all like her brother, she thought, and said so. "She's +not such a scoundrel," Urquhart admitted, "but she takes a line of +her own. Her husband's name is Nugent. He is South Irish, where we are +North. That boy who went with us to the play is her son. He is a +lively breed--so it hasn't turned out amiss. She's not at all your +sort, but as you know the worst of us you may as well know what we can +do when we exert ourselves." He added, "My old father, now with +Beelzebub, was a terror." + +"Do tell me about him." + +"It would take too long. He was very old-fashioned in most ways. They +used to call him King Urquhart in Donegal. The worst of it was that he +knew good claret and could shoot. That makes a bad combination. He +used to sit on a hogshead of it in his front yard and challenge all +and sundry to mortal combat. He really did. Duels he used to call +them. He said, 'Me honour's involved, d'ye see?' and believed it. But +they were really murders, because he was infallible with a revolver. +He adored my mother, but she couldn't do anything with him. 'Tush, me +dear,' he used to say, 'I wouldn't hurt a hair of his bald head.' And +then he'd have to bolt over to France for a bit and keep quiet. But +everybody liked him, I'm sorry to say. They gave him a public funeral +when he died. They took him out of the hearse--imagine the great sooty +plumes of it--and carried him to the chapel--half a mile away." Lucy +didn't know how much of this to believe, which made it none the worse. + +"He was a Catholic?" + +"He was." + +"And so are you?" + +He looked up. "Eh? I suppose I am--if any." + +"What _do_ you mean?" she insisted. + +"Well," he said. "It's there, I expect. You don't get rid of it." She +considered this to herself. + +Mrs. Nugent--the Honourable Mrs. Nugent, as it afterwards +appeared--made herself very amiable. "We both like boys," she said, +"which makes everything easy. I hope you liked my Pat--you met him, I +know. Yours seems to be an unconscious humourist. Jimmy is always +chuckling over him. Mine takes after the Urquharts; rather grim, but +quite sound when you know them. My husband is really Irish. He might +say 'Begorra' at any minute. The Urquharts are a mixed lot. Jimmy +says we're Eurasians when he's cross with us--which means with +himself. I suppose we were border thieves once, like the Turnbulls and +Pringles. But James I planted us in Ireland, and there have been James +Urquharts ever since. I don't know why that seems satisfactory, but it +does." + +"I saw what Jimmy was saying, you know," she said presently. "He began +upon me, and then slid off to our deplorable father. An inexhaustible +subject to Jimmy, who really admires that kind of thing." + +Lucy smilingly deprecated the criticism. + +"Oh, but he does. If he could be like that, he would be. But he wants +two qualities--he can't laugh, and he can't cry. Father could only +laugh internally. He used to get crimson, and swallow hard. That was +his way. Jimmy can't laugh at all, that's the mischief of it. And +crying too. Father could cry rivers. One of the best things I remember +of him was his crying before Mother. 'Damn it all, Meg, I missed him!' +he said, choking with grief. Mother knew exactly what to say. 'You'll +get him next time, Jimmy. Come and change your stockings now.' Well, +_our_ Jimmy couldn't do that. To begin with, of course, he wouldn't +have 'missed him.'" + +"No," said Lucy, reflecting, "I don't think he would miss--unless he +was in too much of a hurry to hit." + +Mrs. Nugent looked quickly at her. "That is very clever of you. You +have touched on his great difference from Father. He is awfully +impatient." + +All this did Lucy a great deal of good. James thought that she had +better call on Mrs. Nugent. He knew all about her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +AGAIN + + +The second time was in late February, at the Opera: the _Walkuere_, of +all operas in the world, where passion of the suddenest is seen on its +most radiant spring morning. James, who was dreadfully bored by +Wagner, and only went because it was the thing to do, and truly also +because "a man must be seen with his wife," could not promise to be +there, dressed, at such an unearthly hour as half-past six--James, I +say, did not go with her, but vowed to be there "long before seven." +That he undertook. So she went alone, and sat, as she always did, half +hidden behind the curtain of her box on the second tier. + +The place was flooded with dark. The great wonder began--the amazing +prelude with its brooding, its surmisals, its storms, its pounding +hooves remorselessly pursuing, and flashes of the horn, like the blare +of lightning. She surrendered herself, and as the curtain rose settled +down to drink with the eyes as well as with the ears; for she was no +musician, and could only be deeply moved by this when she saw and +heard. It immediately absorbed her; the music "of preparation and +suspense" seemed to turn her bones to liquor--and at this moment she +again felt herself possessed by man's love: the strong hand over her +heart, the passion of his hold, the intoxication of the kiss. To the +accompaniment of shrill and wounded violins she yielded herself to +this miracle of the dark. She seemed to hear in a sharp whisper, "You +darling!" She half turned, she half swooned again, she drank, and she +gave to drink. The music speared up to the heights of bliss, then +subsided as the hold on her relaxed. When she stretched out her hand +for her lover's, he was not near her. She was alone. The swift and +poignant little drama may have lasted a minute; but like a dream it +had the suggestion of infinity about it, transcending time as it +defied place. Confused, bemused, she turned her attention to the +stage, determined to compose herself at all cost. She sat very still, +and shivered; she gave all her powers to her mind, and succeeded by +main effort. Insensibly the great drama doing down there resumed its +hold; and it was even with a slight shock that she became aware by +and by of James sitting sedately by her, with the eyeglass sharply set +for diversion anywhere but on the scene. Again she remembered with +secret amusement that she had not been conscious of the eyeglass +when--for reasons of his own--he had paid his mysterious homage to +love and her. + +She kept a firm grip of herself: she would not move an inch towards +him. She could never do that again. But she passed him over the +play-bill, and lifted the glasses to show him where they were. She +saw the eyeglass dip as he nodded his thanks, and heard him whisper as +he passed back the bill, "No good. Dark as the grave." Oh, +extraordinary James! She suffered hysterical laughter, but persisted +against it, and succeeded. + +When the lights went up she afforded herself a gay welcome of him, +from gleaming, happy and conscious eyes. He met it blandly, smiled +awry and said, "You love it?" + +"Oh," she sighed, meaning all that she dared not say, "how I love it!" + +James said, "Bravo. I was very punctual, you'll admit." That very +nearly overcame her. But all she said was, "I didn't hear you come +in--or go out." + +James looked very vague at that. He was on the point of frowning over +it, but gave it up. It was a Lucyism. He rose and touched his +coat-collar, to feel that it gripped where it should. "Let's see who's +in the house," he said, and searched the boxes. "Royalty, as usual! +That's what I call devotion. Who's that woman in a snow-leopard? Oh, +yes, of course. Hullo. I say, my child, will you excuse me? I've just +seen some people I ought to see. There's lots of time--and I won't be +late." And he was off. A very remarkable lover indeed was James. + +Mrs. Nugent waved her hand across the parterre. Francis Lingen knocked +and entered. She could afford that; and presently a couple added +themselves, young married people whom she liked for their poverty, +hopefulness and unaffected pleasure in each other. She made Lingen +acquainted with them, and talked to young Mr. Pierson. He spoke with a +cheer in his voice. "Ripping opera. Madge adores it. We saw your +husband downstairs, but I don't think he knew us."... And through her +head blew the words like a searching wind: "You darling! You darling!" +Oh, that was great love! Small wonder that James saw nothing of the +Piersons. And yet--ah, she must give up speculating and judging. +That had undone poor Psyche. Young Mr. Pierson chattered away about +Madge and Wagner, both ripping; James returned, bland, positive, +dazzling the man of exclusive clubs; was reminded of young Mrs. +Pierson, with whom he shook hands, of young Mr. Pierson, to whom he +nodded and said "Ha!" and finally of Francis Lingen. "Ha, Lingen, you +here!" Francis shivered. That seemed to him to ring a knell. Since +when had he been Lingen to James. Since this moment. Now why had James +cold-shouldered him? Was it possible that he had noticed too much +devotion?... And if he had, was it not certain that she must have +noticed it? He stopped midway of the stairs, and passers-by may have +thought he was looking for a dropt sixpence. Not at all. The earth +seemed to be heaving beneath his feet. But a wave of courage surged up +through him. Pooh! no woman yet ever disregarded the homage of a man. +He would send some roses to-morrow, without a card. She would +understand. And so it went on. Wagner came back to his own. + +On this occasion, after this second great adventure, Lucy had no +conflict with fate. Thankfully she took the gift of the God; she took +it as final, as a thing complete in itself, a thing most beautiful, +most touching, most honourable to giver and recipient. It revived all +her warmth of feeling, but this time without a bitter lees to the +dram. And she was immensely the better for it. She felt in charity +with all the world, her attitude to James was one of clear sight. Oh, +now she understood him through and through. She would await the +fulness of time; sufficient for the day was the light of the day. + +She was happier than she had been for many years. Half-term was +approaching, when she would be allowed to go down and see Lancelot; in +these days she felt Spring in the air. February can be kind to us, and +show a golden threshold to March. She had a letter from Mabel telling +her of Mr. Urquhart's feats in the hunting field.... "He's quite mad, +I think, and mostly talks about you and Lancelot. He calls you +Proserpine. As for his riding, my dear, it curdles the blood. He +doesn't ride, he drives; sits well back, and accelerates on the near +side. He brought his own horses, luckily for ours and his neck. They +seem to understand it. He hunted every day but one; and then he rushed +up to town to keep some appointment and came back to a very late +dinner, driving himself in his motor. He is a tempestuous person, but +can be very grave when he likes. He talked beautifully one +evening--mostly about you." Lucy's eyes smiled wisely over this +letter. She liked to think that she could induce gravity upon a +hunting party. She had never quite approved of the Peltry atmosphere. +Hard riding seemed to involve hard living, and hard swearing. She had +once heard Laurence let himself go to some rider over hounds, and had +put him on a back shelf in her mind--him and his Peltry with him. A +prude? No, she was sure she was nothing of the sort; but she liked +people to keep a hold on themselves. + +A gay little dinner-party, one of hers, as she told James, finished a +month of high light. The young Pierson couple, some Warreners, a Mrs. +Treveer and Jimmy Urquhart--eight with themselves. The faithful +Francis Lingen was left out as a concession to James and love in the +dark. She noticed, with quiet amusement, how gratified James was. He +was so gratified that he did not even remark upon it. Now James's +little weakness, or one of them, let us say, was that he could not +resist a cutting phrase, when the thing did not matter. Therefore--she +reasoned--Francis Lingen, absurdly enough, did matter. That he +should, that anything of the sort should matter to James was one more +sign to her of the promise, just as the weather was one. The Spring +was at hand, and soon we should all go a-maying. + +So we dined at one table, and had a blaze of daffodils from Wycross, +and everybody seemed to talk at once. Pierson told her after dinner +that Madge thought Urquhart ripping (as she had thought Wagner); and +certainly he was one to make a dinner-party go. He was ridiculous +about Laurence Corbet and his sacred foxes. "Don't _shoot_ that thing! +God of Heaven, what are you about?" "Oh, I beg your pardon, I +thought--" "Are you out of your senses? That must be torn to pieces by +dogs." He was very good at simulating savagery, but had a favourite +trick of dropping it suddenly, or turning it on himself. He caught +Mrs. Treveer, a lady of ardour not tempered by insight. She agreed +with him about hunting. "Oh, you are so right! Now can't something be +done about it? Couldn't a little paper be written--in that vein, you +know?" "Not by me," said Urquhart. "I'm a hunting man, you see." Mrs. +Treveer held up her fan, but took no offence. + +Lucy, with Mabel's letter in mind, gave her guest some attention; but +for the life of her could not see that he paid her any beyond what he +had for the others or for his dinner. He joined Pierson at her side, +and made no effort to oust him. He did not flatter her by recalling +Lancelot; he seemed rather to muse out loud. James with his coat-tails +to the fire was quite at his ease--and when Urquhart offered to drive +her down to Westgate for the half-term (which she herself mentioned), +it was James who said, "Capital! That will be jolly for you." "But +_you_ wouldn't come, would you?" "My child, it is that I _couldn't_ +come. A motor in March! I should die. Besides," he added, "as you +know, I have to be at Brighton that Sunday." She had known it, and she +had known also that Brighton was an excuse. One of the bogies she kept +locked in a cupboard was James's _ennui_ when Lancelot was to the +fore. Could this too be jealousy! + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," Jimmy Urquhart said. "The run down would +be rather jolly, but the run back in the dark might be a bore. The +Nugents have got a house at Sandwich. Why shouldn't you go there? You +know my sister Nugent, as they used to say." + +"Yes, of course I do," Lucy said, "but I couldn't really--" + +"But she is there, my dear ma'am. That's the point. I'll drop you +there on my way back. I wish I could stop too, but that's not +possible. She'll arrange it." + +James thought it an excellent plan; but Lucy had qualms. Odd, that the +visit of Eros should a second time be succeeded by a motor-jaunt! To +go motoring, again, with a Mr. Urquhart--oh! But she owned that she +was absurd. James did not conceal his sarcasms. "She either fears her +fate too much..." he quoted at her. She pleaded with him. + +"Darling," she said--and he was immensely complacent over that--"I +suppose it's a sign of old age, but-- After all, why shouldn't I go by +train--or in our own car, if it comes to that?" + +"Firstly," said James through his eyeglass, "because Urquhart asks you +to go in his--a terror that destroyeth in the noonday compared to +ours; and secondly because, if you don't want it, I should rather like +to go to Brighton in mine." + +"Oh," said she, "then you don't mind motoring in March!" + +"Not in a closed car," said James--"and not to Brighton." This acted +as an extinguisher of the warmer feelings. Let Mr. Urquhart do his +worst then. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +SUNDRY ROMANTIC EPISODES + + +A little cloud of witness, assembled at will like seagulls out of the +blue inane, would come about her in after years. That madly +exhilarating rush to Westgate, for instance, on a keen March morning; +and that sudden question of hers to Urquhart, "What made you think of +asking me?" And his laconic answer, given without a turn of the head, +"Because I knew you would like it. You did before, you know. And that +was January." There was one. Another, connected with it, was her going +alone up to the schoolhouse, and her flush of pleasure when Lancelot +said, "Oh, I say, did He bring you down? Good--then we'll go +immediately and see the car; perhaps it's a new one." She could afford +to recall that--after a long interval. They had had a roaring day, +"all over the place," as Lancelot said afterwards to a friend; and +then there had been her parting with Urquhart in the dark at the open +door of Queendon Court. "Aren't you going to stop?" "No, my dear." +She remembered being amused with that. "Aren't you even coming in?" "I +am not. Good-bye. You enjoyed yourself?" "Oh, immensely." "That's what +I like," he had said, and "pushed off," as his own phrase went. Atop +of that, the return to James, and to nothingness. For nothing +happened, except that he had been in a good temper throughout, which +may easily have been because she had been in one herself--until the +Easter holidays, when he had been very cross indeed. Poor James, to +get him to begin to understand Lancelot's bluntness, intensity, and +passion for something or other, did seem hopeless. + +They were at Wycross, on her urgent entreaty, and James was bored at +Wycross, she sometimes thought, because she loved it so much. +Jealousy. A man's wife ought to devote herself. She should love +nothing but her husband. He had spent his days at the golf course, not +coming home to lunch. Urquhart was asked for a Sunday--on Lancelot's +account--but couldn't come, or said so at least. Then, on the +Saturday, when he should have been there, James suddenly kissed her in +the garden--and, of course, in the dark. + +She hadn't known that he was in the house yet. He had contracted the +habit of having tea at the club-house and talking on till dark. He did +that, as she believed, because she always read to Lancelot in the +evenings: she gave up the holidays entirely to him. Well, Lancelot +that afternoon had been otherwise engaged--with friends of a +neighbour. She had cried off on the score of "seeing something of +Father," at which Lancelot had winked. But James was not in to tea, +and at six--and no sign of him--she yielded to the liquid calling of a +thrush in the thickening lilacs, and had gone out. There she stayed +till it was dark, in a favourite place--a circular garden of her +contriving, with a pond, and a golden privet hedge, so arranged as to +throw yellow reflections in the water. Standing there, it grew +perfectly dark--deeply and softly dark. The night had come down warm +and wet, like manifold blue-black gauze. She heard his quick, light +step. Her heart hammered, but she did not move. He came behind her, +clasped and held her close. "Oh, you've come--I wondered. Oh, how +sweet, how sweet--" And then "My love!" had been said, and she had +been kissed. In a moment he was gone. She had stayed on motionless, +enthralled by the beauty of the act--and when she had withdrawn +herself at last, and had tiptoed to the house, she saw his lamp on the +table, and himself reading the _Spectator_ before a wood fire! +Recalling all that, she remembered the happy little breath of laughter +which had caught her. "If it wasn't so perfectly sweet and beautiful, +it would be the most comic thing in the world!" she had said to +herself. + +A telegram from Jimmy Urquhart came that night just before dinner. +"Arriving to-morrow say ten-thirty for an hour or so, Urquhart." It +was sent from St. James's Street. Lancelot had said, "Stout fellow," +and James took it quite well. She herself remembered her feeling of +annoyance, how clearly she foresaw an interrupted reverie and a +hampered Sunday--and also how easily he had falsified her prevision. +There had been an animated morning of garden inspection, in the course +of which she had shown him (with a softly fluttering heart and perhaps +enhanced colour) the hedged oval of last night's romance; a pony race; +a game of single cricket in the paddock--Lancelot badly beaten; lunch, +and great debate with James about aeroplanes, wherein Lancelot showed +himself a bitter and unscrupulous adversary of his parent. Finally, +the trial of the new car: an engine of destruction such as Lancelot +had never dreamed of. It was admittedly too high-powered for England; +you were across the county in about a minute. And then he had departed +in a kind of thunderstorm of his own making. Lancelot, preternaturally +moved, said to his mother, "I say, Mamma, what a man--eh?" She, +lightly, "Yes, isn't he wonderful?" and Lancelot, with a snort: "A +man? Ten rather small men--easily." And James, poor James, saw nothing +kissable in that! + +It hadn't been till May of that year that Lucy began to think about +Urquhart--or rather it was in May that she discovered herself to be +thinking about him. Mabel assisted her there. Mabel was in Cadogan +Square for the season, and the sisters saw much of each other. Now it +happened that one day Mabel had seen Lucy with Urquhart walking down +Bond Street, at noon or thereabouts, and had passed by on the other +side with no more than a wave of the hand. It was all much simpler +than it looked, really, because Lucy had been to James's office, which +was in Cork Street, and coming away had met Jimmy Urquhart in +Burlington Gardens. He had strolled on with her, and was telling her +that he had been waterplaning on Chichester Harbour and was getting +rather bitten with the whole business of flight. "I'm too old, I know, +but I'm still ass enough to take risks. I think I shall get the +ticket," he had said. What ticket? The pilot's ticket, or whatever +they might call it. "I expect you are too old," she had said, and +then-- "How old are you, by the way?" He told her. "We call it +forty-two." "Exactly James's age; and exactly ten years older than me. +Yes, too old. I think I wouldn't." + +He had laughed. "I'm certain I shall. It appeals to me." Then he had +told her, "The first time I saw a man flying I assure you I could have +shed tears." She remembered that this was out of his power. "Odd +thing! What's gravitation to me, or I to gravitation? A commonplace +whereby I walk the world. Never mind. There was that young man +breaking a law of this planet. Well--that's a miracle. I tell you I +might have wept. And then I said to myself, "My man, you'll do this or +perish." Then she: "And have you done it?" and he: "I have not, but +I'm going to." She had suddenly said, "No, please don't." His quick +look at her she remembered, and the suffusion on his burnt face. "Oh, +but I shall. Do you wish to know why? Because you don't mean it; +because you wouldn't like me if I obeyed you." She said gravely, "You +can't know that." "Yes, but I do. You like me--assume that--" Lucy +said, "You may"; and he, "I do. You like me because I am such as I am. +If I obeyed you in this I should cease to be such as I am and become +such as I am not and never have been. You might like me more--but you +might not. No, that's too much of a risk. I can't afford it." She had +said, "That's absurd," but she hadn't thought it so. + +Mabel came to her for lunch and rallied her. "I saw you, my dear. But +I wouldn't spoil sport. All right--you might do much worse. He's very +much alive. Anyhow, he doesn't wear an--" Then Lucy was hurt. "Oh, +Mabel, that's horrid. You know I hate you to talk like that." Mabel +stood rebuked. "It was beastly of me. But you know I never could stand +his eyeglass. It is what they call anti-social in their novels. +Really, you might as well live in the Crystal Palace." Then she held +out her hand, and Lucy took it after some hesitation. But Mabel was +irrepressible. Almost immediately she had jumped into the fray again, +with "You're both going to his place in Hampshire, aren't you?" Then +Lucy had flushed; and Mabel had given her a queer look. + +"That's all right," she presently said. "He asked us, you know, but we +can't. I hear that Vera Nugent is to be hostess. I rather liked her, +though of course you can never tell how such copious conversation will +wear. I don't think she stopped talking for a single moment. Laurence +thought he was going mad. It makes him broody, you know, like a hen. +He rubs his ears, and says his wattles are inflamed." + +It was either that day, or another such day--it really doesn't matter +which day it was--that Mabel drifted into the subject of what she +called "the James romance." Did James--? Had James--? And where were +we standing now? Lucy, whose feelings upon the subject were more +complicated than they had been at first, was not very communicative; +but she owned there had been repetitions. Mabel, who was desperately +quick to notice, judged that she was mildly bored. "I see," she said; +"I see. But--that's all." + +"All!" cried Lucy. "Yes, indeed." + +Mabel said again, "I see." Lucy, who certainly didn't see, was silent; +and then Mabel with appalling candour said, "I suppose you would have +it out with him if you weren't afraid to." + +Lucy was able to cope with that kind of thing. "Nothing would induce +me to do it. I shouldn't be able to lift my head up if I did. It would +not only be--well, horrible, but it would be very cruel as well. I +should feel myself a brute." On Mabel's shrug she was stung into an +attack of her own. "And whatever you may say, to me, I know that you +couldn't bring yourself to such a point. No woman could do it, who +respected herself." Mabel had the worst of it in the centre, but by a +flanking movement recovered most of the ground. She became very vague. +She said, as if to herself, "After all, you know, you may be mistaken. +Perhaps the less you say the better." + +Mistaken! And "the less you say"! Lucy's grey eyes took intense +direction. "Please tell me what you mean, my dear. Do you think I'm +out of my senses? Do you really think I've imagined it all?" + +"No, no," said Mabel quickly, and visibly disturbed. "No, no, of +course I don't. I really don't know what I meant. It's all too +confusing for simple people like you and me. Let's talk about +something else." Lucy, to whom the matter was distasteful, agreed; but +the thought persisted. Mistaken ... and "the less you say...!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +AT A WORLD'S EDGE + + +It was after that queer look, after her too conscious blush that she +began to envisage the state of her affairs. She was going to Martley +Thicket for Whitsuntide; it was an old engagement, comparatively old, +that is; she did want to go, and now she knew that she did. Well, how +much did she want to go? Ought she to want it? What had happened? + +Questions thronged her when once she had opened a window. What did it +matter to her whether Urquhart qualified as an aviator or not? What +had made her ask him not to do it? How had she allowed him to say +"Assume that you like me"? The short dialogue stared at her in red +letters upon the dark. "Assume that you like me--" "You may assume +it." "I do." She read the packed little sentences over and over, and +studied herself with care. No, honestly, nothing jarred. There was no +harm; she didn't feel any tarnish upon her. And yet--she was looking +forward to Martley Thicket with a livelier blood than she had felt +since Easter when James had kissed her in the shrouded garden. A +livelier blood? Hazarding the looking-glass, she thought that she +could detect a livelier iris too. What had happened? Well, of course, +the answer to that question was involved in another: how much was she +to assume? How much did Urquhart like her? She hoped, against +conviction, that she might have answered these questions before she +met him again--which would probably be at Martley. Just now, stoutly +bearing her disapproval, he was doubtless at Byfleet or elsewhere +risking his neck. She answered a question possibly arising out of this +by a shrewd smile. "Of course I don't disapprove. He knows that. I +shiver; but I know he's perfectly right. He may be sure." The meeting +at Martley would, at the very least, be extremely interesting. She +left it there for the moment. + +But having once begun to pay attention to such matters as these, she +pursued her researches--in and out of season. It was a busy time of +year, and James always laid great stress on what he called "the duties +of her station." She must edge up crowded stairways behind him, stand +at his side in hot and humming rooms where the head spun with the +effort not to hear what other people were saying--so much more +important, always, than what your partner was. James's height and +eyeglass seemed to give him an impartial air at these dreadful +ceremonies. Behind his glass disk he could afford to be impertinent. +And he was certainly rude enough to be an Under-Secretary. Without +that shining buckler of the soul he would have been simply nobody; +with it, he was a demi-god. Here then, under the very shadow of his +immortality, Lucy pursued her researches. What of the romantic, +hidden, eponymous James? Where did he stand now in her regard? + +Since Easter at Wycross, James had not been her veiled Eros, but the +possibilities were all there. He was not a garden god, by any means, +nor a genius of the Spring. January and Onslow Square had not frozen +his currents; February and the Opera House had heightened his passion. +At any moment he might resume his devotional habit--even here in +Carlton House Terrace. And what then? Well--and this was odd--this +ought to have produced a state of tension very trying to the nerves; +and, well--it hadn't. That's all. At that very party in Carlton House +Terrace, with a band braying under the stairs, and a fat lord +shouting in her ear, her secret soul was trembling on a brink. She was +finding out to her half-rueful dismay--it was only half--that she was +prepared to be touched, prepared to be greatly impressed, but not +prepared to be thrilled as she had been, if James should kiss her +again. She was prepared, in fact, to present--as statesmen do when +they write to their sovereign--her grateful, humble duty--and no more. +In vain the band brayed, in vain Lord J----, crimson by her ear, +roared about the weather in the West of Ireland, Lucy's soul was +peering over the edge of her old world into the stretches of a misty +new one. + +This was bad enough, and occupied her through busy nights and days; +but there was more disturbing matter to come, stirred up to cloud her +mind by Mabel's unwonted discretion. Mabel had been more than +discreet. She had been frightened. Pushing out into a stream of new +surmise, she had suddenly faltered and hooked at the quay. Lucy +herself was at first merely curious. She had no doubts, certainly no +fears. What had been the matter with Mabel, when she hinted that +perhaps, after all, James had never done anything? What could Mabel +know, or guess, or suspect? Lucy owned to herself, candidly, that +James was incomprehensible. After thirteen years, or was it +fourteen?--suddenly--with no warning symptoms, to plunge into such +devotion as never before, when everything had been new, and he only +engaged--! Men were like that when they were engaged. They aren't +certain of one, and leave no chances. But James, even as an engaged +man, had always been certain. He had taken her, and everything else, +for granted. She remembered how her sisters, not only Mabel, but the +critical Agnes (now Mrs. Riddell in the North), had discussed him and +found him too cocksure to be quite gallant. Kissed her? Of course he +had kissed her. Good Heavens. Yes, but not as he had that night at the +Opera. "You darling! You darling!" Now James had called her "my +darling" as often as you please--but never until then "you darling." +There's a world of difference. Anybody can see it. + +And then--after the beautiful, the thrilling, the deeply touching +episode--the moment after it--there was the old, indifferent, slightly +bored James with the screwed eye and the disk. Not a hint, not a +ripple, not the remains of a flush. It was the most bewildering, the +most baffling jig-saw of a business she had ever heard of. You would +have said that he was two quite separate people; you might have +said--Mabel would have said at once--that James had had nothing to do +with it. + +But she _had_ said so! The discovery stabbed Lucy in the eyes like a +flash of lightning, left her blind and quivering, with a swim of red +before her hurt vision. That was why Mabel had been frightened. And +now Lucy herself was frightened. + +Francis Lingen, absurd! Mr. Urquhart? Ah, that was quite another +thing. She grew hot, she grew quite cold, and suddenly she began to +sob. Oh, no, no, not that. A flood of tossing thoughts came rioting +and racing in, flinging crests of foam, like white and beaten water. +She for a time was swept about, a weed in this fury of storm. She was +lost, effortless, at death's threshold. But she awoke herself from the +nightmare, walked herself about, and reason returned. It was nonsense, +unwholesome nonsense. Why, that first time, he was in the library with +James and Francis Lingen, his second visit to the house! Why, when she +was at the Opera he had been at Peltry with the Mabels. And as for +Wycross, he had wired from St. James's in the afternoon, and come on +the next day. Absurd--and thank God for it. And poor Francis Lingen! +She could afford to laugh at that. Francis Lingen was as capable of +kissing the Duchess of Westbury--at whose horrible party she had been +the other night--as herself. + +She felt very safe, and enormously relieved. So much so that she could +afford herself the reflection that if hardihood had been all that was +wanting, Jimmy Urquhart would have had plenty and to spare. Oh, yes, +indeed. But--thank God again--he was a gentleman if ever there was +one. Nobody but a gentleman could afford to be so simple in dealing. + +Having worked all this out, she felt that her feet at least were on +solid ground. A spirit of adventure was renewed in her, and a rather +unfortunate _contretemps_ provoked it. Before she knew where she was, +she was up to the neck, as Urquhart would have said, in a turbid +stream. + +Francis Lingen, that elegant unfortunate, was certainly responsible, +if you could call one so tentative and clinging responsible for +anything. He had proposed the Flower Show, to which she had been, as +an earnest gardener, early in the morning, by herself, with a +note-book. She did not want to go with him at all; and moreover she +had an appointment to meet James at a wedding affair in Queen's Gate. +However, being ridiculously amiable where the pale-haired hectic was +concerned, go she did, and sat about at considerable length. He had +only cared to look at the sweet-peas, his passion of the hour, and +urged a chair upon her that he might the better do what he really +liked, look at her and talk about himself. So he did, and read her a +poem, and made great play with his tenderness, his dependence upon her +judgment and his crosses with the world. He pleaded for tea, which, +ordered, did not come; then hunted for the motor, which finally she +found for herself. She arrived late at Queen's Gate; the eyeglass +glared in horror. James, indeed, was very cross. What any chance +victim of his neighbourhood may have endured is not to be known. So +far as Lucy could see he did not open his mouth once while he was +there. He refused all nourishment with an angry gleam, and seemed +wholly bent upon making her self-conscious, uncomfortable and, +finally, indignant. Upon this goodly foundation he reared his mountain +of affront. + +He made himself a monument of matter-of-fact impassivity during the +drive home. His arms were folded, he stared out of window; she thought +once she heard him humming an air. But he didn't smoke, as he +certainly would have done had relations been easy. He kept her at a +distance, but not aggressively. + +Lucy was by this time very much annoyed. Her apologies had been frozen +at the front by his angry glare. She had no intention now of renewing +them, nor did she care to justify herself, as she might have done, by +pointing out that, while she was half-an-hour late, he was probably a +quarter of an hour too early. This would have been a safe venture, for +his fussiness over an appointment and tendency to be beforehand with +it were quite well known to himself. She kept the best face she could +upon the miserable affair, but was determined that she would force a +crisis at home, come what might. + +Arrived at Onslow Square, James strode into the library and shut the +door behind him. When Crewdson was disposed of on his numerous +affairs, Lucy followed her lord. He turned, he stared, and waited for +her to speak. + +Lucy said, "I think that you must be sorry that you have treated me +so. I feel it very much, and must ask you how you justify it." + +James did his best to an easy calm. "Apologies should be in the air. I +should have looked for one myself an hour or so ago." + +"You should have had it," she said, "if you had given me time. But you +stared me out of countenance the moment I came in. Anger before you +had even heard me is not a nice thing to face." + +James turned pale. He used his most incisive tones. "I am ready to +hear your explanation. Perhaps I had better say that I know it." + +Lucy showed him angry eyes. "If you know it, there is no need for me +to trouble you with it. You must also know that it isn't easy to get +away from a great crowd in a minute." + +But he seemed not to hear her. He had another whip in waiting, which +nothing could have kept him from the use of. "I think that I must +trouble you, rather. I think I should be relieved by hearing from you +where the crowd was of which you were one--or two, indeed." + +She discovered that he was white with rage, though she had never seen +him so before. "What do you mean, James?" she said--and he, "I know +that you were at the Flower Show. You were there with Lingen." + +"Yes," said Lucy, "I was indeed. And why shouldn't I be?" + +"I have told you before this what my views are about that. I don't +intend to repeat them, at present." + +"I think you must be mad," said Lucy. "Do you mean to tell me that you +object to Francis Lingen to that extent--to the extent of such a scene +as this?" + +He faced her from his height. "I do mean that." + +"Then," she said, out of herself, "you are insulting me. I don't think +you can intend to do that. And I should like to say also that you, of +all the men in the world, are the last person to be jealous or +suspicious of anybody where I am concerned." + +She hadn't meant to say that; but when she saw that he took it as a +commonplace of marital ethics, she determined to go further still. + +He took it, in fact, just so. It seemed to him what any wife would say +to any indignant husband. "I beg your pardon," he said, "you don't +quite follow me. I agree with you that I should be the last person; +but I beg to point out to you that I should also be the first person. +And I will go on to add, if you will excuse me, that I should be the +only person." + +"No person at all," said Lucy, "has the right or the reason to suspect +me of anything, or to be jealous of any of my acquaintance. You didn't +understand me: I suppose because you are too angry. What I meant you +to remember was how much, how very much, you are bound to believe in +me--now of all times in our life." + +Here then was a Psyche with the lamp in her hand. Here was Lucy on the +limit of a world unknown. Here she stood, at her feet the tufted +grasses and field herbs, dusty, homely, friendly things, which she +knew. Beyond her, beyond the cliff's edge were the dim leagues of a +land and sea unknown. What lay out there beyond her in the mist? What +mountain and forest land lay there, what quiet islands, what sounding +mains? + +But it was done now. James gazed blankly, but angrily, puzzled into +her face. + +"I haven't the faintest notion what you mean," he said. Evidently he +had not. + +She must go on, though she hated it. "You are very surprising. I can +hardly think you are serious. Let me remind you of the opera--of the +_Walkuere_." + +He gave his mind to it, explored the past, and so entirely failed to +understand her that he looked rather foolish. "I remember that we were +there." Then he had a flash of light--and shed it on her, God knows. +"I remember also that Lingen was in the box." + +"Oh, Lingen! Are you mad on--? Do you not remember that you were there +before Lingen?" + +"Yes, I do remember it." He stood, poor fool, revealed. Lucy's voice +rang clear. + +"Very well. If that is all that your memory brings you, I have nothing +more to say." + +She left him swiftly, and went upstairs in the possession of an +astounding truth, but rapt with it in such a whirlwind of wonder that +she could do no more than clutch it to her bosom as she flew. She sent +out word that she was not coming down to dinner, and locked herself in +with her truth, to make what she could of it. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +ANTEROS + + +Macartney was no fool in his own world, where a perfectly clear idea +of what you want to do combined with a nonchalant manner of "Take it +or leave it" had always carried him through the intricacies of +business. If he was a fool in supposing that precisely the same +armoury would defend him at home, there is this excuse for him, that +Lucy had encouraged him to suppose it. When she dashed from the room +at this recent moment he sat for some time with his eyes fixed upon +his foolscap; but presently found himself reading the same sentence +over and over again without understanding one word in it. He dropped +the document, rose and picked himself out a cigar, with deliberation +and attention disproportionate to the business. He cut, stabbed and +lighted the cigar, and stood by the mantelpiece, smoking and gazing +out of window. + +He had overdone it. He had stretched _regime_ too far. There had been +a snap. Now, just where had he failed? Was it with Francis Lingen? +Perhaps. He must admit, though, that some good had come out of the +trouble. He felt reassured about Francis Lingen, because, as he +judged, women don't get angry in cases of the kind unless the husband +has nothing to be angry about. He felt very world-wise and shrewd as +he propounded this. Women like their husbands to be jealous, +especially if they are jealous with reason. Because, then, they say to +themselves, "Well, anyhow, he loves me still. I have him to fall back +upon, at all events." Capital! He gave a short guffaw, and resumed his +cigar. But Lucy was angry: obviously because he had wasted good +jealousy on a mere fancy. Damn it, he had overdone it. The next +thing--if he didn't look out--would be that she would give him +something to be jealous of. He must calm her--there would be no +difficulty in that, no loss of prestige. + +Prestige: that was the thing you wanted to maintain. Discipline be +jiggered--that might do mischief--if you drove it too hard. The fact +was, he was a little too sharp with Lucy. She was a dear, gentle +creature, and no doubt one fell into the habit of pushing a willing +horse. He could see it all now perfectly. He had been put out when he +arrived at the Marchants' too early--she was not there; and then that +old fool Vane with his, "Saw your wife at the Chelsea thing, with +Lingen. They looked very settled"; that had put the lid on. That was +how it was; and he had been too sharp. Well, one must make +mistakes-- + +He wondered what she had meant about the Opera. Why had she harped +upon that string? "You were there before Francis Lingen," she had +said--well, and then--she had been furious with him. He had said, "I +know that I was," and she, "If that is all your memory brings you--" +and off she went. He smoked hard--lifted his hand and dropped it +smartly to his mantelpiece. No; that was a thing no man could fathom. +A Lucyism--quite clear to herself, no doubt. Well, he'd leave that +alone. The more one tried to bottom those waters, the less one fished +up. But he would make peace with her after dinner. + +He heard, "Mrs. Macartney is not dining this evening; she has a bad +headache, and doesn't wish to be disturbed," received it with a curt +nod, and accepted it simply. Better to take women at their word. Her +troubles would have simmered down by the morning, whereas if he were +to go up now, one of two things: either she'd be angry enough to let +him batter at the door to no purpose--and feel an ass for his pains; +or she would let him in, and make a fuss--in which case he would feel +still more of an ass. "Ask Mrs. Macartney if I can do anything," he +had said to Smithers, and was answered, "I think Mrs. Macartney is +asleep, sir." He hoped she was. That would do her a world of good. + +Morning. In the breakfast-room he faced a Lucy self-possessed, with +guarded eyes, and, if he could have seen it, with implied reproach +stiffening every line of her. Her generosity gratified him, but should +have touched him keenly. She came to him at once, and put up her face. +"I'm sorry I was so cross, James." His immediate feeling, I say, was +one of gratification. That was all right. She had come in. To that +succeeded a wave of kindness. He dropped his glass, and took her +strongly in his arms. "Dearest, I behaved very badly. I'm truly +sorry." He kissed her, and for a moment she clung to him, but avoided +his further kisses. Yet he had kissed her as a man should. She had +nothing more to say, but he felt it her due that he should add +something while yet he held her. "As for poor Francis--I know that I +was absurd--I admit it frankly." He felt her shake and guessed her +indignation. "You'll believe me, dear. You know I don't like owning +myself a fool." Then she had looked up, still in his arms--"Why +should you be so stupid? How can you possibly be? You, of all people!" +There she was again. + +But he intended to make peace once and for all. "My dearest, I can't +be more abject, for the life of me. I have confessed that I was an +abounding ass. Please to believe in me. Ask Francis Lingen to tea for +a month of days--and not a word from me!" + +She had laughed, rather scornfully, and tried to free herself. He +kissed her again before he let her go. Almost immediately he resumed +his habits--eyeglass, _Morning Post_, and scraps of comment. He made +an effort and succeeded, he thought, in being himself. "Johnny Mallet +gives another party at the Bachelors to-day. I believe I go. Has he +asked you? He means to. He's a tufthunter--but he gets tufts.... I see +that the Fathers in God are raving about the Tithe Bill. I shall have +Jasper Mellen at me--and the Dean too. Do you remember--did you ever +hear, I wonder, of _Box and Cox_? They have a knack of coming to me on +the same day. Once they met on the doorstep, and each of them turned +and fled away. It must have been very comic...." Lucy busied herself +with her letters and her coffee-cups. She wished that she did not feel +so ruffled, but--a walk would do her good. She would go into the Park +presently, and look at the tulips and lilacs. It was horrid to feel so +stuffy on such a perfect day. How long to Whitsuntide? That was to be +heavenly--if James didn't get inspired by the dark! Something would +have to be prepared for that. In her eyes, sedate though they were, +there lurked a gleam: the beacon-fire of a woman beleaguered. +Certainly Jimmy Urquhart liked her. He had said that she liked him. +Well, and so she did. Very much indeed. + +James went, forgiven, to his Bishops and Deans, and to lunch with his +Johnny Mallet and the tufted. Lucy, her household duties done, arrayed +herself for the tulips of the Park. + +The grey watches of the night with their ache and moments of panic, +the fever and fret, the wearing down of rage and emptying of wonder +and dismay, the broken snatches of dream-sleep, and the heavy slumber +which exhaustion finally gave her--all this had brought downstairs, to +be kissed, embraced and forgiven, a Lucy disillusioned and tired to +death, but schooled to patience. Her conclusion of the whole matter +now was that it was James who had indeed loved her in the dark, with +an access of passion which he had never shown before and could drop +apparently as fitfully as he won to it, and also with a fulness of +satisfaction to himself which she did not pretend to understand. It +was James and no other, simply because any other was unthinkable. Such +things were not done. Jimmy Urquhart--and what other could she imagine +it?--was out of the question. She had finally brushed him out as a +girl flecks the mirror in a cotillon. It was James; but why he had +been so moved, how moved, how so lightly satisfied, how his conduct at +other times could be fitted in--really, it didn't matter two straws. +It meant nothing but a moment's silliness, it led to nothing, it +mended nothing--and it broke nothing. Her soul was her own, her heart +was her own. It was amiable of him, she dared say, but had become +rather a bore. She conceived of a time at hand when she might have to +be careful that he shouldn't. But just now she wouldn't make a fuss. +Anything but that. He was within his rights, she supposed; and let it +rest at that. So arrayed, she faced him, and, to let nothing be +omitted on her part, she herself apologised for what had been his +absurd fault, and so won as much from him as he could ever have given +anybody. As for Francis Lingen--she had not once given him a thought. + +Now, however, James away to his Bishops, she arrayed herself anew, and +went out, _fraiche et dispose_, into the Park, intending that she +should see Urquhart. And so she did. He was on horseback and +dismounted the moment he saw her. He was glad to see her, she could +tell, but did not insist upon his gladness. He admired her, she could +see, but took his admiration as a matter of course. She wore +champagne-colour. She had snakeskin shoes, a black hat. She was +excited, and had colour; her eyes shone. + +"Well," he said, "here you are then. That's a good thing. I began to +give you up." + +"How did you know--?" She stopped, and bit her lip. + +"I didn't. But I'm very glad to see you. You look very well. Where are +you going?" + +She nodded her direction. "Tulips. Just over there. I always +pilgrimise them." + +"All right. Let us pilgrimise them. Tulips are like a drug. A little +is exquisite, and you are led on. Excess brings no more enchantment, +only nausea. You buy a million and plant your woodland, and the result +is horror. A hundred would have been heavenly. That's what I find." + +She had mockery in her look, gleams of it shot with happiness to be +there. "Is that what you've done at Martley? I shan't praise you when +I see it. I hate too-muchness." + +"So do I, but always too late. I ought to learn from you, whose +frugality is part of your charm. One can't imagine too much Lucy." + +"Ah, don't be sure," she cautioned him. "Ask James." + +"I shall. I'm quite equal to that. I'll ask him to-day. He's to be at +an idiotic luncheon, to which I'm fool enough to be going. +Marchionesses and all the rest of it." + +"How can you go to such things when you might be--flying?" + +"Earning your displeasure? Oh, I know, I know. I didn't know how to +refuse Mallet. He seemed to want me. I was flattered. As a matter of +fact--I _have_ flown." + +"Alone?" + +"Good Lord, no. I had an expert there. He let me have the levers. I +had an illusion. But I always do." + +"Do tell me your illusion." + +"I thought that I could sing." + +"You did sing, I'm sure." + +"I might have. One miracle the more. As for the machine--it wasn't a +machine, it was a living spirit." + +"A male spirit or a female spirit?" + +"Female, I think. Anyhow I addressed it as such." + +"What did you say to her?" + +"I said, 'You darling.'" + +That startled her, if you like! She looked frightened, then coloured +deeply. Urquhart seemed full of his own thoughts. + +"How's Lancelot?" he asked her. + +That helped her. "Oh, he delights me. Another 'living spirit.' He +never fails to ask after you." + +"Stout chap." + +"He harps on your story. The first you ever told us. This time he put +in his postscript, 'How is Wives and Co?'" + +He nodded. "Very good. I begat an immortal. That tale will never die. +He'll tell it to his grandchildren." + +They stood, or strolled at ease, by the railings, she within them, he +holding his horse outside them. The tulips were adjudged, names taken, +colours approved. + +"You'll see mine," he said, "in ten days. Do you realise that?" + +She was radiant. "I should think so. That has simply got to happen. +Are you going to have other people there?" + +"Vera," he said, "and her man, and I rather think Considine, her man's +brother. Fat and friendly, with a beard, and knows a good deal about +machines, one way and another. I want his advice about hydroplanes, +among other things. You'll like him." + +"Why shall I like him?" + +"Because he's himself. He has no manners at all, only feelings. Nice +feelings. That's much better than manners." + +"Yes, I dare say they are." She thought about it. "There's a +difference between manner and manners." + +"Oh, rather. The more manner you have the less manners." + +"Yes, I meant that. But even manners don't imply feelings, do they?" + +"I was going to say, Never. But that wouldn't be true. You have +charming manners: your feelings' clothes and a jolly good fit." + +"How kind you are." She was very pleased. "Now, _you_--what shall I +say?" + +"You might say that I have no manners, and not offend me. I have no +use for them. But I have feelings, sometimes nice, sometimes horrid." + +"I am sure that you couldn't be horrid." + +"Don't be sure," he said gravely. "I had rather you weren't. I have +done amiss in my day, much amiss; and I shall do it again." + +She looked gently at him; her mouth showed the Luini compassion, +long-drawn and long-suffering, because it understood. "Don't say that. +I don't think you mean it." + +He shook his head, but did not cease to watch her. "Oh, but I mean it. +When I want a thing, I try to get it. When I see my way, I follow it. +It seems like a law of Nature. And I suppose it is one. What else is +instinct?" + +"Yes," she said, "but I suppose we have feelings in us so that we may +realise that other people have them too." + +"Yes, yes--or that we may give them to those who haven't got any of +their own." + +They had become grave, and he, at least, moody. Lucy dared not push +enquiry. She had the ardent desire to help and the instinct to make +things comfortable on the surface, which all women have, and which +makes nurses of them. But she discerned trouble ahead. Urquhart's +startling frankness had alarmed her before, and she didn't trust +herself to pass it off if it flashed once too often. Flashes like that +lit up the soul, and not of the lamp-holder only. + +They parted, with unwillingness on both sides, at Prince's Gate, and +Lucy sped homewards with feet that flew as fast as her winged +thoughts. That "You darling" was almost proof positive. And yet he had +been at Peltry that night; and yet he couldn't have dared! Now even as +she uttered that last objection she faltered; for when daring came +into question, what might he not dare? Remained the first. He had been +at Peltry, she knew, because she had been asked to meet him there and +had refused on the opera's account. Besides, she had heard about his +riding horses as if they were motors, and-- Here she stood still; and +found herself shaking. That letter--in that letter of Mabel's about +his visit to Peltry, had there not been something of a call to London, +and return late for dinner? And the opera began at half-past six. What +was the date of his call to London? Could she find that letter? And +should she hunt for it, or leave it vague? And then she thought of +Martley. And then she blushed. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +MARTLEY THICKET (1) + + +Urquhart was a man of explosive action and had great reserve of +strength. He was moved by flashes of insight, and was capable of +long-sustained flights of vehement effort; but his will-power was +nourished entirely by those moments of intense prevision, which showed +him a course, and all the stages of it. The mistakes he made, and they +were many and grievous, were mostly due to overshooting his mark, +sometimes to underrating it. In the headlong and not too scrupulous +adventure he was now upon, both defects were leagued against him. + +When he first saw Lucy at her dinner-party, he said to himself, +"That's a sweet woman. I shall fall in love with her." To say as much +was proof that he had already done so; but it was the sudden +conviction of it which inspired him, filled him with effervescent +nonsense and made him the best of company, for a dinner-party. +Throughout it, at his wildest and most irresponsible, his fancy and +imagination were at work upon her. He read her to the soul, or +thought so. + +Chance, and Lancelot, gave him the chart of the terrain. The switch at +the drawing-room door gave him his plan. The opportunity came, and he +dared to take it. He marked the effect upon her. It was exactly what +he had foreseen. He saw her eyes humid upon Macartney, her hand at +rest on his arm. Jesuitry palliated what threatened to seem monstrous, +even to him. "God bless her, I drive her to her man. What's the harm +in that?" + +So he went on--once more, and yet again; and in the meantime by +daylight and by more honest ways he gained her confidence and her +liking. He saw no end to the affair so prosperously begun, and didn't +trouble about one. All he cared about just now were two +courtships--the vicarious in the dark, and the avowed of the daylight. + +He intended to go on. He was full of it--in the midst of his other +passions of the hour, such as this of the air. He was certain of his +direction, as certain as he had ever been. But now his mistakes and +miscalculations began. He had mistaken his Lucy, and his Macartney +too. + +What he didn't know about Macartney, Lucy did know; what he didn't +know about Lucy was that she had found out James. James as Eros +wouldn't do, chiefly because such conduct on James's part would have +been incredible. Urquhart didn't know it would be incredible, nor did +he know that she did. + +One other thing he didn't know, which was that Lucy was half his own +before she started for Martley. She, in fact, didn't know it either. +She had been his from the moment when she had asked him to keep out of +the air, and he had declined. + +All this is necessary matter, because in the light of it his next +deliberated move in his game was a bad mistake. + +On the night before she was expected at Martley, being there himself, +he wrote her a letter to this effect: + + "Dear Mrs. Macartney: To my dismay and concern I find that I + can't be here to receive you, nor indeed until you are on the + point to go away. I shall try hard for Sunday, which will give + me one day with you--better to me than a thousand elsewhere. + Vera will be my curate. Nothing will be omitted which will + show you how much Martley owes you, or how much I am, present + or absent, yours, + + "J. U." + +That letter he gave to Vera Nugent to deliver to Lucy. Vera wanted to +know what it was all about. + +"It's to say that I can't be here," he said. "That is the fact, +unfortunately." + +"Why, my dear Jimmy, I thought you adored her. Isn't the poor lady the +very latest?" + +"My dear girl, I do adore her. Leave it at that. It's an excellent +reason for not being here: the best. But I'm going up with a star, +which is another reason. And I hope to be here on Sunday, which is the +most I can afford myself. Really, that's all. But you like her, you +say; or you should." + +"I do like her. She's not very talkative--to me; but listens well. +Considine will like her. Listeners are rare with him, poor dear. But +you move me. I didn't know you were so far gone." + +"Never mind how far I am gone, provided that I go," said Urquhart. + +"Oh, at this rate, I will hasten you. I can't be bothered with a +_cause celebre_. But what am I to tell the lady? You must be +practical, my fine man." + +"Tell her that I was sent for in a hurry. Hint at the air if you think +proper. I think I have said all that is necessary in the note." + + * * * * * + +The Macartneys were expected to lunch. Urquhart left his house at +noon, driving himself in a motor. He disappeared in the forest, but +didn't go very far. + +James heard of his host's defection with impassivity and a glance of +his eyeglass. "Wonder what Jimmy has shied off for?" he said to Lucy +through the dressing-room door. "Aeroplaning or royalty, do you think? +The ----s may have sent for him. I know he knows them. But it's +characteristic. He makes a fuss about you, so that you think you're +his life or death; and then you find out--not at all! You simply don't +exist--that's all. What do you think?" + +"I don't think that we don't exist," she said. "I think that something +important has happened." + +"Oh, well," said James, "one had got into the way of thinking that one +was important oneself. D----d cool, I call it." + +There had been a moment when Lucy knew anger; but that had soon +passed. She knew that she was bitterly disappointed, and found a +rueful kind of happiness in discovering how bitterly. She had reached +the stage where complete happiness seems to be rooted in +self-surrender. In a curious kind of way the more she suffered the +more surely she could pinch herself on the chin and say, "My dear, you +are caught." There was comfort in this--and Martley itself, house, +gardens, woodlands, the lake, the vistas of the purple wolds of forest +country, all contributed to her enchaining. Luncheon passed off well +under Vera Nugent's vivacious brown eyes, which could not penetrate +the gentle mask of Lucy's manner. Nugent the husband was a sleepy, +good-humoured giant; Lord Considine, whose beard was too long, and +jacket-sleeves much too short--as were his trousers--"his so-called +trousers," as James put it in his scorn--talked fiercely about +birds'-nests and engaged Lucy for the whole afternoon. This was not +allowed him by his sister-in-law, who had other more sociable plans, +but the good man had his pleasure of a docile listener after tea, took +her for a great walk in the woods, and exhibited nearly all his +treasures, though, as he said, she should have been there six weeks +earlier. Alas, if she had been, she would have had a more open mind +to give to the birds and their affairs. + +After dinner, when they were on the terrace under the stars, he +returned to his subject. There were nightingales, it seemed. What did +Mrs. Macartney say to that? It appeared that six miles away the +nightingale was an unknown fowl. Here, of course, they were +legionaries. You might hear six at a time: two triangles of them. Did +she know that they sang in triangles? She did not. Very well, then: +what did she say? What about shoes--a cloak--a shawl? All these things +could be brought. Lucy said that she would fetch them for herself, and +went upstairs--shallow, broad stairs of black oak, very much admired +by the experts. But of them and their excellence she had no thought. +She did not care to let her thoughts up to the surface just then. +Adventure beckoned her. + +When she returned Nugent had withdrawn himself to the smoking-room, +and James was talking to Vera Nugent about people one knew. Neither of +them was for nightingales. "You are very foolhardy," James said. "I +can't help you with nightingales." Lord Considine, in a black Spanish +cloak, with the staff of a pilgrim to Compostella, offered his arm. +"We'll go first to the oak Spinney," he said. "It's rather spongy, I'm +afraid, but who minds a little cold water?" Vera assured him that she +did for one, and James added that he was rather rheumatic. "Come +along, Mrs. Macartney," said the lord. "These people make me sorry for +them." So they went down the steps and dipped into the velvet night. + +It was barely dark skirting the lake. You could almost see the rings +made by rising trout, and there was enough of you visible at least to +send the waterfowl scuttering from the reeds. Beyond that again, you +could descry the pale ribbon of the footpath, and guess at the +exuberant masses of the peony bushes, their heavy flowers, when they +were white, still smouldering with the last of the sunset's fire. But +once in the woods you had to feel your way, and the silence of it all, +like the darkness, was thick, had a quality which you discovered only +by the soft close touch of it upon your cheeks and eyes. It seemed to +clog the ears, and made breathing a deeper exercise. The further in +they went the greater the guesswork of the going. Lord Considine went +in front, to keep the branches from her face. + +Upon that rich, heavy silence the first birds' song stole like a +sense of tears: the low, tentative, pensive note which seems like the +welling of a vein. Lucy stayed and breathlessly listened. The +doubtfulness, the strain of longing in it chimed with her own mood, +which was one, perhaps, of passive wonderment. She waited, as one who +is to receive; she was not committed, but she was prepared: everything +was to come. The note was held, it waxed, it called, and then broke, +as it were, into a fountain of crystal melody. Thereafter it purred of +peace, it floated and stopped short as if content. But out of the dark +another took up the song, and further off another, provoking our first +musician to a new stave. Lucy, with parted lips, held her heart. Love +was in this place, overshadowing her; her sightless eyes were wide, +waiting upon it; and it came. She heard a step in the thicket; she +stayed without motion, will or thought. _Expectans expectavit._ She +was in the strange arms, and the strange kisses were on her parted +lips. + +She knew not, nor cared, how long this rapture held. She got, and she +gave. James, or another, this was Eros who had her now. She heard, +"Oh, Lucy, oh, my love, my love," and she thought to have answered, +"You have me--what shall I do?" But she had no reply to her question, +and seemed to have no desire unsatisfied. + +Lord Considine's voice calling, "I say, shall we go on--or do you +think you had better go in?" sounded a very homely note. Her Eros +still held her, even as she answered, "Perhaps we had better turn back +now. I could stop out forever on such a night. It has been more +beautiful than I can say." Approval of the sentiment expressed was +stamped upon her. For a moment of wild surrender she clung as she +kissed; then she was gently relinquished, and the lord was at hand. +"There's nothing quite like it, is there?" he said. "I've heard +astounding orchestras of birds in South America; but nothing at all +like this--which, moreover, seems to me at its best in England. In +Granada, up there in the Wellington elms, they absolutely--mind, mind, +here's a briar-root--they shout at you. There's a brazen hardihood +about them. In Athens, too, in the King's Garden, it is a kind of +clamour of sound--like an Arab wedding. No, no, I say that we are +unrivalled for nightingales." The enthusiastic man galloped on, and +Lucy, throbbing in the dark, was grateful to him. + +The lights of the house recalled her to the world. Presently, up the +slope, she saw Vera Nugent, at the piano, turning to say something to +somebody. It was James, rather bored in an arm-chair. James liked +neither the society of women nor the notes of a piano. But he liked +still less for such things to be known of him. His own social standard +may perhaps be put thus: he liked to appear bored without boring his +companions. On the whole he flattered himself that, high as it was, he +nearly always reached it. + +"Where's my beautiful young brother?" said Lord Considine, plunging in +upon them. "Asleep, I'll take my oath. My dear Vera, you are too easy +with him. The man is getting mountainous. You two little know what +you've missed--hey, Mrs. Macartney?" He was obviously overheated, but +completely at ease with himself. + +"What do you say we have missed?" Vera asked of James, and he now, on +his feet, said bravely, "For myself, a nasty chill." A chill--out +there! + + * * * * * + +Lucy was asked, Did she like it all, and boldly owned, All. "The dark +is like an eiderdown bed. Impossible to imagine anything softer." She +rubbed her eyes. "It has made me dreadfully sleepy," she said. "I +think, if you won't be horrified--" Vera said that she should go up +with her. James stooped to her cheek, Lord Considine bowed over her +hand. + +In Lucy's room the pair had a long talk, all of which I don't pretend +to report. It began with, "I'm so glad that you take to poor +Considine. You are so very much his sort of woman. He's a dear, simple +creature, far too good for most of us--and a Nugent freak, I assure +you. They've never known the like in the County of Cork.... I like him +immensely, but of course he's too remote for the like of me. No small +talk, you know, and I'm aburst with it. I talk while I'm thinking, and +he when he _has_ thought. You understand that kind, evidently. I +suppose your clever husband is like that. Not that I don't get on with +_him_. We did excellently--I think he knew everybody that I could +think of, and I everybody he chose to mention. But Jimmy likes +Considine, you know.... By the way, it was very disgraceful of Jimmy, +but not so disgraceful as you might think. In its way it's a +compliment. He thinks so much of you--Oh, I may as well tell you the +shocking truth. He ran away. What a moth in the drawing-room ought to +do, but never can, Jimmy, not at all a moth, quite suddenly did. My +dear Mrs. Macartney, Jimmy ran away from you. Flying! I doubt it +profoundly. Wrestling, I fancy, fighting beasts at Ephesus. You have +doubtless discovered how enthusiastic Jimmy is. Most attractive, no +doubt, but sometimes embarrassing. As once, when we were in Naples--in +the funicolare, halfway up Vesuvius--Jimmy sees a party at the other +end of the carriage: mother, daughter, two pig-tailed children, _and_ +a governess--quite a pretty gel. Jimmy was enormously struck with this +governess. He could see nothing else, and nobody else either, least of +all me, of course. He muttered and rolled his eyes about--his chin +jutted like the bow of a destroyer. Presently he couldn't stand it. He +marched across the carriage and took off his hat with a bow--my dear, +to the governess, poor gel! 'I beg your pardon,' says he, 'but I have +to tell you something. I think you are the most beautiful person I +ever saw in my life, and take pride in saying so.' Wasn't it awful? I +didn't dare look at them--but it seemed all right afterwards. I +suppose she told her people that of course he was mad. So he is, in a +way; but it's quite nice madness. I won't say that Jimmy never goes +too far--but nobody could be nicer about it afterwards than Jimmy--no +one. He's awfully sorry, and contrite, and all that. Most people like +him amazingly. I suppose he's told you about our father? He loves all +the stories there are about him ..." and so on. Vera Nugent was a +great talker. + +Lucy at her prayers, Lucy in her bed, had large gaps in the sequence +of her thoughts. Safety lay only with Lancelot. She could centre +herself in him. Lancelot it was who with forceful small fingers, and +half-shy, half-sly eyes, finally closed down hers, with a "Go to +sleep, you tired mamma." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +MARTLEY THICKET (2) + + +The day that succeeded was prelude to the night, sufficient to show +Lucy her way into that spacious unknown. By her own desire she passed +it quietly, and had leisure to review and to forecast. + +She put it to herself, roughly, thus. I may guess, but I don't know, +who loves me so. It cannot continue--it shall stop this very night. +But this one night I must go to him, if only to say that it can never +be again. And it won't be again; I am sure of that. However he may +take it, whatever he may be driven to, he will do what I say must be. +As for me, I don't think women can ever be very happy. I expect I +shall get used to it--one does, to almost anything, except +toothache. And I have Lancelot. She put all this quite frankly to +herself, not shirking the drab outlook or the anguish of doing a thing +for the last time--always a piercing ordeal for her. As for James, if +she thought of him at all, it was with pity. Poor dear, he really was +rather dry! + +She ought to have been very angry with Urquhart, but she was not. "The +first time he did it, I understand. I am sure he had a sudden thought, +and couldn't resist it. It must have been more than half fun, and the +rest because it was so romantic. The other times were much more wrong. +But I'm not angry with him. I ought to be--but I'm not--not at all. I +suppose that is because I couldn't be angry with him if I tried ... +not if he did much more.... No, I am sure he doesn't hold me cheap. +He's not at all like that. James might--only James holds all women +cheap. But He doesn't. I never felt at all like this about a man +before. Only--it must stop, after this once...." + +You see, he had not kindled passion in her, even if there were any to +be kindled. Lucy, with a vehement imagination, lacked initiative. You +could touch her in a moment, if you knew how, or if you were the right +person. Now Urquhart had never touched, though he had excited, her. To +be touched you must respond to a need of hers--much more that than +have a need of your own. And to be the right person you must be +empowered, according to Lucy. Urquhart was not really empowered, but +an usurper. Of course he didn't know that. He reasoned hastily, and +superficially. He thought her to be like most women, struck by +audacity. What really struck her about him were his timeliness--he had +responded to a need of hers when he had first kissed her--and his rare +moments of tenderness. "You darling!" Oh, if James could only have +said that instead of "My darling!" Poor James, what a goose he was. + +It was a very peaceful day. James and Nugent had driven out to play +golf on some first-class course or other by the sea. Lord Considine +was busy with his secretary over a paper for the British Association. +In the afternoon he promised Lucy sight of two golden orioles, and +kept his promise. She had leisure to look about her and find traces of +Urquhart in much that was original, and more that was comfortable and +intimate, in Martley Thicket. It was a long two-storeyed house of +whitewashed brick, with a green slate roof, intermixed with +reed-thatch, deep-eaved and verandahed along the whole south front. +The upper windows had green _persanes_. The house stood on the side of +a hill, was terraced, and looked over a concave of fine turf into a +valley, down whose centre ran the lake, at whose bottom was the wood; +and beyond that the moors and beech-masses of the forest. Beside the +house, and behind it, was a walled kitchen garden, white-walled, with +a thatch atop. On the other side were stables, kennels and such-like. +Everything was grown to the top of its bent; but there was nothing +very rare. "No frills," said Lord Considine, and approved of it all. +"I dare say a woman would beautify it, but it would cease to be +Jimmy's and would cease to be interesting too. She would have more +flowers and fewer shrubs. Now Jimmy knows enough about it to +understand that shrubs and trees are the real test of gardening. +Anybody can grow flowers; but shrubs want science." Lucy felt rebuked. +She had desiderated more flowers. James, who knew nothing and cared +little about gardens, passed approval of the house and offices. "It +doesn't smell of money," he said, "and yet you see what a lot it means +when you look into it." Success, in fact, without visible effort: one +of James's high standards. He didn't know how Jimmy got his money, but +had no doubts at all of its being there. A man who could lend Francis +Lingen L10,000 without a thought must be _richissime_. Yet Jimmy had +no men-servants in the house, and James glared about him for the +reason. Lucy had a reason. "I suppose, you know, he wants to be really +comfortable," she proposed, and James transferred his mild abhorrence +to her. "Comfortable, without a fellow to put out his things!" He +scoffed at her. But she was rather short with him, even testy. "My +dear James, Mr. Urquhart's things are things to be put on or taken +off--like Lord Considine's 'so-called clothes.' To you they seem to be +robes of ceremony, or sacrificial vestments." James stared rather +through than at her, as if some enemy lurked behind her. "My clothes +seem to annoy you. May I suggest that somebody must get the mud off +them, and that I had rather it wasn't me? As for ceremony--" But she +had gone. James shrugged her out of mind, and wondered vaguely if she +was rather attracted by Jimmy Urquhart. It was bound to be +somebody--at her age. Thirty-two she must be, when they begin to like +a fling. Well, there was nothing in it. Later on it occurred to him +that she was looking uncommonly well just now. He saw her, in white, +cross the lawn: a springy motion, a quick lift, turn of the head. She +looked a girl, and a pretty one at that. His heart warmed to her. How +could a man have a better wife than that? Success without effort +again! There it was. + +The evening came, the close of a hot and airless day. The sun set +heavy and red. A bluish mist seemed to steal out of the forest and +shroud the house. The terrace was not used after dinner, and when the +men joined Vera and her in the drawing-room Lord Considine, who had +proposed a game of chess to James at the table, now came forward with +board and box of men. Nugent, as usual, had disappeared. "He's dormant +when there's no hunting," his wife explained. "He has nothing to kill +and hates his fellow-creatures." "Then," said James, "he might kill +some of them. I could furnish him with a rough list." Lucy felt +restless and strayed about the room, looking at things here and there +without seeing them. Vera watched her, saw her wander to the open +window and stand there looking gravely into the dark. She said +nothing, and presently Lucy stepped out and disappeared. Vera, with +raised eyebrows and a half smile, resumed her book. + +Lucy was now high-hearted on her quest--her quest and mission. It was +to be this once, and for the last time. She followed the peony path +from the lake to the thicket, entered among the trees and pushed her +way forward. Long before she reached the scene of last night's wonder +she was a prisoner, her lips a prize. There was very little disguise +left now. For a full time they clung together and loved without words; +but then he spoke. "So you came! I hoped, I waited, I thought that you +might. Oh, my Lucy, what a fact for me!" + +She answered simply and gently, "I came--I had to come--but--" + +"Well, my love?" + +"Ah," she said, "but this must be for the last time." This was not +taken as she had meant it to be. Love began again. Then he said, +"That's absurd." + +"No, no," she protested, "it's right. It must be so. You would not +have me do anything else." + +"And I must go?" + +"Yes, indeed, you must go now." + +"Not yet, Lucy. Soon." + +"No, at once," she told him. "The last time is come, and gone. You +must not keep me." + +"Let me talk to you, so, for a few minutes. There's everything to +say." + +"No," she said, "tell me nothing. I dare not know it. Please let me go +now." + +"A last time, then, Lucy." She yielded her lips, but unwillingly; for +now her mind was made up. The thing had to be done, and the sooner the +better. + +"Ah," he said, "how can I let you go?" + +"Easily," she answered, "when I ask you"; and was unanswerable. She +forced herself free, and stood undecided. + +"You needn't go back yet," he said, but she thought she must. + +"I came out alone," she told him, "but Vera was in the room. So were +the others. I don't know what they will think." + +"Nothing at all," he said. "Well, everything shall be as you wish. You +see that you have only to name your wish." + +"I have one thing to ask you--I dare not ask any more," she said. Her +voice had a wavering sound. + +"Ask," he said, "and I'll tell you the truth." + +"You don't think it wicked of me, to have come? Because I did come. I +thought that I must, because--because I could never explain at any +other time, in any other way. You don't think--lightly of me?" + +"Oh, my dear, my dear," he said--and she felt him tremble, though he +did not touch her. "I think more dearly of you than of anything in +heaven. The world holds no other woman for me. So it will always be." + +She said quietly, "It's very wonderful. I don't understand it at all. +I thought perhaps--I wondered--if I had been angry--" + +"I deserve that, and more." + +"I know I ought to be angry. So I should be if--" + +"Well, my love, well?" + +But she couldn't tell him, and asked him to let her go. They parted at +the entry of the wood with Good night, and Lucy flitted back with a +pain in her heart like the sound of wailing. But women can wail at +heart and show a fair face to the world. Her stretched smile had lost +none of its sweetness, her eyes none of their brightness. Vera Nugent +watched her narrowly, and led the conversation upstairs. She thought +that she detected a pensive note, but assured herself that all was +pretty well. "That's a remarkable woman," she said to herself, "who +would rather have a heartache now than grin with misery next week. +After this I'd trust her anywhere." + + * * * * * + +On Sunday morning Urquhart made an explicit return to Martley, +arriving at the hour of eleven in his motor of battleship grey colour +and formidable fore-extension. Behind it looked rather like a toy. +Lucy had gone to church alone, for James never went, and Vera Nugent +simply looked appealing and then laughed when she was invited. That +was her way of announcing her religion, and a pleasant one. Lord +Considine was out for the day, with sandwiches bulging his pockets. +Nugent had been invisible since overnight. He was slugging, said his +wife. + +Returning staidly through the wood, she saw Urquhart waiting for her +at the wicket, and saw him, be it owned, through a veil of mist. But +it was soon evident, from his address, that the convention set up was +to be maintained. The night was to take care of itself; the day was to +know nothing of it, officially. His address was easy and +light-hearted. "Am I to be forgiven? Can I expect it? Let me tell you +that I do expect it. You know me better than to suppose that I didn't +want to be here on your first visit." + +She answered him with the same spirit. "I think you might have been, I +must say." + +"No, I couldn't. There was no doubt about it. I simply had to go." + +"So Vera told me." Then she dared. "May I ask if you went far?" + +He tipped his head sideways. "Too far for my peace of mind, anyhow." + +"That tells me nothing. I am not to know any more?" + +"You are to know what you please." + +"Well," she said, "I please to forget it. Now I had better tell you +how much I love Martley. James says that the house is perfect in its +way; but I say that you have done justice to the site, and think it +higher praise." + +"It is. I'm much obliged to you. The problem was--not to enhance the +site, for that was out of the question; rather to justify the +impertinence of choosing to put any building there. Because of course +you see that any house is an impertinence in a forest." + +"Yes, of course--but not yours." + +Urquhart shrugged. "I'm not afraid of your flatteries, because I +know," he said. "The most that can be said for me is that I haven't +choked it up with scarlet and orange flowers. There's not a geranium +in the place, and I haven't even a pomegranate in a tub, though I +might." + +"Oh, no," she said warmly, "there's nothing finicky about your +garden--any more than there is about you. There was never such a man +of direction--at least I never met one." The moment she had said it +she became embarrassed; but he took no notice. His manner was perfect. +They returned by the lake, and stayed there a while to watch Nugent +trying to catch trout. The rest of the day she spent in Urquhart's +company, who contrived with a good deal of ingenuity to have her to +himself while appearing to be generally available. After dinner, +feeling sure of him, she braved the tale-bearing woods and +nightingales vocal of her sweet unease. There was company on this +occasion, but she felt certain it would not have been otherwise had +they been retired with the night. She was thoughtful and quiet, and +really her heart was full of complaining. He was steadily cheerful, +and affected a blunt view of life at large. + +She did not look forward to leaving him on the morrow, and as good as +said so. "I have been enchanted here," she said, "and hate the thought +of London. But James won't hear of Wycross in June. He loves the +world." + +Urquhart said, "What are you going to do in August? Wycross?" + +"No, we never go there in August. It's too hot-- And there's +Lancelot. A boy must have excitement. I expect it will come to my +taking him to the sea, unless James consents to Scotland. We used to +do that, but now--well, he's bored there." + +He was looking at her, she felt, though she couldn't see him. "Did you +ever go to Norway?" She shook her head. He said no more on that head +just then. + +"I shall see you in London," he told her. "I am going to take my +Certificate at Brooklands. Next week I hope. You might come and +applaud." + +"No, indeed," said she. "I couldn't bear to see you in those +conditions. I have nerves, if you have none." + +"I have plenty," he said, "but you ought to do it. Some day you will +have to face it." + +"Why shall I?" He wouldn't tell her. + +That made her daring. "Why shall I?" + +His first answer was a steady look; his second, "Nothing stops, you +know. Things all swim to a point. Ebb and flow. They don't go back +until they reach it." + +"And then?" + +"And then they may--or they may not blot it out and swim on." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE GREAT SCHEME + + +The height of her esteem for Urquhart was the measure of her growing +disrelish for James. It was hard to visit upon a man the sense that he +was not what he had never dreamed of being; but that is what happened +to him. By how much he had risen in her eyes when she made an Eros of +him, by so much did he fall when she found out her mistake. Because he +was obviously no Eros, was he so obviously but part of a man? It +seemed so indeed. If he discerned it there's no wonder. He irritated +her; she found herself instinctively combating his little preparations +for completeness of effect--she was herself all for simplicity in +these days. She could not conceal her scorn, for instance, when he +refused to go with her to dine in a distant suburb because he would +not have time to dress. "As if," she said, "you eat your shirt-front!" +Trenchancy from James produced a silent disapproval. As he said, if +she didn't sniff, she looked as if she felt a cold coming on. She +knew it herself and took great pains; but it coloured her tone, if not +her words. Too often she was merely silent when he was very much +himself. Silence is contagious: they passed a whole dinner through +without a word, sometimes. + +Now James had his feelings, and was rather unhappy over what he called +her moods. He thought she did not go out enough. She ought to see more +people: a woman liked to be admired. It did not occur to him that she +might have been very glad of it from him; but then he didn't know how +highly she had been elated with what she called, thinking it really +so, his love-in-the-darkness. No, Macartney, if ever he looked into +himself, found nothing wrong there. He kept a wary eye through his +masking-glass upon Urquhart's comings and goings. As far as he could +ascertain he was rarely in London during June and early July. No doubt +he wrote to Lucy; James was pretty sure of it; yet he could not stoop +to examining envelopes, and had to leave that to Providence and +herself. He mingled with his uneasiness a high sense of her integrity, +which he could not imagine ever losing. It was, or might have been, +curious to observe the difference he made between his two jealousies. +He had been insolent to Francis Lingen, with his "Ha, Lingen, you +here?" He was markedly polite to Jimmy Urquhart, much more so than his +habit was. He used to accompany him to the door when he left, an +unheard-of attention. But that may have been because Lucy went thither +also. + +As a matter of fact Urquhart saw very little of her. He was very much +away, on his aerial and other affairs, and did not care to come to the +house unless James was there, nor, naturally, very much when he was. +They mostly met in the Park, rarely at other people's houses. Once she +lunched at the Nugents' and had the afternoon alone with him; twice he +drove her to Kew Gardens; once she asked him for a week-end to +Wycross, and they had some talks and a walk. He wrote perhaps once a +week, and she answered him perhaps once a fortnight. Not more. She had +to put the screw on herself to outdo him in frugality. She respected +him enormously for his mastery of himself, and could not have told how +much it enhanced her love. It was really comical that precisely what +she had condemned James for she found admirable in Jimmy. James had +neglected her for his occupations, and Jimmy was much away about his. +In the first case she resented, in the second she was not far from +adoration of such a sign of serious strength. + +They never alluded directly to what had happened, but sometimes hinted +at it. These hints were always hers, for Urquhart was a random talker, +said what came into his head and had no eye for implications. He made +one odd remark, and made it abruptly, as if it did not affect anybody +present. "It's a very funny thing," he said, "that last year I didn't +know Macartney had a wife, and now, six months later, I don't realise +that you have got a husband." It made her laugh inwardly, but she said +gently, "Try to realise it. It's true." + +"You wish me to make a point of it?" he asked her that with a shrewd +look. + +"I wish you, naturally, to realise me as I am." + +"There doesn't seem much of you involved in it," he said; but she +raised her eyebrows patiently. + +"It is a fact, and the fact is a part of me. Besides, there's +Lancelot." + +"Oh," he said, "I don't forget him. You needn't think it. He is a +symbol of you--and almost an emanation. Put it like this, that what +you might have been, he is." + +"Oh," said she, "do you want me to be different?" + +He laughed. "Bless you, no. But I like to see what you gave up to be +made woman. And I see it in your boy." + +She was impelled to say what she said next by his words, which excited +her. "I can't tell you--and perhaps I ought not--how happy you make me +by loving Lancelot. I love him so very much--and James never has. I +can't make out why; but it was so from the beginning. That was the +first thing which made me unhappy in my life at home. It was the +beginning of everything. He seemed to lose interest in me when he +found me so devoted." + +Urquhart said nothing immediately. Then he spoke slowly. "Macartney is +uneasy with boys because he's uneasy with himself. He is only really +interested in one thing, and he can see that they are obviously +uninterested in it." + +"You mean--?" she began, and did not finish. + +"I do," said Urquhart. "Most men are like that at bottom--only some of +us can impose ourselves upon our neighbours more easily than he can. +Half the marriages of the world break on that rock, and the other half +on idleness." + +She then confessed. "Do you know what I believe in my heart? I believe +that James's eyeglass stands in his way with Lancelot--as it certainly +did with me." + +"I think you are right there," he agreed. "But you must allow for it. +He's very uncertain of his foothold, and that's his war armour." + +She was more tolerant of James after that conversation, and less +mutinous against her lot. She wondered, of course, what was to become +of them, how long she could hold him at arms' length, how she could +bring herself to unsay what had been said in the dark of Martley +Thicket. But she had boundless faith in Urquhart, and knew, among +other things, that any request she made him would be made easy for +her. + +But when, at the end of June, he broached to her his great scheme, she +was brought face to face with the situation, and had to ask herself, +could she be trusted? That he could she knew very well. + +He had a project for a month or six weeks in Norway. He had hinted at +it when she was at Martley, but now it was broached. He didn't +disguise it that his interest lay wholly in her coming. He laid it +before her: she, Lancelot and James were to be the nucleus. He should +ask the Corbets and their boys, Vera and hers. Nugent would refuse, he +knew. Meantime, what did she say? He watched her shining eyes +perpending, saw the gleam of anticipated delight. What a plan! But +then she looked down, hesitating. Something must now be said. + +"Oh, of course Lancelot would go mad with joy, and I dare say I could +persuade James--" + +"Well? But you?" + +"I should live every moment of the time, but--sometimes life seems to +cost too much." + +He held out his hand to her, and she took it very simply. "Promise to +come, and you shan't repent it. Mind, you have my word on that." Then +he let her go, and they discussed ways and means. She would speak to +James; then he should come and dine, and talk it out. Meantime, let +him make sure of Vera, and do his best with the Corbets. If they were +fixed up, as she thought probable, he might get some other people. +Considine might like it. "He's very much at your disposal, let me tell +you. You have him at your feet." + +So it was settled, and James was attacked in front. She told him as +they were driving out to dinner that she had met Mr. Urquhart that +afternoon. "I dare say you might," said James. But he had stiffened to +attention. + +"He blazed upon me a plan for August. I said I would ask you about +it." + +James said, "H'm. Does it rest with me?" + +"Naturally it does. I should not think of any plans without talking to +you." + +"No, I suppose you wouldn't," said he. Then he asked, "And what does +Urquhart want you to do?" + +"He doesn't want me, particularly. He wants all three of us." + +"I think," said James, "you'll find that he wants you most." + +She felt that this must be fathomed. "And if he did," she said, +"should you object to that?" He kept very dry. + +"It isn't a case of objecting to that, or this. The question before me +at present is whether I want to form one of a party which doesn't want +me, and where I might be in the way." + +"From what I know of Mr. Urquhart," she answered, "I don't think he +would ever ask a person he didn't want." + +"He might, if he couldn't get the person he did want in any other +way," said James. "Who else is to come?" + +"Vera Nugent and her boy, and perhaps Lord Considine. He is going to +ask Laurence and Mabel and all the boys too." + +"It will be a kind of school-treat," said James. "I own it doesn't +sound very exciting. Where are we to go to?" + +"To Norway. He knows of a house on the Hardanger Fiord, a house in a +wood. He wants to hire a steamer to take us up from Bergen, and means +to bring a motor-boat with him. There will be fishing of sorts if you +want it." + +"I don't," said James; then held up his chin. "Is my tie straight?" + +She looked. "Perfectly. What am I to say to Mr. Urquhart?" + +He said, "I'll talk about it; we'll discuss it in all its bearings. I +don't think I'm so attracted as you are, but then--" + +"It's very evident you aren't," Lucy said, and no more. She felt in a +prickly heat, and thought that she had never wanted anything so much +in her life as this which was about to be denied her. She dared not +write to Lancelot about it; but to Urquhart she confessed her despair +and hinted at her longing. He replied at once, "Ask me to dinner. +I'll tackle him. Vera and child will come; not Considine. The Corbets +can't--going to Scotland, yachting. We needn't have another woman, but +Vera will be cross if there is no other man. Up to you to find one." + +This again she carried to James, who said, "Let him come--any free +night. Tell me which you settle, will you?" + +James had been thinking it out. He knew he would have to go, and was +prepared with what he called a spoke for Jimmy's wheel. Incidentally +it would be a nasty one for Lucy, and none the worse for that. He +considered that she was getting out of hand, and that Urquhart might +be a nuisance because such a spiny customer to tackle. But he had a +little plan, and chuckled over it a good deal when he was by himself. + +He was, as usual, excessively urbane to Urquhart when they met, and +himself opened the topic of the Norwegian jaunt. Urquhart took up the +ball. "I think you might come. Your wife and boy will love it, and +you'll kindle at their joy. 'They for life only, you for life in +them,' to flout the bard. Besides, you are not a fogey, if I'm not. I +believe our ages tally. You shall climb mountains with me, Macartney, +and improve the muscles of your calves. You don't fish, I think. Nor +do I. I thought I should catch your brother-in-law with that bait--but +no. As for mine, he'll spend the month in bed somewhere." + +"Is your sister coming?" James asked. + +Urquhart nodded. "And her youngster. Osborne boy, and a good sort. +Lancelot and he have met." + +"They'll fight," said James, "and Mrs. Nugent and Lucy won't speak." + +"Vera would speak, I'm sure," said Lucy, "and as for me, I seldom get +a chance." + +"A very true saying," said Urquhart. "I don't believe the Last +Judgment would prevent Vera from talking. Well, Macartney, what says +the Man of the World?" + +"If you mean me," said James, "I gather that you all want to go. Lucy +does, but that's of course. Lancelot will, equally of course. But I +have a suggestion to make. Might not the party be a little bigger?" + +"It might, and it should," said Urquhart; "in fact, I asked Considine +to join us. He would love it, but he has to make a speech at a +Congress, or read a paper, and he says he can't get out of it. The +Corbets can't come. I'll ask anybody else you like." + +James, who was now about to enjoy himself, said, "I leave the ladies +to Lucy and Mrs. Nugent. Their choice would no doubt be mine. But I +certainly think we want another man. Much as you and I esteem each +other, my dear Urquhart, if there's walking to be done--serious +walking, I think we shall be better three than two. I don't at all +agree that three is no company. Where men are concerned I think it +better than two or four. If only to give a knee, or hold the sponge! +And with more than four you become a horde. We want a man now." + +"I think so too," Urquhart said. "Well, who's your candidate?" + +James meditated, or appeared to meditate. "Well," he said, looking up +and fixing Urquhart with his eyeglass, "what do you say to Francis +Lingen? Lucy likes him, I am used to him, and you will have to be some +day." + +Lucy was extremely annoyed. That was evident. She bit her lip, and +crumbled her bread. She said shortly, "Francis couldn't walk to save +his life." + +"Let us put it another way," said James, enjoying his little _coup_. +"Let us say that if he did walk, he might save his life." + +Urquhart marked the breeze, and sailed into it. "I leave all that to +you. All I know about Lingen is that I have done my best to oblige him +in his private affairs. I confess that I find him mild, not to say +insipid, but I dare say he's the life of a party when he's put to it." + +"Oh," said James, not averse from disparaging an old rival, "Oh, poor +chap, he hasn't many party tricks. I'd back him at cat's-cradle, and I +dare say he plays a very fair game at noughts-and-crosses. Besides, +he'll do what he's told, and fetch things for you. You'll find him a +handy and obliging chap to have about." + +"Sounds delightful," said Urquhart pleasantly. He turned to Lucy. +"We'll give him Lingen, shall we?" + +She said, "By all means. It doesn't matter in the least to me." + +So James had his little whack, after all. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +JAMES + + +James, hardly knowing it, was bracing himself for a serious situation. +He had a keen eye for a man, a feeling for style; in his judgment +Urquhart was momentous, so much so that he could not afford to be +irritated. Jealousy to him was a weakness, only pardonable when the +cause was trivial. It had been trivial with poor Lingen. Fishing in +heavy water, a skipjack snaps at your fly, and you jerk him out to +bank with a Devil take you. But the swirling shoulder, the long ridge +across the pool, and the steady strain: you are into a twelve-pounder, +and the Devil is uninvoked. + +He asked Jimmy to lunch at his club, and took the candid line about +the Norwegian project. Lucy was desperately tired, he said, so he was +pleased with the scheme. The poor dear girl was run down, the fact +was. "You are very good for her, I believe. You exhilarate her; she +forgets her troubles. She admires audacity--from the bank." + +"I'll be as audacious as you please," said Jimmy. + +"Oh, you won't take me in," James said. "I'm an old hand. I know my +Urquhart. But Lucy will expect feats of strength. You are a champion." + +"D---- your eyes!" said Urquhart to himself. + +"The boy is one of your slaves, too. I can't tell you how contented I +am that you approve of him." + +"He's all right," said Urquhart, who didn't like all this. James, on +the contrary, liked it awfully. He became a chatterbox. + +"He's more than that in his mother's esteem. But Lucy's a wise mother. +She moves with her finger on her lip. And that, mind you, without +coddling. She'll risk him to the hair's-breadth--and never a word. But +she won't risk herself. Not she! Why, she might be wanted! But there +it is. Women can do these things, God knows how! It's men who make a +fuss. Well, well--but I babble." + +"My dear man," said Urquhart, "not at all. It's a thing you never do." + +Thus encouraged, James plugged onwards. He talked more of himself and +his affairs than he had ever done in his life before; expatiated upon +his growing business, assumed his guest's contentment in his +happiness, invited praise of his Lucy, and was not rebuffed at their +denial. Urquhart, at first amused, ended by being annoyed. He felt as +if James was a busy dwarf engaged in tying him up in lengths of black +cotton. Round and round he went, coil after coil was added; before +luncheon was over he could move neither hand nor foot. It was rather +ludicrous, really; reduced to speechlessness, he sat and stared +blankly at a voluble James, prattling away about things which didn't +matter. He found himself even admiring things about him: the way he +could bite pull-bread, for instance; the relish he had for his food. +But all this chatter! He was too uncomfortable to see that James's +present relish was chiefly for that. The Stilton and biscuits, the +glass of port were but salt to the handling of Jimmy Urquhart; for +James was a good fighter when he had a good man against him. + +His parting words were these: "Now I shouldn't be surprised if she +found herself out of conceit with this beano before we start. She's +like that, you know. In such a case it's up to you to do something. +You and Lancelot between you. That's an irresistible pair. I defy a +gentlewoman, and a mother, to lose heart. Come in when you can. Tell +us tales of far Cashmere. Sing us songs of Araby. I won't promise to +join in the chorus--if you have choruses; but I shall revel in my +quiet way. Now don't forget. I count upon you. By-bye." + +"D---- your eyes, oh, d---- your eyes!" said Jimmy, shouldering the hill +as he went his way. + +Really, he began to lose nerve a little--and for such a sanguine man a +little was much. It was as if he was on the downward slide of the +wave, no longer cresting the flow, which surged on ahead of him, +carrying him no longer. The fact was that he was now at the difficult +part of an enterprise which had been so far too easy. At the moment it +was not obvious to him what he was to do. James was aware, that was +plain; and James had a strong hand--if he knew that too, he had an +unassailable hand. But did he? Urquhart thought not. He chuckled +grimly to himself as he saw his complacent host taken at his word. He +looked at his wrist. "Half-past three? D---- him, I'll go and see her +now." + +But Lucy, as James had truly put it, held firmly to the bank. Glad of +him she certainly was, amused by his audacities; but not tempted to +plunge. He saw very soon that he must be careful with her. A reference +to the Hardanger woods at night, to the absence of nightingales, +absence of the dark--she veiled her eyes with blankness, and finally +shut down the topic. "Don't let's talk of what is not in Norway. Tell +me what is there. I have to keep Lancelot supplied you know." No man +has so little self-esteem as to suppose that a woman can definitely +put him away. Urquhart had plenty, and preferred to think that she +thrust him more deeply within her heart. "Quite right," he said, and +exerted himself on her amusement. James, coming home early, found him +on the hearth-rug, talking really well about his flying. Nobody could +have behaved better than James. He took his cup of tea, listened, was +interested, smoked a cigarette; then touched Lucy's shoulder, saying, +"I leave you to your escapades." He went to his own room, with nothing +to do there, and sat it out. He fought his nervousness, refused to see +his spectres, sat deep in his chair, grimly smoking. He heard the +drawing-room door open, Urquhart's voice: "Yes, it will be all right. +Leave all that to me." Lucy said something, he could not tell what. +His heart beat faster to hear her tones. Urquhart let himself out: she +had not gone with him to the front door. Was that a good sign? or a +bad one? He frowned over that intricate question; but kept himself +from her until dinner-time. She might have come in--he half expected +her; but she did not. What was she doing in there by herself? Was she +thinking where she stood? So pretty as she was, so innocent, such a +gentle, sweet-natured creature! Alas, alas! + +In short, James was growing sentimental about Lucy. Man of fashion as +he was, with that keen eye for style and the mode, it may well be that +Urquhart's interest in her was a kind of _cachet_. A hall-mark! +However that may be, James looked at her more curiously during that +July than he had done since he saw her first in the garden of Drem +House. Yes, Lucy was pretty; more than that, she had charm. He saw it +now. She moved her head about like a little bird--and yet she was not +a little woman by any means; tall, rather, for a woman. But there was +an absence of suspicion about Lucy--or rather of fundamental suspicion +(for she was full of little superficial alarms), which was infinitely +charming--but how pathetic! It was deeply pathetic; it made him +vaguely unhappy, and for a long time he did not know why tears swam +into his eyes as he watched her over the top of his evening paper, or +was aware (at the tail of his eye) of her quick and graceful motions +before her dressing-glass. Studying his feelings deeply, as never +before, he found himself out. It was that he was to lose her, had +perhaps lost her, just as he had found out how inexpressibly dear she +was to be. And amazement came upon him, and dismay to realise that +this sweetness of hers, this pliancy of temper, this strength within +beauty were really there in her apart from him. As if he had believed +that they lay in his esteem! No, indeed: they were her own; she could +bestow them where she pleased. + +But he couldn't touch her--now: he would die sooner than touch her. +And he couldn't say anything to her: that would have been to throw up +the game. She should never pity him, and give him for pity what would +have become, in the very giving, negligible to herself. He knew +himself well: he could never ask for a thing. No! but could he get her +to ask for something? Ah, then she might find out whom she had +married! A man, he judged, of spendthrift generosity, a prodigal of +himself. Yes, that was how it must be, if to be at all. He kept his +eyes wide, and followed her every movement, with a longing to help +which was incessant, like toothache. At the same time he was careful +to keep himself quiet. Not a tone of voice must vary, not a daily +action betray him. That hand on the shoulder, now, when Urquhart was +last here. Too much. There must be no more of it, though he could +still feel the softness of her in the tips of his fingers. Thus he +braced himself. + +He held good cards: but he didn't know how good. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AMARI ALIQUID + + +Lingen was exceedingly gratified by Lucy's letter. James had thought +the invitation should come from her, and, as the subject-matter was +distasteful to her, sooner than discuss it she had acquiesced. Few +pin-pricks had rankled as this one. She had never had any feeling but +toleration for Lingen; James had erected him as a foible; and that he +should use him now as a counter-irritant made her both sore and +disgustful. She wished to throw up the whole scheme, but was helpless, +because she could neither tell James, who would have chuckled, nor +Urquhart either. To have told Urquhart, whether she told him her +reason or left him to guess it, would have precipitated a confession +that her present position was untenable. In her heart she knew it, for +the heart knows what the mind stores; but she had not the courage to +summon it up, to table it, and declare, "This robe is outworn, +stretched at the seams, ragged at the edges. Away with it." Just now +she could not do it; and because she could not do it she was trapped. +James had her under his hand. + +Therefore she wrote her, "Dear Francis," and had his grateful +acceptance, and his solemn elation, visible upon his best calling +face. "I can't tell you how happy you have made me. It is beautiful, +even for you, to make people happy. That is why you do it: what else +could you do? Life is made up of illusions, I think. Let me therefore +add to the sum of mine that you have desired my happiness." This sort +of thing, which once had stirred her to gentle amusement, now made her +words fall dry. "You mustn't forget that James has desired it too." +"Oh," said Francis Lingen, "that's very kind of him." + +"Really, it is Mr. Urquhart's party. He invented it." + +"Did he desire my happiness too?" asked Lingen, provoked into mockery +of his own eloquence by these chills upon it. + +"At least he provided for it," said Lucy, "and that you shouldn't be +uncomfortable I have asked Margery Dacre to come." + +Lingen felt this to be unkind. But he closed his eyes and said, "How +splendid." + +That was the fact. It had been an afterthought of hers, and partially +countered on James. Margery Dacre also had accepted. She had said, +"How too delicious!" James, when made aware that she was coming, +ducked his head, it is true, but made a damaging defence. + +"Is she?" he said. "Why?" + +"She'll make our number a square one," she replied, "to begin with. +And she might make it more pleasant for the others--Francis Lingen and +Mr. Urquhart." + +If she hadn't been self-conscious she would never have said such a +thing as that. James's commentary, "I see," and the subsequent +digestion of the remark by the eyeglass, made her burn with shame. She +felt spotted, she felt reproach, she looked backward with compunction +and longing to the beginning of things. There was now a tarnish on the +day. Yet there was no going back. + +Clearly she was not of the hardy stuff of which sinners must be made +if they are to be cheerful sinners. She was qualmish and easily +dismayed. Urquhart was away, or she would have dared the worst that +could befall her, and dragged out of its coffer her poor tattered robe +of romance. Between them they would have owned to the gaping seams +and frayed edges. Then he might have kissed her--and Good-bye. But he +was not at hand, and she could not write down what she could hardly +contemplate saying. + +Never, in fact, was a more distressful lady on the eve of a party of +pleasure. Lancelot's serious enjoyment of the prospect, evident in +every line of his letters, was her only relish; but even that could +not sting her answers to vivacity. "I hope the Norwegians are very +sensible. They will need all their sense, because we shall have none +when the pirate is there." "There used to be vikings in Norway. They +came to England and stole wives and animals. Now we bring them a man +for wives. That is what for with the chill of." "I must have a new +reel to my fishing-rod. The old one has never been the same since I +made a windlass of it for the battleship when it was a canal-boat, and +it fell into the water when we made a landslide and accident which was +buried for three days and had a worm in the works. Also a v. sharp +knife for reindeer, etc. They are tough, I hear, and my knife is +sharpest at the back since opening sardines and other tins, all rather +small." He drove a fevered pen, but retained presence of mind enough +to provide for his occasions: "The excitement of Norway may lose me +some marks in term's order. Not many I dare say." Again, "When you are +excited reports go bad. I have been shouting rather, kicking up a +shine. Once there was a small fight which was twigged. Norway is a +serious matter." There was an undercurrent of nervousness, discernible +only to her eyes. She could not account for it till she had him home, +and they were on the edge of adventure. It was lest he should be +seasick and disgrace himself in the esteem of young Nugent, who, as a +naval officer, was of course sea-proof. "I expect Nugent likes it very +rough," he said--and then, "I don't, you know, much. Not for weeks at +a time. Rather a nuisance." However, it was solved in the event by +Nugent being prostrate from the time they left the Tyne. Between his +spasms he urged his mother to explain that Lord Nelson was always +seasick. But Lancelot was very magnanimous about it. + +There was diversion in much of this, and she used it to lighten her +letters to Urquhart, which, without it, had been as flat as +yesterday's soda-water. As the time came near when they should leave +home she grew very heavy, had forebodings, wild desires to be done +with it all. Then came a visitation from the clear-eyed Mabel and a +cleansing of the conscience. + +Mabel said that she was sorry to miss Norway. It would have amused her +enormously. "To see you in the saddle, with two led horses!" She +always talked as if she was an elder sister. "I almost threw Laurence +over; but of course I couldn't do that. He's so dependent and silent +and pathetic--but thank goodness, he hasn't found out, like James, the +real use of wives. That is, to have somebody to grumble to who really +minds. There's your James for you. He doesn't want to go a bit; he'd +much rather be at Harrogate or somewhere of that sort. Perhaps he'd +like Homburg. But he wouldn't go for the world. He's not pathetic at +all, though he wants to be; but he wants to be sarcastic at the same +time, and is cross because the two things won't go together. Of course +he stuck in Francis Lingen. He would. As if he cared about Francis +Lingen, a kind of poodle!" + +"You oughtn't to abuse James to me," Lucy said, not very stoutly; "I +don't abuse Laurence." + +"Abuse him!" cried Mabel. "Good Heavens, child, I only say out loud +what you are saying to yourself all day. We may as well know where we +are." Then came a pause; and then, "I suppose you and Jimmy Urquhart +are in a mess." + +Lucy said nothing; whereupon Mabel showed her clear sight. "And I +suppose you know now who turned the light off." At that terrible +surmise Lucy got up and stood above her sister. "Mabel, I don't know +what to do." + +"I am sure you don't," said Mabel. "On the other hand, you know what +you have to do." + +"Yes," Lucy replied; "but it isn't so easy as you would think. You +see, I have never spoken to him about it, nor he to me; and it seems +almost impossible to begin--now." + +Mabel was out of her depth. "Do you mean--? What do you really mean?" + +"I mean exactly what I say. I found out the truth, by a kind of +accident--one day. It wasn't possible to doubt. Well, then--it went +on, you know--" + +"Of course it did," said Mabel. "Well?" + +--"And there was no disguise about it, after there couldn't be." + +"Why should there be, if there couldn't be?" Mabel was at her wits' +end. + +"There was no disguise about it, while it was going on, you know. But +in the daytime--well, we seemed to be ordinary people, and nothing was +said. Now do you see?" + +Mabel did. "It makes it very awkward for you. But feeling as you do +now, you simply must have it out." + +"I can't," Lucy said with conviction. "I know I can't do that. No, it +must stop another way. I must--be hateful." + +"Do you mean to make him dislike you? To put him off?" + +Lucy nodded. "Something like that." + +"Try it," said Mabel. + +"You mean it won't answer?" + +"I mean that _you_ won't, my dear. You are not that sort. Much too +kind. Now I could be perfectly beastly, if I felt it the only thing." + +Lucy was in a hard stare. "I don't feel kind just now. James has given +me a horror of things of the sort. I don't believe he meant it. I +think he felt snappish and thought he would relieve his feelings that +way. But there it is. He has made it all rather disgusting. It's +become like a kind of intrigue of vulgar people, in a comedy." + +"These things do when you take them out and look at them," Mabel said. +"Like sham jewellery. They are all right in their cases. The velvet +lining does so much. But although you may be disgusted with James's +handling of your private affairs, you are not disgusted with--the +other?" + +"No, I suppose not. I really don't know. He is the most understanding +man in the world, and I would trust him through everything. I don't +think he could tell me an untruth. Not one that mattered, anyhow. I +could see him go away from me for a year, for two, and not hear a word +from him, and yet be sure that he would come back, and be the same, +and know me to be the same. I feel so safe with him, so proud of his +liking me, so settled in life--I never felt settled before--like being +in a nest. He makes everything I love or like seem more beautiful and +precious--Lancelot, oh, I am much prouder of Lancelot than I used to +be. He has shown me things in Lancelot which I never saw. He has made +the being Lancelot's mother seem a more important, a finer thing. I +don't know how to say it, but he has simply enhanced everything--as +you say, like a velvet lining to a jewel. All this is true--and +something in me calls for him, and urges me to go to him. But now--but +yet--all this hateful jealousy--this playing off one man against +another--Francis Lingen! As if I ever had a minute's thought of +Francis Lingen--oh, it's really disgusting. I didn't think any one in +our world could be like that. It spots me--I want to be clean. I'd +much rather be miserable than feel dirty." + +Here she stopped, on the edge of tears, which a sudden access of anger +dried up. She began again, more querulously. "It's his fault, of +course. It was outrageous what he did. I'm angry with him because I +can't be angry with myself--for not being angry. How could I be angry? +Oh, Mabel, if it had been James after all! But of course it wasn't, +and couldn't be; and I should be angry with him if I wasn't so awfully +sorry for him." + +Mabel stared. "Sorry for James!" + +"Yes, naturally. He's awfully simple, you know, and really rather +proud of me in his way. I see him looking at me sometimes, wondering +what he's done. It's pathetic. But that's not the point. The point is +that I can't get out." + +"Do you want to get out?" Mabel asked. + +"Yes, I do in a way. It has to be--and the sooner the better. And +whether I do or not, I don't like to feel that I can't. Nobody likes +to be tied." + +"Then nobody should be married," said Mabel, who had listened to these +outbursts of speech, and pauses which had been really to find words +rather than breath, with staring and hard-rimmed eyes. She had a gift +of logic, and could be pitiless. "What it comes to, you know," she +said, "is that you want to have your fun in private. We all do, I +suppose; but that can't come off in nine cases out of ten. Especially +with a man like James, who is as sharp as a razor, and just as edgy. +The moment anybody peers at you you show a tarnish, and get put off. +It doesn't look to me as if you thought so highly of--the other as you +think you do. After all, if you come to that, the paraphernalia of a +wedding is pretty horrid; one feels awfully like a heifer at the +Cattle Show. At least, I did. The complacency of the bridegroom is +pretty repulsive. You feel like a really fine article. But one lives +it down, if one means it." + +Lucy told her to go, or as good as told her. Sisters may be plain with +each other. She wasn't able to answer her, though she felt that an +answer there was. + +What she had said was partly true. Lucy was a romantic without knowing +it. So had Psyche been, and the fatal lamp should have told her so. +The god removed himself. Thus she felt it to be. He seemed just +outside the door, and a word, a look, would recall him to his dark +beauty of presence. That he was beautiful so she knew too well, that +he was unbeautiful in the glare of day she felt rather than knew. The +fault, she suspected, lay in her, who could not see him in the light +without the blemish of circumstance--not his, but circumstance, in +whose evil shade he must seem smirched. What could she do with her +faulty vision, but send him away? Was that not less dishonourable than +to bid him remain and dwindle as she looked at him? What a kink in her +affairs, when she must be cruel to her love, not because she loved him +less, but rather that she might love him more! + +But the spirit of adventure grew upon her in spite of herself, the +sense of something in the wind, of the morning bringing one nearer to +a great day. It pervaded the house; Crewdson got in the way of saying, +"When we are abroad, we shall find that useful, ma'am"; or "Mr. +Macartney will be asking for that in Norway." As for James, it had +changed his spots, if not his nature. James bought marvellous climbing +boots, binoculars, compasses of dodgy contrivance, sandwich-cases, +drinking-flasks, a knowing hat. He read about Norway, studied a +dictionary, and ended by talking about it, and all to do with it, +without any pragmatism. Lucy found out how he relied upon Urquhart and +sometimes forgot that he was jealous of him. Jealous he was, but not +without hope. For one thing, he liked a fight, with a good man. Lingen +caught the epidemic, and ceased to think or talk about himself. He had +heard of carpets to be had, of bold pattern and primary colouring; he +had heard of bridal crowns of silver-gilt worthy of any collector's +cabinet. He also bought boots and tried his elegant leg in a +flame-coloured sock. And to crown the rocking edifice, Lancelot came +home in a kind of still ecstasy which only uttered itself in +convulsions of the limbs, and sudden and ear-piercing whistles through +the fingers. From him above all she gained assurance. "Oh, Mr. +Urquhart, he'll put all that straight, I bet you--in two ticks!..." +and once it was, "I say, Mamma, I wonder where you and I would be +without Mr. Urquhart." James heard him, and saw Lucy catch her breath. +Not very pleasant. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE SHIVERING FIT + + +They were to start on the 8th of August, and it was now the 5th. +Packing had begun, and Crewdson, as usual, was troublesome. He had the +habit of appearing before Lucy and presenting some small deficiency as +a final cause of ruin and defeat. "I can't find any of the Brown +Polish, ma'am. I don't know what Mr. Macartney will do without it." +This, or something like it, had become a classic in the family. It had +always been part of the fun of going away. But this year Lucy was +fretted by it. She supposed herself run down and whipped herself to +work. She found herself, too, lingering about the house, with an +affection for the familiar aspect of corners, vistas, tricks of light +and shadow, which she had never thought to possess. She felt extremely +unwilling to leave it all. It was safety, it was friendliness; it +asked no effort of her. To turn away from its lustrous and ordered +elegance and face the unknown gave her a pain in the heart. It was +odd to feel homesick before she had left home; but that was the sum of +it. She was homesick. Urquhart was very much in her mind; a letter of +his was in her writing-table drawer, under lock and key; but Urquhart +seemed part of a vague menace now, while James, though he did his +unconscious utmost to defeat himself, got his share of the sunset glow +upon the house. Fanciful, nervous, weary of it all as she was, she +devoted herself to her duties; and then, on this fifth of August, in +the afternoon, she had a waking vision, perfectly distinct, and so +vivid that, disembodied and apart, she could see herself enacting it. +It was followed by a shivering fit and depression; but that must tell +its own tale. + + * * * * * + +The vision occurred while she was on her knees, busied beside a trunk, +turning over garments of lace and fine linen and pale blue ribbons +which a maid, in the same fair attitude, was bestowing as she received +them. Lancelot was out for the afternoon with Crewdson and a friend. +They had gone to the Zoological Gardens, and would not be back till +late. She had the house to herself; it was cool and shadowed from the +sun. The Square, muffled in the heat, gave no disturbing sounds. +Looking up suddenly, for no apparent reason, she saw herself with +Jimmy Urquhart in a great empty, stony place, and felt the dry wind +which blew upon them both. All but her own face was visible; of that +she saw nothing but the sharp outline of her cheek, which was very +white. She saw herself holding her hat, bending sideways to the +gale; she saw her skirt cling about her legs, and flack to get free. +She wondered why she didn't hold it down. The wind was a hot one; she +felt that it was so. It made her head ache, and burned her cheek-bone. +Urquhart was quite visible. He looked into the teeth of the wind, +frowning and fretful. Why didn't she say something to him? She had a +conviction that it was useless. "There's nothing to say, nothing to +say." That rang in her head, like a church bell. "Nothing to say, +nothing to say." A sense of desolation and total loss oppressed her. +She had no hope. The vacancy, the silence, the enormous dry emptiness +about her seemed to shut out all her landmarks. Why didn't she think +of Lancelot? She wondered why, but realised that Lancelot meant +nothing out there. She saw herself turn about. She cried out, "James! +James!" started up with a sense of being caught, and saw the maid's +face of scare. She was awake in a moment. "What is it, ma'am? What is +it?" + +Lucy had recovered her faculties: "Nothing, Emily; it's nothing. I was +giddy." But she was shivering and couldn't go on. "I think I'll lie +down for a minute," she said, and asked for the aspirin. She took two +tabloids and a sip of water, was covered up and left to herself. Emily +tiptoed away, full of interest in the affair. + +The shivering fit lasted the better part of an hour. Lucy crouched and +suffered, open-eyed but without any consciousness. Something had +happened, was happening still; a storm was raging overhead; she lay +quaking and waited for it to pass. She fell asleep, slept profoundly, +and awoke slowly to a sense of things. She had no doubt of what lay +immediately before her. Disrelish of the Norwegian expedition was +now a reasonable thing. Either it must be given up, or the disaster +reckoned with. _Advienne que pourra._ But in either case she must +"have it out" with James. What did that mean? Jimmy Urquhart would be +thrown over. He would go--and she would not. She lay, picturing rather +than reasoning; saw him superbly capable, directing everything. She +felt a pride in him, and in herself for discovering how fine he was. +His fineness, indeed, was a thing shared. She felt a sinking of the +heart to know that she could not be there. But the mere thought of +that sickened her. Out of the question. + +She must "have it out" with James. That might be rather dreadful; it +might take her where she must refuse to go--but on the whole, she +didn't think it need. The certainty that she couldn't go to Norway, +that James must be made to see it, was a moral buttress. Timidity of +James would not prevail against it. Besides that, deeply within +herself, lay the conviction that James was kind if you took him the +right way. He was irritable, and very annoying when he was sarcastic; +but he was good at heart. And it was odd, she thought, that directly +she got into an awkward place with a flirtation, her first impulse was +to go to James to get her out. In her dream she had called to him, +though Urquhart had been there. Why was that? + +She was thinking now like a child, which indeed she was where such +matters were concerned. She was not really contrite for what she had +done, neither regretted that she had done it, nor that it was done +with. She wanted to discharge her bosom of perilous stuff. James would +forgive her. He must not know, of course, what he was forgiving; +but--yes, he would forgive her. + + * * * * * + +At six or thereabouts, listening for it, she heard the motor bring +James home; she heard his latch-key, and the shutting of the door +behind him. Her heart beat high, but she did not falter. He was +reading a letter in the hall when she came downstairs; he was very +much aware of her, but pretended not to be. She stood on the bottom +stair looking at him with wide and fixed eyes; but he would not look +up. He was not just then in a mood either to make advances or to +receive them. His grievance was heavy upon him. + +"James," said Lucy, "I've been listening for you." + +"Too good," said he, and went on with his letter. + +"I wanted to tell you that I don't think--that I don't much want to go +to Norway." + +Then he did look up, keenly, with a drawn appearance about his mouth, +showing his teeth. "Eh?" he said. "Oh, absurd." He occupied himself +with his letter, folding it for its envelope, while she watched him +with a pale intensity which ought to have told him, and perhaps did +tell him, what she was suffering. + +"I don't think you should call me absurd," she said. "I was never very +certain of it." + +"But, my dearest child, you made me certain, at any rate," he told +her. "You made everybody certain. So much so that I have the tickets +in my pocket at this moment." + +"I'm very sorry. I could pay for mine, of course--and I'm sure Vera +would look after Lancelot. I wouldn't disappoint him for the world." + +"What are you going to tell Urquhart?" said James. Her eyes paled. + +"I believe that he would take it very simply," she said. James plunged +his hands into his pockets. He thought that they were on the edge of +the gulf. + +"Look here, Lucy," he said; "hadn't you better tell me something more +about this? Perhaps you will come into the library for a few minutes." +He led the way without waiting for her, and she stood quaking where +she was. + +She was making matters worse: she saw that now. Naturally she couldn't +tell James the real state of the case, because that would involve her +in history. James would have to understand that he had been believed +to have wooed her when he had done nothing of the kind. That was a +thing which nothing in the world would bring her to reveal to him. And +if she left that out and confined herself to her own feelings for +Urquhart--how was all that to be explained? Was it fair to herself, or +to Urquhart, to isolate the flowering of an affair unless you could +show the germinating of it? Certainly it wasn't fair to herself--as +for Urquhart, it may be that he didn't deserve any generous treatment. +She knew that there was no defence for him, though plenty of +excuse--possibly. No--she must go through with the Norway business. +Meantime James was waiting for her. + +She stood by the library table while James, back to the fireplace, +lifted his head and watched her through cigar-smoke. He had no mercy +for her at this moment. Suspicions thronged his darkened mind. But +nothing of her rueful beauty escaped him. The flush of sleep was upon +her, and her eyes were full of trouble. + +"It isn't that I have any reason which would appeal to you," she told +him. She faltered her tale. "I think I have been foolish--I know that +I'm very tired and worried; but--I have had presentiments." + +James clicked his tongue, which he need not have done--as he knew very +well. But he had not often been arbiter of late. + +"My child," he said, "really--" and annoyed her. + +"Of course you are impatient. I can't help it, all the same. I am +telling you the truth. I don't know what is going to happen. I feel +afraid of something--I don't know what--" + +"Run down," said James, looking keenly at her, but kindly; "end of the +season. Two days at sea will do the job for you. Anyhow, my dear, we +go." He threw himself in his deep chair, stretched his legs out and +looked at Lucy. + +She was deeply disappointed; she had pictured it so differently. He +would have understood her, she had thought. But he seemed to be in his +worst mood. She stood, the picture of distressful uncertainty, hot and +wavering; her head hung, her hand moving a book about on the table. To +his surprise and great discomfort he now discerned that she was +silently crying. Tears were falling, she made no effort to stop them, +nor to conceal them. Her weakness and dismay were too much for her. +She accepted the relief, and neither knew nor cared whether he saw it. + +James was not hard-hearted unless his vanity was hurt. This was the +way to touch him, as he was prepared to be touched. "My child," he +said, "why, what's the matter with you?" She shook her head, tried to +speak, failed, and went on crying. + +"Lucy," said James, "come here to me." She obeyed him at once. + +Something about her attitude moved him to something more than pity. +Her pretty frock and her refusal to be comforted by it; her youthful +act--for Lucy had never yet cried before him; her flushed cheeks, her +tremulous lips--what? If I could answer the question I should resolve +the problem of the flight of souls. He looked at her and knew that he +desired her above all things. A Lucy in tears was a new Lucy; a James +who could afford to let his want be seen was a new James. That which +stirred him--pity, need, desire, kindness--vibrated in his tones. To +hear was to obey. + +He took her two hands and drew her down to his knee. He made her sit +there, embraced her with his arm. "There, my girl, there," he said; +"now let me know all about it. Upon my soul, you are a baffling young +woman. You will, and you won't; and then you cry, and I become +sentimental. I shall end by falling in love with you." + +At these strange words she broke down altogether, and sobbed her soul +out upon his shoulder. Again he assured himself that he had never seen +her cry before. He was immensely touched by it, and immensely at his +ease too. His moral status was restored to him. He knew now what he +wanted. "You poor little darling, I can't bear to see you cry so. +There then--cry away, if it does you good. What does me good is to +have you here. Now what made you so meek as to come when I called you? +And why weren't you afraid that I should eat you up? So I might, Lucy, +you know; for you've made me madly in love with you." + +It seemed to her beating heart that indeed he was. He held her very +close, kissed her wet cheeks, her wet eyes and her lips. She struggled +in his embrace, but not for long. She yielded, and returned his +kisses. So they clung together, and in the silence, while time seemed +to stand still, it really did nothing of the kind; for if he gained +experience she lost it. + +He must have grown more experienced, for he was able to return without +embarrassment to the affairs so strangely interrupted. She must have +grown less so, because she answered him simply, like a child. He asked +her what had upset her, and she told him, a dream. A dream? Had she +been asleep? No, it was a waking dream. She told him exactly what it +was. She was with Mr. Urquhart in a horrible place--a dry, sandy place +with great rocks in it. "And where did I come in?" "You didn't come +in. That was why I called you." "You called for me, did you? But +Urquhart was there?" "Yes, I suppose he was still there. I didn't +look." "Why did you call for me, Lucy?" "Because I was frightened." +"I'm grateful to you for that. That's good news to me," he said; and +then when he kissed her again, she opened her eyes very wide, and +said, "Oh, James, I thought you didn't care for me any more." + +James, master of himself, smiled grimly. "I thought as much," he said; +"and so you became interested in somebody else?" + +Lucy sat up. "No," she said, "I became interested in you first." + +That beat him. "You became interested in _me_? Why? Because I didn't +care for you?" + +"No," she said sharply; "no! Because I thought that you did." + +James felt rather faint. "I can't follow you. You thought that I +didn't, you said?" Lucy was now excited, and full of her wrongs. + +"How extraordinary! Surely you see? I had reason to think that you +cared for me very much--oh, very much indeed; and then I found out +that you didn't care a bit more than usual; and then--well, then--" +James, who was too apt to undervalue people, did not attempt to pursue +the embroilment. But he valued her in this melting mood. He held her +very close. + +"Well," he said, "and now you find that I do care--and what then?" + +She looked at him, divinely shy. "Oh, if you really care--" + +This would have made any man care. "Well, if I really do--?" + +"Ah!" She hid her face on his shoulder. "I shall love to be in +Norway." + +James felt very triumphant; but true to type, he sent her upstairs to +dress with the needless injunction to make herself look pretty. + +Presently, however, he stood up and stared hard at the ground. "Good +Lord!" he said. "I wonder what the devil--" Then he raised his +eyebrows to their height. "This is rather interesting." + + * * * * * + +The instinct was strong in him to make her confess--for clearly there +was something to be known. But against that several things worked. One +was his scorn of the world at large. He felt that it was beneath him +to enquire what that might be endeavouring against his honour or +peace. Another--and a very new feeling to him--was one of compassion. +The poor girl had cried before him--hidden her face on his shoulder +and cried. To use strength, male strength, upon that helplessness; to +break a butterfly on a wheel--upon his soul, he thought he couldn't do +it. + +And after all--whether it was Lingen or Urquhart--he was safe. He knew +he was safe because he wanted her. He knew that he _could_ not want +what was not for him. That was against Nature. True to type again, he +laughed at himself, but owned it. She had been gone but five or ten +minutes, but he wanted to see her again--now. He craved the sight of +that charming diffidence of the woman who knows herself desired. He +became embarrassed as he thought of it, but did not cease to desire. +Should he yield to the whim--or hold himself...? + +At that moment Lancelot was admitted. He heard him race upstairs +calling, "Mamma, Mamma! frightfully important!" That decided the +thing. He opened his door, listening to what followed. He heard Lucy's +voice, "I'm here. You can come in...." and was amazed. Was that Lucy's +voice? She was happy, then. He knew that by her tone. There was a lift +in it, a _timbre_. Was it just possible, by some chance, that he had +been a damned fool? He walked the room in some agitation, then went +hastily upstairs to dress. + +Whether to a new James or not, dinner had a new Lucy to reveal; a Lucy +full of what he called "feminine charm"; a Lucy who appealed to him +across the table for support against a positive Lancelot; who brought +him in at all points; who was concerned for his opinion; who gave him +shy glances, who could even afford to be pert. He, being essentially +a fair-weather man, was able to meet her half-way--no more than that, +because he was what he was, always his own detective. The discipline +which he had taught himself to preserve was for himself first of all. + +Lancelot noticed his father. "I say," he said, when he and Lucy were +in the drawing-room, "Father's awfully on the spot, isn't he? It's +Norway, I expect. Bucks him up." + +"Norway is enough to excite anybody," Lucy said--"even me." + +"Oh, you!" Lancelot was scornful. "Anything would excite you. Look at +Mr. Urquhart." + +Lucy flickered. "How do you mean?" Lancelot was warm for his absent +friend. + +"Why, you used to take a great interest in all his adventures--you +know you did." + +This must be faced. "Of course I did. Well--?" + +"Well," said Lancelot, very acutely, "now they seem rather +ordinary--rather chronic." _Chronic_ was a word of Crewdson's, used as +an augmentive. Lucy laughed, but faintly. + +"Yes, I expect they are chronic. But I think Mr. Urquhart is very +nice." + +"He's ripping," said Lancelot, in a stare. + +James in the drawing-room that evening was studiously himself, and +Lucy fought with her restlessness, and prevailed against it. He was +shy, and spun webs of talk to conceal his preoccupations. Lucy watched +him guardedly, but with intense interest. It was when she went +upstairs that the amazing thing happened. + +She stood by him, her hand once more upon his shoulder. He had his +book in his hand. + +"I'm going," she said. "You have been very sweet to me. I don't +deserve it, you know." + +He looked up at her, quizzing her through the detested glass. "You +darling," he said calmly, and she thrilled. Where had she heard that +phrase? At the _Walkuere_! + +"You darling," he said; "who could help it?" + +"Oh, but--" she pouted now. "Oh, but you can help it often--if you +like." + +"But, you see, I don't like. I should hate myself if I thought that I +could." + +"Do let me take your glass away for one minute." + +"You may do what you please with it, or me." + +The glass in eclipse, she looked down at him, considering, hesitating, +choosing, poised. "Oh, I was right. You look much nicer without it. +Some day I'll tell you." + +He took her hand and kept it. "Some day you shall tell me a number of +things." + +She did not cease to look at him, but he saw fear in her eyes. "Some +day, perhaps, but not yet." + +"No," said he, "not yet--perhaps." + +"Will you trust me?" + +"I always have." + +She sighed. "Oh, you are good. I didn't know how good." Then she +turned to go. "I told you I was going--and I am. Good night." + +He put his book down. She let his eyeglass fall. He drew her to his +knee, and looked at her. + +"It's not good night," he said. "That's to come." + +She gave him a startled, wide look, and then her lips, before she +fled. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE HARDANGER + + +That enchanted land of sea and rock, of mountains rooted in the water, +and water which pierces the secret valleys of the mountains, worked +its spell upon our travellers, and freed them from themselves for a +while. For awhile they were as singleminded as the boys, content to +live and breathe that wine-tinctured air, and watch out those flawless +days and serene grey nights. London had sophisticated some of them +almost beyond redemption: Francis Lingen was less man than sensitive +gelatine; James was the offspring of a tradition and a looking-glass. +But the zest and high spirits of Urquhart were catching, and after a +week Francis Lingen ceased to murmur to ladies in remote corners, and +James to care whether his clothes were pressed. Everybody behaved +well: Urquhart, who believed that he possessed Lucy's heart, James, +who knew now what he possessed, Vera Nugent, who was content to sit +and look on, and Lucy herself, who simply and honestly forgot +everything except the beauty of the world, and the joy of physical +exertion. She had been wofully ill on the passage from Newcastle and +had been invisible from beginning to end. But from the moment of +landing at Bergen she had been transformed. She was now the sister of +her son, a wild, wilful, impetuous creature, a nymph of the heath, +irresponsible and self-indulgent, taking what she could get of comfort +and cherishing, and finding a boundless appetite for it. It was +something, perhaps, to know in her heart that every man in the party +was in love with her; it was much more--for the moment at least--to be +without conscience in the matter. She had put her conscience to sleep +for once, drugged it with poppy and drowsy syrups, and led the life of +a healthy and vigorous animal. + +Urquhart enjoyed that; he was content to wait and watch. For the time +James did not perceive it. The beauty and freshness of this new world +was upon him. Francis Lingen, born to cling, threw out tentative +tendrils to Margery Dacre. + +Margery Dacre was a very pretty girl; she had straw-coloured hair and +a bright complexion. She wore green, especially in the water. Urquhart +called her Undine, and she was mostly known as the Mermaid. She had +very little mind, but excellent manners; and was expensive without +seeming to spend anything. For instance, she brought no maid, because +she thought that it might have looked ostentatious, and always made +use of Lucy's, who didn't really want one. That was how Margery Dacre +contrived to seem very simple. + +For the moment Urquhart took natural command. He knew the country, he +owned the motor-boat; he believed that he owned Lucy, and he believed +that James was rather a fool. He thought that he had got the better of +James. But this could not last, because James was no more of a fool +than he was himself, though his intelligence worked in a different +way. Things flashed upon Urquhart, who then studied them intensely and +missed nothing. They dawned on James, who leisurely absorbed them, and +allowed them to work out their own development. + +It was very gradually now dawning upon James that Urquhart had assumed +habits of guidance over Lucy and was not aware of any reason why he +should relinquish them. He believed that he understood her thoroughly; +he read her as a pliant, gentle nature, easily imposed upon, and +really at the mercy of any unscrupulous man who was clever enough to +see how she should be treated. He had never thought that before. It +was the result of his cogitations over recent events. So while he kept +his temper and native jealousy under easy control, he watched +comfortably--as well he might--and gained amusement, as he could well +afford to do, from Urquhart's marital assumptions. When he was tempted +to interfere, or to try a fall with Urquhart, he studiously refrained. +If Urquhart said, as he did sometimes, "I advise you to rest for a +bit," James calmly embraced the idea. If Urquhart brought out a cloak +or a wrap and without word handed it to her, James, watching, did not +determine to forestall him on the next occasion. And Lucy, as he +admitted, behaved beautifully, behaved perfectly. There were no +grateful looks from her, such as he would expect to see pass between +lovers. Keenly as he watched her, he saw no secret exchange. On the +other hand, her eyes frequently sought his own, as if she wanted him +to understand that she was happy, as if, indeed, she wanted him to be +happy by such an understanding. This gave him great pleasure, and +touched him too. If he had been capable of it, he would have told her; +but he was not. It was part of his nature to treat those whom he +loved _de haut en bas_. He found that it was so, and hated himself for +it. The one thing he really grudged Urquhart was his simplicity and +freedom from ulterior motive. Urquhart was certainly able to enjoy the +moment for the moment's worth. But James must always be calculating +exactly what it was worth, and whether to be enhanced by what might +follow it. + +He was kinder to her than he had ever been before. In fact, he was +remarkably interesting. She told him of it in their solitary moments +of greatest intimacy. "This is my honeymoon," she said, "and I never +had one before." + +"Goose," said he, "don't attempt to deceive me." But she reasserted +it. + +"It's true, James. You may have loved me in your extraordinary way, +but I'm sure I didn't love you. I was much too frightened of you." + +"Well," he laughed, "I don't discover any terrors now." She wouldn't +say that there were none. So far as she dared she was honest. + +"We aren't on an exact equality. We never shall be. But we are much +nearer. Own it." + +He held her closely and kissed her. "You are a little darling, if +that's what you mean." + +"Oh, but it isn't; it isn't at all what I mean. Why, you wouldn't call +me 'little' if you didn't know you were superior. Because I'm rather +tall for a woman." + +He knew that she was right, and respected her for the discernment. "My +love," he said, "I'm a self-centred, arrogant beast, and I don't like +to think about it. But you'll make something of me if you think it +worth while. But listen to me, Lucy. I'm going to talk to you +seriously." Then he whispered in her ear: "Some day you must talk to +me." He could feel her heart beat, he could feel her shiver as she +clung. + +"Yes," she said very low; "yes, I promise--but not now." + +"No," he said, "not now. I want to be happy as long as I can." She +started away, and he felt her look at him in the dark. + +"You'll be happier when I've told you," she said. + +"Why do you say that?" + +"Because I shall be happier myself then," she said; and James hoped +that she was right about him. One thing amazed him to discover--how +women imputed their own virtues to the men they loved. It struck him a +mortal blow to realise that his evident happiness would give Lucy +joy, whereas hers would by no means necessarily add to his. "What does +give me happiness, then?" he asked himself; "what could conceivably +increase my zest for life? Evidence of power, exercise of faculty: so +far as I know, nothing else whatever. A parlous state of affairs. But +it is the difference, I presume, between a giving creature and a +getting one which explains all. Is a man, then, never to give, and be +happy? Has he ever tried? Is a woman not to get? Has she ever had a +chance of it?" He puzzled over these things in his prosaic, methodical +way. One thing was clear to everybody there but Urquhart in his +present fatuity: Lucy was thriving. She had colour, light in her eyes, +a bloom upon her, a dewiness, an auroral air. She sunned herself like +a bird in the dust; she bathed her body, and tired herself with long +mountain and woodland walks. When she was alone with her husband she +grew as sentimental as a housemaid and as little heedful of the +absurd. She grew young and amazingly pretty, the sister of her son. It +would be untrue to say that, being in clover, she was unaware of it. +For a woman of one-and-thirty to have her husband for a lover, and her +lover for a foil, is a gift of the gods. So she took it--with the sun +and green water, and wine-bright air. Let the moralists battle it out +with the sophists: it did her a world of good. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE MOON-SPELL + + +Macartney fell easily into habits, and was slow to renounce them. +Having got into the way of making love to his wife, he by no means +abandoned it; at the same time, and in as easy a fashion, it came to +be a matter of routine with him to play piquet with Vera Nugent after +dinner. It was she who had proposed it, despairing of a quartette, or +even of a trio, for the Bridge which was a dram to her. Here also +James would have been only too happy; but nobody else would touch it. +Lucy never played cards; Urquhart, having better things to do, said +that he never did. Margery Dacre and Lingen preferred retirement and +their own company. Lingen, indeed, was exhibiting his heart to the +pale-haired girl as if it was a specimen-piece. "I am really a very +simple person," he told her, "one of those who, trusting once, trust +for ever. I don't expect to be understood, I have no right to ask for +sympathy. That would be too much to look for in a jostling, +market-day world like ours. But I cherish one or two very fragrant +memories of kindnesses done. I open, at need, a drawer; and, like the +scent of dry rose-leaves, or lavender, a sweet hint steals out that +there are good women in the world, that life is not made up of +receipted bills. Don't you understand the value of such treasures? I +am sure that you do. You always seem to me so comprehending in your +outlook." Margery said that she hoped she was. + + * * * * * + +It was Lucy's business immediately after dinner to see that Lancelot +was decently abed. The lad took the last ounce out of himself before +that time came, and was to be brought by main force to the bath, +crimson to the roots of his hair and dripping with sweat. Protesting +to the uttermost, still panting with his final burst in the open, she +saw to it that he was quiet before she could be so herself. Then she +was free, and Urquhart found--or looked for--his chance. The woods +called her, the wondrous silver-calm of the northern night. She longed +to go; but now she dreaded Urquhart, and dared not trust herself. It +had come to this, that, possessed as she was, and happy in possession, +he and all that he stood for could blot the whole fair scene up in +cold fog. That was how she looked at it in the first blush of her new +life. + +He didn't understand that; but he saw that she was nervous, and set +himself to reassure her. He assumed his dryest tone, his most +negligent manner. When she came downstairs from Lancelot, and after +watching the card-players, fingering a book or magazine, drifted to +the open window and stood or leaned there, absorbing the glory of the +night--Urquhart left her, and pulled at his pipe. When she spoke to +the room at large--"Oh, you stuffy people, will you never understand +that all the world is just out here?" he was the first to laugh at +her, though he would have walked her off into that world of magic and +dream, straight from the window where she stood. He was a wild +idealist himself, and was sure of her. But he must wait her good time. + +Often, therefore, she drifted out by herself, and he suffered +damnably. But she never went far--he comforted himself with that +assurance. "She has the homing instinct. She won't go without me; and +she knows that I can't come--but oh, to be kissing her under those +birches by the water's edge!" + +He was not the only one who was aware that she had flitted. Macartney +was always intensely aware of it, and being by this time exceedingly +fond, it tended to spoil his play. So long as Urquhart left her alone +he was able to endure it. + +Then came an evening when, tending to the open door, she found +Urquhart there before her. He had behaved so admirably that her fears +were asleep. He acted with the utmost caution, saying just enough, +with just enough carelessness of tone, to keep her unsuspicious. The +boreal lights were flashing and quivering in the sky: very soon he saw +her absorbed in the wonder and beauty of them. "A night," she said, +"when anything might happen!" + +"Yes, it looks like that," he agreed. "But that is not what enraptures +you." + +"What do you think enraptures me?" she wished to know. + +"The certainty," he replied, "that nothing will." + +She waited a while, then said, "Yes, you are right. I don't want +anything else to happen." + +"You have everything you want, here in the house. Safe to hand! Your +Lancelot in bed, your James at cards, and myself at the window. +Wonderful! And you are contented?" + +"Yes, yes. I ask so little, you see. But you despise me for it." + +"God forbid. I promised you that you shouldn't repent this trip. And +you don't, I hope?" + +Her eyes were wide open and serious. "No, indeed. I never expected to +be so happy as this. It never happened to me before." She had no +compunctions at all--but he was in the fatuous stage, drugged by his +own imaginings. + +"That's good. Shall we go down to the water?" + +"I think we might," she said, not daring to look back into the room, +lest he should think that she feared him. + +They strolled leisurely through the wood, she in a soft rapture of +delight at the still grey beauty of the night; Urquhart in a state of +mind bordering upon frenzy. He gripped himself by both hands to make +sure of the mastery. What gave him conviction was his constant sense +of Lucy's innocency. This beautiful woman had the heart of a child and +the patience of the mother of a god. To shock the one or gibe at the +other were a blasphemy he simply couldn't contemplate. What then was +to be the end of it? He didn't know; he didn't care. She loved him, +he believed; she had kissed him, therefore she must love him. Such +women don't give their lips without their hearts. But then she had +been scared, and had cried off? Well, that, too, he seemed to +understand. That was where her sense of law came in. He could not but +remember that it would have come in before, had she known who her +lover was. As things fell out, she slipped into love without knowing +it. The moment she had known it, she withdrew to the shadow of her +hearth. That was his Lucy all over. _His_ Lucy? Yes, for that wasn't +the Solicitor's Lucy--if, indeed, the solicitor had a Lucy. But had +he? A little weakness of Urquhart's was to pride himself on being a +man of whims, and to suppose such twists of the mind his unique +possession. All indeed that he had of unique was this, that he +invariably yielded to his whims; whereas other people did not. + +However, he set a watch upon himself on this night of witchery, and +succeeded perfectly. They talked leisurely and quietly--of anything or +nothing; the desultory, fragmentary interjections of comment which +pass easily between intimates. Lucy's share was replete with soft +wonderings at the beauty of the world. Neither of them answered the +other. + +Under the birch-trees it was light, but very damp. He wouldn't allow +her to stop there, but bade her higher up the hillside. There were +pines there which were always dry. "Wait you there," he said; "I'm +going back to get you a wrap." She would have stopped him, but he had +gone. + +Urquhart, walking up sharply to the house, was not at all prepared for +Macartney walking as sharply down from it. In fact, he was very much +put out, and the more so because from the first James took the upper +hand. + +"Hulloa," said the lord of the eyeglass. + +"Hulloa, yourself," said Urquhart, and stopped, which he need not have +done, seeing that Macartney with complete nonchalance continued his +walk. + +"Seen my wife anywhere?" came from over his shoulder. Urquhart turned +on his heels. "Yes," he said, and walked on. + +There was an end of one, two and three--as the rhyme goes. Urquhart +was hot with rage. That bland, blundering fool, that glasshouse, that +damned supercilious ass: all this and more he cried upon James. He +scorned him for his jealousy; he cursed him for it; he vowed that he +would carry her off before his very eyes. "Let her give the word, lift +an eyebrow, and I take her across the world." And the lad too, bless +him. What did the quill-driver want of them but credit? Damn him, he +hung them up in his house, as tradesmen use the royal arms. He baited +for his deans and chapters with them. He walked far into the night in +a passion of anger. It never once occurred to him that James was a +rival. And there he was right. + +He thought that Urquhart had certainly been with Lucy; he knew that he +was in love with her; but oddly enough that stimulated instead of +quelled him. It enhanced her. It made her love worth keeping. He had a +great respect, in his heart of hearts, for Urquhart's validity in a +world of action which certainly comprehended the taking and keeping of +hearts. Now he came to think of it, he must confess that he had never +loved Lucy as he did now until he had observed that so redoubtable a +champion was in the lists against him. Odd thing! He had been jealous +of Francis Lingen, as he now was of Urquhart; but it was the latter +jealousy which had made him desire Lucy. The former had simply +disgusted him, the latter had spurred him to rivalry--and now to main +desire. James was no philosopher; he had an idle mind except in the +conduct of his business. He could not attempt, then, to explain his +state of mind--but he was very much interested. Soon he saw her in the +dusk under the pines: a slim white shape, standing with one hand upon +the trunk of a tree. Her back was towards him; she did not turn. + +She supposed that it was Urquhart come back, and was careful not to +seem waiting for him. "How quick you have been!" she said lightly, and +stood where she was. No answer was returned. Then came a shock indeed, +and her head seemed to flood with fear. Two hands from behind her +covered her eyes; her head was drawn gently back, and she was kissed +ardently on the lips. She struggled wildly; she broke away. "Oh!" she +said, half sobbing. "Oh, how cruel you are--how cruel! How could you +dare to do it?" And then, free of the hands, she turned upon +Urquhart--and saw James. "Oh, my love!" she said, and ran to him and +broke into tears. + +James had secured his eyeglass, but now let it drop. He allowed her to +cry her fill, and then made the best of a rather bad business. "If +every man who kissed his wife," said he, "was answered like that, lips +would go dry." + +She said through her tears, "You see, I thought you were Mr. Urquhart +with my wrap." + +"Oh, the dickens you did," said James. "And is that how Mr. Urquhart +usually brings you a wrap?" + +She clung to him. "Well, no. If he did, I suppose I shouldn't have +been so angry--by this time." + +"That's a very good answer," James allowed. "I'll only make one +comment upon it. You cried out upon the cruelty of the attack. Now if +it had been--assume it for the moment--our--well, friend, let us say, +why would it have been cruel of him? Shameful, flagrant, audacious, +impudent, insolent, all that I can understand. But cruel, Lucy?" + +Lucy's cheek was upon his shoulder, and she let it stay there, even +while she answered. The moment was serious. She must tell him as much +as she dared. Certain things seemed out of the question; but something +she must tell him. + +"You see, James," she said, "I think Mr. Urquhart is fond of me--in +fact, I'm sure of it--" + +"Has he told you so?" + +"Not in so many words--but--" + +"But in so many other words, eh? Well, pursue." + +"And I told him that I couldn't possibly join the party--on that +account." + +"Did you tell him it was on that account?" + +"No," said Lucy, "I didn't; but he understood that. I know he +understood it, because he immediately said that if I would come I +shouldn't repent it. And I haven't. He has never made me feel +uncomfortable. But just now--when I was expecting him--oh, it seemed +to me quite horrible--and I was furious with him." + +"You were indeed. It didn't occur to you that it might have +been--well, somebody with more right." + +Her arm tightened, but she said nothing. The unconscious James went +on. "I was wrong. A man has no right to kiss a woman unawares--in the +dark. Even if it's his wife. She'll always want to know who it was, +and she's bound to find out. And he'll get no thanks for it, either." +Then it became necessary for Lucy to thank him. + +"Mind you, my dear," he told her. "I have no quarrel with Jimmy +Urquhart up to now. You say he's in love with you, and I think that +he is. I've thought so for some time, and I confess that I didn't +relish the idea that he should be out here with us. But since we are +in for confessions I'll make one more. If he hadn't been in love with +you I don't believe that I should be--as I am now." + +Lucy laughed--the laugh of a woman rich. "Then I'm very much obliged +to him," she said. + +But Urquhart was harder to convince than James. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +FAIR WARNING + + +Vera Nugent, a brisk woman of the world, with a fondness for vivid +clothing and a Spanish air which went oddly with it, took the trouble +one fine day to tackle her brother. "Look here, Jimmy," she said as +they breasted a mountain pass, "are you quite sure what you are up to +with these people?" + +Urquhart's eyes took a chill tinge--a hard and pebbly stare. "I don't +know what you mean," he said. + +"Men always say that, especially when they know very well. Of course I +mean the Macartneys. You didn't suppose I was thinking of the +Poplolly?" The Poplolly, I regret to say, was Francis Lingen, whom +Vera abhorred. The term was opprobrious, and inexact. + +But Urquhart shrouded himself in ice. "Perhaps you might explain +yourself," he said. + +Vera was not at all sure that she would. "You make it almost +impossible, you know." + +They were all out in a party, and were to meet the luncheon and the +boys, who had gone round in the boat. As parties will have it, they +had soon scattered. Lingen had taken Margery Dacre to himself, Lucy +was with her husband. Urquhart, now he came to think of it, began to +understand that the sceptre was out of his hands. The pass, worn out +of the shelving rock by centuries of foot-work, wound itself about +the breasting cliffs like a scarf; below them lay the silver fiord, +and upon that, a mere speck, they could see the motor-boat, with a +wake widening out behind her like parallel lines of railway. + +Urquhart saw in his mind that he would be a fool to quarrel with Vera. +She was not on his side, he could feel; but he didn't despair of her. +One way of putting her off him forever was to allow her to think him a +fool. That he could not afford. + +"Don't turn against me for a mannerism, my dear," he said. + +"I turn against you, if at all, for a lack of mannerism," said Vera +briskly. "It's too bad of you. Here I am as so much ballast for your +party, and when I begin to make myself useful, you pretend I'm not +there. But I _am_ there, you know." + +"I was cross," he said, "because I'm rather worried, and I thought you +were going to worry me more." + +"Well, maybe that I am,"--she admitted that. "But I don't like to see +a sharp-faced man make a donkey of himself. The credit of the family +is at stake." + +He laughed. "I wouldn't be the first of us--and this wouldn't be the +first time. There's whimsy in the blood. Well--out with it. Let me +know the worst." + +Vera stopped. "I intend to do it sitting. We've heaps of time. None of +the others want us." + +Urquhart hit the rock with his staff. "That's the point, my child. Do +they--or don't they?" + +"You believe," Vera said, "that Lucy is in love with you." + +Urquhart replied, "I know that she was." + +"There you have the pull over me," she answered. "I haven't either +your confidence or hers. All I can tell you is that now she isn't." +Urquhart was all attention. "Do you mean, she has told you anything?" + +"Good Heavens," Vera scoffed, "what do you take me for? Do you think I +don't know by the looks of her? If you weren't infatuated you'd know +better than I do." + +"My dear girl," Urquhart said, with a straight look at her, "the fact +is, I am infatuated." + +"I'm sorry for you. You've made a mess of it. But I must say that I'm +not at all sorry for her. Don't you suppose that she is the sort to +find the world well lost for your _beaux yeux_. Far from that. She'd +wilt like a rose in a window-box." + +"I'd take her into fairy-land," said Urquhart. "She should walk in the +dawn. She wouldn't feel her feet." + +"She would if they were damp," said Vera, who could be as direct as +you please. "If you think she's a wood nymph in a cage, you're very +much mistaken. She's very domestic." + +"I know," said the infatuate, "that I touched her." Vera tossed her +head. + +"I'll be bound you did. You aren't the first man to light a fire. +That's what you did. You lit a fire for Macartney to warm his hand at. +She's awfully in love with him." + +Urquhart grew red. "That's not probable," he said. + +Vera said, "It's certain. Perhaps you'll take the trouble to satisfy +yourself before you take tickets for fairy-land. It's an expensive +journey, I believe. Had you thought what you would be doing about +Lancelot--a very nice boy?" + +"No details had been arranged," said Urquhart, in his very annoying +way. + +"Not even that of the lady's inclinations, it appears. Well, I've +warned you. I've done it with the best intentions. I suppose even you +won't deny that I'm single-minded? I'm not on the side of your +solicitor." That made Urquhart very angry. + +"I'm much obliged to you, my dear. We'll leave my solicitor out of +account for the moment." But that nettled Vera, who flamed. + +"Upon my word, Jimmy, you are too sublime. You can't dispose of people +quite like that. How are you to leave him out of account, when you +brought his wife into it? If you ever supposed that Macartney was +nothing but a solicitor, you were never more mistaken in your +life--except when you thought that Lucy was a possible law-breaker." + +At the moment, and from where they stood, the sea-scape and the +coast-road stood revealed before and behind them for many a league. In +front it descended by sharp spirals to a river-bed. Vera Nugent +standing there, her chin upon her hands, her hands upon her staff, +could see straight below her feet two absorbed couples, as it were on +different grades of the scene. In the first the fair Margery Dacre +leaned against a rock while Lingen, on his knees, tied her shoestring; +at a lower level yet Macartney, having handed his Lucy over a torrent, +stooped his head to receive his tribute. Vera, who had a grain of pity +in her, hoped that Urquhart had been spared; but whether he was or not +she never knew. No signs of disturbance were upon him at the ensuing +picnic, unless his treatment of Macartney--with a kind of humorous +savagery--betrayed him. They talked of the Folgefond, that mighty +snow-field beyond the fiord which the three men intended to traverse +in a day or two's time. + +"Brace yourself, my friend," Urquhart said. "Hearts have been broken +on that ground before now." + +James said that he had made his peace with God--but Lucy looked +full-eyed and serious. + +"I never know when you are laughing at us," she said to Urquhart. + +"Be sure that I have never laughed at you in my life," he said across +the table-cloth. + +"He laughs at me," said James behind his eyeglass; "but I defy him. +The man who can laugh at himself is the man I envy. Now I never could +do that." + +"You've hit me in a vital spot," Urquhart said. "That's my little +weakness; and that's why I've never succeeded in anything--even in +breaking my neck." + +Lancelot nudged his friend Patrick. "Do you twig that?" + +Patrick blinked, having his mouth too full to nod conveniently. + +"Can't drive a motor, I suppose! Can't fly--I don't think." + +"As to breaking your neck," said James, "there's still a chance for +you." + +"I shall make a mess of it," Urquhart retorted. + +"Is this going to be a neck-breaking expedition?" That was from +Lingen, who now had an object in life. + +"I never said so," Urquhart told him. "I said heart-breaking--a far +simpler affair." + +"What is going to break your heart in it, please?" Lucy asked him. +She saw that there lay something behind his rattle. + +"Well," said Urquhart, brazening it out, "it would break mine to get +over the snow-field--some eight miles of it, there are--and to find +that I couldn't get down. That might easily happen." + +"And what would you do?" + +James fixed her with his eyeglass. "That's where the neck-breaking +might intervene," he said. "Jimmy would rather risk his neck any day." + +"Than his heart!" + +"Heart!" said Vera. "No such thing. Quite another organ. It's a case +of dinner. He'd risk his neck for a dinner, and so would any man." + +"I believe you are right," said James. + +Lucy with very bright eyes looked from one to the other of her lovers. +Each wore a mask. She determined to ask James to give up the +Folgefond, discerning trouble in the air. + +They went home by water, and Lancelot added his unconscious testimony. +He was between Urquhart's knees, his hand upon the tiller, his mood +confidential. + +"I say--" he began, and Urquhart encouraged him to say on. + +--"It's slightly important, but I suppose I couldn't do the Folgefond +by any chance?" + +"You are saying a good deal," said Urquhart. "I'll put it like this, +that by some chance you might, but by no chance in the world could +Patrick." + +"Hoo!" said Lancelot, "and why not, pray?" + +"His mother would put her foot on it. Splosh! it would go like a +cockroach." + +"I know," said dreamy Lancelot. "That's what would happen to me, I +expect." Then he added, "That's what will happen to my father." + +"Good cockroach," said Urquhart, looking ahead of him. "You think she +won't want him to go." + +Lancelot snorted. "_Won't_ want him! Why, she doesn't already. And +he'll do what she wants, I'll bet you." + +"Does he always?" + +"He always does now. It's the air, I fancy." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE DEPARTURE + + +But pout as she might, she could not prevail with James, whose vanity +had been scratched. + +"My dear girl, I'd sooner perish," he said. "Give up a jolly walk +because Jimmy Urquhart talks about my heart and his own +neck--preposterous! Besides, there's nothing in it." + +"But, James," she said, "if I ask you--" + +He kissed the back of her neck. She was before the glass, busy with +her hair. "You don't ask me. You wouldn't ask me. No woman wants to +make a fool of a man. If she does, she's a vampire." + +"Mr. Urquhart is very impulsive," she dared to say. + +"I've known that for a long time," said James. "Longer than you have, +I fancy. But it takes more than impulse to break another man's neck. +Besides, I really have no reason to suppose that he wants to break my +neck. Why should he?" + +Here they were up against the wall again. If there were reasons, he +could not know them. There was no getting over it yet. They were to +start betimes in the morning, and sleep that night at Brattebo, which +is the hithermost spur of the chain. Dinner and beds had been ordered +at Odde, beyond the snow-field. + +Dinner was a gay affair. They toasted the now declared lovers. True to +his cornering instincts, Lingen had told Lucy all about it in the +afternoon. "Your sympathy means so much to me--and Margery, whose mind +is exquisitely sensitive, is only waiting your nod to be at your feet, +with me." + +"I should be very sorry to see either of you there," Lucy said. "I'm +very fond of her and I shouldn't take it at all kindly if she demeaned +herself. When do you think of marrying?" + +He looked at her appealingly. "I must have time," he said; "time to +build the nest." + +"A flat, I suppose," she said, declining such poetical flights. + +"A flat!" said Francis Lingen. "Really, it hadn't occurred to me." + +From Lucy the news went abroad, and so the dinner was gay. Urquhart +confined himself to the two boys, and told them about the +Folgefond--of its unknown depth, of the crevasses, of the glacier on +its western edge, of certain white snakes, bred by the snow, which +might be found there. Their bite was death, he said. + +"Frost-bite," said Patrick Nugent, who knew his uncle's way; but +Lancelot favoured his mother. + +"Hoo!" he said. "I expect that you'd give him what for. One blow of +your sword and his head would lie at your feet." + +"That's nasty, too," said Urquhart. "They have white blood, I +believe." Lancelot blinked. + +"Beastly," he said. "Did Mamma hear you? You'd better not tell her. +She hates whiteness. Secretly--so do I, rather." + +It was afterwards, when the boys had gone to bed, that a seriousness +fell upon those of them who were given to seriousness. James and Vera +Nugent settled down squarely to piquet. Francis Lingen murmured to his +affianced bride. + +"I don't disguise from myself--and from you I can have no +secrets--that there is danger in the walk. The snow is very +treacherous at this season. We take ropes, of course. Urquhart is said +to know the place; but Urquhart is--" + +"He's very fascinating," said Margery Dacre, and Francis lifted his +eyebrows. + +"You find that? Then I am distressed. I would share everything with +you if I could. To me, I don't know why, there is something +crude--some harsh note--a clangour of metal. I find him brazen--at +times. But to you, my love, who could be strident? You are the very +home of peace. When I think of you I think of doves in a nest." + +"You must think of me to-morrow, then," said Margery. He rewarded her +with a look. + +Lucy, for her part, had another sort of danger in her mind. It seemed +absolutely necessary to her now to speak to Urquhart, because she had +a conviction that he and James had very nearly come to grips. Women +are very sharp at these things. She was certain that Urquhart knew the +state of her heart, just as certain as if she had told him of it. That +being so, she dreaded his impulse. She suspected him of savagery, and +as she had no pride where love was concerned she intended to appeal to +him. Modesty she had, but no pride. She must leave great blanks in her +discourse; but she trusted him to fill them up. Then there was +another difficulty. She had no remains of tenderness left for him: not +a filament. Unless she went warily he might find that out and be +mortally offended. All this she battled with while the good-nights to +Lancelot were saying upstairs. She kissed his forehead, and stood over +him for a moment while he snuggled into his blankets. "Oh, my lamb, +you are worth fighting for!" was her last thought, as she went +downstairs full of her purpose. + +The card-players sat in the recess; the lovers were outside. Urquhart +was by himself on a divan. She thought that he was waiting for her. + +With a book for shield against the lamp she took the chair he offered +her. "Aren't they extraordinary?" she said. He questioned. + +"Who is extraordinary? Do you mean the card-sharpers? Not at all. It's +meat and drink to them. It's we who are out of the common: daintier +feeders." + +"No," she said, "it's not quite that. James's strong point is that he +can keep his feelings in separate pigeonholes. I'm simply quaking with +fear, because my imagination has flooded me. But he won't think about +the risks he's running--until he is running them." + +Urquhart had been looking at her until he discovered that James had +his eye upon her too. He crossed his leg and clasped the knee of it; +he looked fixedly at the ceiling as he spoke. + +"I should like to know what it is you're afraid of," he said in a +carefully literal but carefully inaudible tone. He did that sort of +thing very well. + +Lucy was pinching her lip. "All sorts of things," she said. "I suffer +from presentiments. I think that you or James may be hurt, for +instance--" + +"Do you mean," said Urquhart--as if he had been saying "Where did you +get this tobacco?"--"Do you mean that you're afraid we may hurt each +other?" + +She hung her head deeply. + +"You needn't be. If you can fear that you must forget my promise." He +saw her eyes clear, then cloud again before her difficulties. + +"James, at least," she said, "has never done you any harm." It was +awfully true. But it annoyed him. Damn James! + +"None whatever," he answered sharply. "I wonder if I haven't done him +any good." + +Looking at her guardedly, through half-closed eyes, he saw that she +was strongly moved. Her bosom rose and fell hastily, like short waves +lipping a wharf. Her hands were shut tight. "You have been the best +friend I ever had," she said. "Don't think I'm not grateful." + +That came better. He tapped his pipe on the ash-tray at hand. "My +dear," he said, "I intend to live on your gratitude. Don't be afraid +of anything. _Lascia fare a me._" She rewarded him with a shy look. A +rueful look, it cut him like a knife; but he could have screwed it +round in the wound to get more of such pain. There's no more +bitter-sweet torment to a man than the thanks of the beloved woman for +her freedom given back to her. + +He felt very sick indeed--but almost entirely with himself. For her he +chose to have pity; of Macartney he would not allow himself to think +at all. Danger lay that way, and he did not intend to be dangerous. He +would not even remember that he was subject to whims. The thought +flitted over his mind, like an angel of death, but he dismissed it +with an effort. After all, what good could come of freebooting? The +game was up. Like all men of his stamp, he cast about him far and wide +for a line of action; for directly the Folgefond walk was over he +would be off. To stay here was intolerable--just as to back out of the +walk would be ignominious. No, he would go through with that somehow; +but from Odde, he thought, he might send for his things and clear out. +It did not occur to him that he might have to deal with Macartney. +What should Macartney want that he had not? He had vindicated the law! + +But the hour was come when Macartney was to know everything. Lucy was +adorable, and he simply adored her; then in the melting mood which +follows she sobbed and whispered her broken confession. He had the +whole story from the beginning. + +He listened and learned; he was confounded, he was deeply touched. He +might have been humiliated, and so frozen; he might have been +offended, and so bitter; but he was neither. Her tears, her sobs, her +clinging, her burning cheeks, the flood of her words, or the sudden +ebb which left her speechless--all this taught him what he might be to +a woman who dared give him so much. He said very little himself, and +exacted the last dregs from her cup. He drank it down like a thirsty +horse. Probably it was as sweet for him to drink as for her to pour; +for love is a strange affair and can be its own poison and antidote. + +At the end he forgot his magnanimity, so great was his need of hers. +"You have opened my eyes to my own fatuity. You have made me what I +never thought I could be. I am your lover--do you know that? And I +have been your husband for how long? Your husband, Lucy, and now your +lover. Never let these things trouble you any more." + +She clung to him with passion. "I love you," she said. "I adore you. +If I've been wicked, it was to prove you good to me, and to crush me +to the earth. Love me again--I am yours forever." + +Later she was able to talk freely to him, as of a thing past and done. +"It's very odd; I can't understand it. You didn't begin to love me +until he did, and then you loved me for what he saw in me. Isn't that +true?" + +"I couldn't tell you," he said, "because I don't know what he did +see." + +"He thought I was pretty--" + +"So you are--" + +"He thought that I liked to be noticed--" + +"Well, and you do--" + +"Of course. But it never struck you." + +"No--fool that I was." + +"I love you for your foolishness." + +"Yes, but you didn't." + +"No," she said quickly. "No! because you wouldn't allow it. You must +let women love before you can expect them to be meek." + +He laughed. "Do you intend to be meek?" + +Then it was her turn to laugh. "I should think I did! That's my pride +and joy. You may do what you like now." + +He found that a hard saying; but it is a very true one. + +The departure was made early. Lucy came down to breakfast, and the +boys; but Margery Dacre did not appear. Vera of course did not. Noon +was her time. The boys were to cross the fiord with them and return in +the boat. Lucy would not go, seeing what was the matter with Urquhart. + +Urquhart indeed was in a parlous frame of mind. He was very grim to +all but the boys. He was to them what he had always been. Polite and +very quiet in his ways with Lucy, he had no word for either of his +companions. James treated him with deference; Francis Lingen, who felt +himself despised, was depressed. + +"Jolly party!" said Lancelot, really meaning it, and made Urquhart +laugh. But Lucy shuddered at such a laugh. She thought of the wolves +in the Zoological Gardens when at sundown they greet the night. It +made her blood feel cold in her veins. + +"If no one's going to enjoy himself, why does anybody go?" she said at +a venture. James protested that he was going to enjoy himself +prodigiously. As for Lingen, he said, it would do him no end of good. + +"I jolly well wish I could go," was Lancelot's fishing shot, and Lucy, +who was really sorry for Urquhart, was tempted to urge it. But James +would not have heard of such a thing, she knew. + +Then they went, with a great deal of fuss and bustle. James, a great +stickler for the conventions, patted her shoulder for all good-bye. +Urquhart waited his chance. + +"Good-bye, my dear," he said. "I've had my innings here. You won't see +me again, I expect. I ask your pardon for many things--but I believe +that we are pretty well quits. Trust me with your James, won't you? +Good-bye." He asked her that to secure himself against whims. + +She could do no more than give him her hand. He kissed it, and left +her. The boat was pushed out. Urquhart took the helm, with Lancelot in +the crook of his arm. He turned once and waved his cap. + +"There goes a man any woman could love," she told herself. If she had +a regret she had it not long. "Some natural tears they shed, but dried +them soon." + +They made a good landing, bestowed their gear in a cart, and set out +for a long climb to Brattebo, which they reached in the late +afternoon--a lonely farm on the side of a naked hill. They slept +there, and were to rise at four for the snow-field. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +CATASTROPHE + + +They were up and away before the light, taking only one guide with +them, a sinewy, dark man with a clubbed beard on his chin. If they had +had two it had been better, and Urquhart, who knew that, made a great +fuss; but to no purpose. All the men were at the saeters, they were +told; haymaking was in full swing out there. There was nothing to be +done. Urquhart was put out, and in default of another man of sense +made James his partner in griefs. "I know these chaps," he said. "When +they are alone they lose their heads. The least little difficulty, +they shy off and turn for home. I judge this man of ours to have the +heart of a mouse. He don't want to go at all. If there are two of them +they egg each other on. They talk it over. Each tries to be the bolder +man." + +"But is there going to be any difficulty?" James enquired, surveying +the waste through his eyeglass. "I don't see why there should be." + +"You never know," Urquhart said curtly; but presently he was more +confidential. "Don't tell that ass Lingen; but it might be quite +difficult to get off this place." + +James stared about him. "You know best. But is it harder to get off +than on?" + +"Of course it is, my dear chap," said Urquhart, quite in his old vein +of good-tempered scorn. "We are going up on the north side, where the +snow is as hard as a brick." + +"Ah," said James, "now I see. And we go down on the south, where it's +as soft--" + +"Where it may be as soft as a bran-mash. Or blown over into cornices." + +James saw, or said that he did. In his private mind he judged Urquhart +of trying to intimidate him. The vice of the expert! But he noticed +that the guide had a coil of rope, and that Urquhart carried a shovel. + +It was easy going until near noon, with no snow to speak about. They +climbed a series of ridges, like frozen waves; but each was higher +than the last, and took them closer to the clouds. When they lunched +under the shelter of some tumbled rocks a drifting rain blew across +the desolation. + +"Jolly!" said James, but quite happily. Lingen shivered. + +"My dear man," said Urquhart, "just you wait. I'll surprise you in a +quarter of an hour's time." He spoke in his old way, as hectoring whom +he tolerated. James noticed it, and was amused. He hadn't yet had time +to be angry with this rascal; and now he began to doubt whether he +should. After all, he had gained so very much more than he had lost. +Honour? Oh, that be jiggered. Something too much of his own honour. +Why, it was through Urquhart's attack upon Lucy that he had found out +what Lucy was. Urquhart, at this time, was marching rather in front of +him: James looked him over. A hardy, impudent rogue, no doubt--with +that square, small head on him, that jutting chin--and his pair of +blue eyes which would look through any woman born and burn her heart +to water. Yes, and so he had had Lucy's heart--as water to be poured +over his feet. By Heaven, when he thought of it, he, James Adolphus, +had been the greater rogue: to play the Grand Turk; to hoard that +lovely, quivering creature in his still seraglio; to turn the key, and +leave her there! And Jimmy Urquhart got in by the window. Of course +he did. He was not an imaginative man by nature; but he was now a +lover and had need to enhance his mistress. How better do that than by +calling himself a d----d fool (the greatest blame he knew)? It follows +that if he had been a fool, Urquhart had not! Impudent dog, if you +like, but not a fool. Now, for the life of him, James could not +despise a man who was not a fool. Nor could he hate one whom he had +bested. He did not hate Urquhart; he wasn't angry with him; he +couldn't despise him. On the contrary, he was sorry for him. + +But now the miracle happened, and one could think of nothing else. As +they tramped through the cold mist, over snow that was still crisp and +short with frost, the light gained by degrees. The flying fog became +blue, then radiant: quite suddenly they burst into the sun. The +dazzling field stretched on all sides so far as the eye could see. +Snow and cloud, one could not distinguish them; and above them the +arch of hyaline, a blue interwoven with light, which throbbed to the +point of utterance, and drowned itself in the photo-sphere. The light +seemed to make the sun, to climb towards the zenith, to mass and then +to burst in flame. All three men took it in, each in his fashion. +Lingen was greatly moved; Urquhart became jocular. + +"Well," he said to Macartney, "what do you make of that? That's worth +coming up for. That ought to extenuate a good deal." James was quick +to notice the phrase. + +"Oh," he said, "you can show me things. I'm very much obliged to you. +This is a wonder of the world." + +"Now what the deuce does he mean by that?" Urquhart thought to +himself. Had Lucy told him anything? He didn't believe it. Impossible. +Women don't tell. + +They had seven miles of snow, pretty soft by now, and steadily up +hill. They bent themselves seriously to it, and found no occasion for +talk. There were crevasses--green depths of death--to be avoided. +Their guide, light-eyed for scares, seemed to know them all, and +reserved his alarm for signs in the sky invisible to the party. He +mended the pace, which became rather severe. Francis Lingen was +distressed; Macartney kept back to give him company. Urquhart forged +on ahead with the guide. + +By four in the afternoon one at least of them was gruelled. That was +Lingen. "If we don't get down after all, it'll go hard with +Poplolly," Urquhart said to James. James replied, "Oh, we must get +down. That's all nonsense." Urquhart said nothing, and they went on. + +They reached a point where their guide, stopping for a moment, looked +back at them and pointed forward with his staff. "Odde is over there," +he said, and Urquhart added that he knew whereabouts they were. "If it +were clear enough," he told them, "you might see it all lying below +you like a map; but I doubt if you'll see anything." They pushed on. + +Before the last slope, which was now close at hand, the ground became +very bad. The crevasses showed in every direction, raying out like +cracks on an old bench. The guide was evidently anxious. He gave up +all appearance of conducting his party and went off rapidly by +himself. They waited for him in silence; but presently Urquhart said, +"I bet you any money he won't want to go down." + +"Don't he want to dine as much as we do?" said James. + +"He doesn't want to break his neck," said Urquhart; "that's his little +weakness." + +"I sympathise with him," James said; "but I should like to know more +before I turn back." + +"You'll only know what he chooses to tell you," Urquhart answered. +Lingen was sitting on the snow. + +The guide came back with firm steps. His eyes sought Urquhart's +naturally. + +"Well?" he was asked; and lifted his stock up. + +"Impossible," he said. + +"Why impossible?" James asked Urquhart, having none of the language, +but guessing at the word. + +Urquhart and the man talked; the latter was eloquent. + +"He says," Urquhart told them, "that there's a great cornice, and a +drop of forty feet or so. Then he thinks there's another; but he's not +sure of that. He intends to go back. I knew he did before he went out +to look. It's a beastly nuisance." + +James looked at Lingen, who was now on his feet. "Well," he said, +"what do you feel about it?" + +Lingen, red in the face, said, "You'll excuse me, but I shall do what +the guide proposes, though I admit to great fatigue. I don't think it +would be right, under the circumstances, to do otherwise. I feel a +great responsibility; but I gather that, in any case, he himself would +decline to go down. You will think me timid, I dare say." + +"No, no," James said. "That's all right, of course. Personally, I +should be inclined to try the first cornice anyhow. There's always a +chance, you know." + +Urquhart looked at him keenly. "Do you mean that?" he asked him. + +"Yes," James said. "Why do you ask?" Urquhart turned away. When he +faced James again he was strangely altered. His eyes were narrower; +lines showed beside his mouth. Temptation was hot in the mouth. "We'd +better talk about it," he said, and jerked his head sideways. + +James walked with him a little way. "What's all this mystery?" he +asked. + +"I wonder if you know what you are doing," Urquhart said; "I wonder if +you know what this means. Do you know, for instance, that I don't care +a damn whether I break my neck or not, and on the whole would rather +that you did than didn't? You ought to know it. But I'm asking you." + +James kept his eyeglass to his eye. "I think you are talking +nonsense," he said, "but I don't suppose you intend it for nonsense. +You inspire me to say, taking you on your face value, that I shall try +the first cornice. If it's a forty-foot drop, we ought to have rope +enough." + +Urquhart peered at him. "You mean what you say?" + +"Certainly I do." Urquhart turned on his heel. + +"All right," he said, and went over to the other two. + +"Macartney and I are going down," he said to Lingen. "I don't at all +blame you for going back, but I'll trouble you to see that this man +does the needful to-morrow. The needful is to come out here as early +as he can get over the ground, to see if we want him. He had better +fire a gun, or shout. If we are alive we shall answer him. If we don't +answer, he had better see about it. I don't want to scare you, but +this is not a joke, and I can't afford to be misunderstood. Now I'm +going to tell him all that in his own lingo." + +Lingen took it very badly; but said nothing. Urquhart spoke vehemently +to the guide, who raised his staff and appeared to be testifying to +Heaven. He handed over the rope, the shovel, and the kit with an air +of Pilate washing his hands. + +"Now," Urquhart said to James, "we'll rope, and see if we can cut some +steps through this thing. I've seen that done." James, dropping his +eyeglass, said that he was in his hands. Everybody was quiet, but they +were all in a hurry. + +Lingen came up to say good-bye. He was very much distressed, nearly +crying. The guide, on the other hand, was chafing to be off. "If that +chap calls himself a guide," said Urquhart, "he ought to be shot." The +guide thereupon threw up his hands with a gesture of despair. Lingen +said that he couldn't possibly go until he had seen them down. The +guide, who was sullen and nervous, remained to help them. Even that +seemed to be against his convictions. + +They fixed one of the stocks in a crevasse; Urquhart roped. Then he +went forward to the edge, or what seemed to be the edge, and having +crawled on his belly so far as to be almost invisible, presently was +seen to be standing up, then to fall to it with the shovel. He seemed +to be cutting steps, and descending as he worked. Gradually he +disappeared, and the pull on the rope began. They paid out cautiously +and regularly--all seemed well. He might have had twenty feet of it; +and then there was a sudden violent wrench at it, and it came back +limp in Macartney's hands. + +"He's gone," he said. Then he shouted with all his might. No answer +came. They all shouted; the echoes rang round the waste, driven back +on them from the hidden mountain tops. In the deathlike hush which +followed one of them thought to hear an answering cry. Lingen heard +it, or thought that he did, and began to haul up the rope. When they +had the end of it in their hands it was found to be cut clean. "He did +that himself," James said, then added, "I'm going down. Give me out +this rope--for what it's worth." To Lingen he said, "Get back as quick +as you can, and bring up some men to-morrow." Then, having secured +himself, he went down the flawless snow slope, and they paid out the +cord as he wanted it. He had no particular sensation of fear; he knew +too little about it to have any. It is imaginative men who fear the +unknown. True, the rope had been cut once, and might have to be cut +again. If Urquhart had had to cut, it was because it had been too +short. And now it would be shorter. But there was no time to think of +anything. + +The snow seemed to be holding him. He had got far beyond Urquhart's +ledges, was upon the place where Urquhart must have slid rapidly down. +All was well as yet, but he didn't want to overshoot the mark. He kept +his nerve steady, and tried to work it all out in his mind. If this +were really a cornice it must now be very thin, he thought. He drove +at it with his staff, and found that it was so. It was little more +than a frozen crust. He kicked into it with his feet, got a foothold, +and worked the hole bigger. Then he could peer down into the deep, +where the shadows were intensely blue. It looked a fearful drop; but +he saw Urquhart lying there, and went on. He descended some ten, or +perhaps fifteen feet more, and found himself dangling in the air. He +was at the end of the rope then. "I'll risk it," he said, and got his +knife out. + +He dropped within a few yards of Urquhart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +JAMES AND JIMMY + + +Macartney found him lying very still; nothing, in fact, seemed to be +alive but his eyes, which were wide open and missed nothing. + +"You're hurt, I'm afraid. Can you tell me anything?" + +Urquhart spoke in a curiously level tone. It seemed to give +impartiality to what he said, as if he had been discussing the +troubles of a man he hardly knew. + +"Back broken, I believe. Anyhow, I can't feel anything. I'm sorry you +came down after me." + +"My dear fellow," said James, "what do you take me for?" + +Those bright, all-seeing, steady eyes were fixed upon him. They had +the air of knowing everything. + +"Well, you knew what I _did_ take you for, anyhow, and so it would +have been reasonable--" + +"We won't talk about all that," James said. "Let me cover you up with +something--and then I'll see what can be done about moving you." + +Urquhart spoke indifferently about that. "I doubt if you can get +down--and it's a good step to Odde. Four hours, I dare say." + +"Yes, but there would be a house nearer than Odde. If I could get some +bearers--we'd get you comfortable before dark." + +"Oh, I'm comfortable enough now," Urquhart said. James thought that a +bad sign. + +He unpacked the rucksacks, got out the brandy-flask, a mackintosh, a +sweater and a cape. "Now, my dear man, I'm going to hurt you, I'm +afraid; but I must have you on a dry bed; and you must drink some of +this liquor. Which will you have first?" + +"The brandy," said Urquhart, "and as soon as you like." + +He helped as much as he could, groaned once or twice, sweated with the +effort; but the thing was done. He lay on the mackintosh, his head on +a rucksack, the cape and sweater over him. Macartney went to the edge +of the plateau to prospect. A billowy sea of white stretched out to a +blue infinity. The clouds had lifted or been vaporised. He could see +nothing of Odde; but he believed that he could make out a thread of +silver, which must be the fiord. It would take him too long to get out +there and back--and yet to stay here! That meant that the pair of them +would die. It is but just to him to say that no alternative presented +itself to him. The pair of them would die? Well, yes. What else was +there? He returned. Urquhart was waiting for him, intensely awake to +everything. + +"Old chap," said James, "that's no go. I didn't try the snow; but I +can judge distances. It's a deuce of a way down, even if there _is_ a +way, and--" + +"It's all right," Urquhart said, "there isn't a way. I'm cornered this +time. But there's just a chance for you--if you work at it. It'll +begin to freeze--in fact, it has begun already. Now if you can find +the shovel, you might employ yourself finely, digging a stairway. +You'll be up by midnight." + +"Never mind about me," James said. "I'm going to keep you warm first." + +But Urquhart was fretting. He frowned and moved his head about. "No, +no, don't begin that. It's not worth it--and I can't have you do it. +You ought to know who I am before you begin the Good Samaritan stunt. +I want to talk to you while I can. I've got a good deal to tell you. +That will be better for me than anything." Jimmy was prepared for +something of the kind. + +"I believe it will," he said. "Go on, then, and get it over." + +It had been his first impulse to assure the poor chap that he knew all +about it; but a right instinct stopped him. He would have to hear it. + +So Urquhart began his plain tale, and as he got into it the contrast +between it and himself became revolting, even to him. A hale man might +have brazened it out with a better air. A little of the romance with +which it had begun, which indeed alone made it tolerable, would have +been about it still. A sicker man than Urquhart, who made a hard death +for himself, would have given up the battle, thrown himself at James's +feet and asked no quarter. Urquhart was not so far gone as that; a +little bluster remained. He did it badly. He didn't mean to be brutal; +he meant to be honest; but it sounded brutal, and James could hardly +endure it. + +He saw, too, as the poor chap went on, that he was getting angry, and +doing himself harm. That was so. Every step he took in his narrative +sharpened the edge of the fate which cut him off. He would have made +a success of it if he could--but he had been really broken before he +broke his back, and the knowledge exasperated him. + +So he took refuge in bluster, made himself out worse than he was, and +in so doing distorted Lucy. James was in torment, remembering what he +must. He felt her arms close about his neck; he felt the rush of her +words: "And oh, darling, I thought it was you--of course I thought +so--and I was proud and happy--that you should like me so much! I +looked at myself in the glass afterwards. I thought, 'You must be +rather pretty.' ..." Oh, Heaven, and this mocking, dying devil, with +his triumphs! + +"Say no more, man, say no more," broke from him. "I understand the +rest. I have nothing to say to you. You did badly--you did me a +wrong--and her too. But it's done with, and she (God bless her!) can +take no harm. How can she? She acted throughout with a pure mind. She +thought that you were me, and when she found that you weren't--well, +well, take your pride in that. I give it up to you. Why shouldn't I? +She gave you her innocent heart. I don't grudge you." + +"You needn't," said Urquhart, "since I'm a dead man. But if I had been +a living one, who knows--?" He laughed bitterly, and stung the other. + +"You forget one thing," said James, with something of his old frozen +calm. "For all that you knew, ten minutes after you had left my house +that day--the first of them--I might have benefited by your act--and +you been none the wiser, nor I any the worse off. And there would have +been an end of it." + +Urquhart considered the point. James could have seen it working in his +poor, wicked, silly mind, but kept his face away. + +"Yes," Urquhart said, "you might; but you didn't." Then he laughed +again--not a pleasant sound. + +"Man," said James indignant, "don't you see? What robs me of utterance +is that I _have_ benefited by what you have done." + +"It's more than you have deserved, in my opinion," Urquhart retorted. +"I'll ask you not to forget that she has loved me, and doesn't blame +me. And I'll ask you not to forget that it is I who am telling you all +this, and not she." It was his last bite. + +The retort was easy, and would have crushed him; but James did not +make it. Let him have his pitiful triumph. He was not angry any more; +he couldn't be--and there was Lucy to be thought of. What would +Urquhart think of a Lucy who could have revealed such things as these? +He would have judged her brazen, little knowing the warm passion of +her tears. Ah, not for him these holy moments. No, let him die +thinking honour of her--honour according to his own code. He put his +hand out and touched Urquhart's face with the back of it. + +"Let us leave it at this," he said; "we both love her. We are neither +of us fit. She would have taken either of us. But I came first, and +then came Lancelot--and she loves the law. Put it no other way." + +"The law, the law!" said the fretful, smitten man. + +"The law of her nature," said James. + +He felt Urquhart's piercing eyes to be upon him and schooled himself +to face them and to smile into them. To his surprise he saw them fill +with tears. + +"You are a good chap," Urquhart said. "I never knew that before." +Macartney blew his nose. + +No more was said, but the sufferer now allowed him to do what he +would. He chafed his hands and arms with brandy; took off his boots +and chafed his feet. He succeeded in getting a certain warmth into +him, and into himself too. He began to be hopeful. + +"I think I shall pull you through," he told him. "You ought to be a +pretty hard case. I suppose you don't know how you came to fall so +badly." + +"Well, I do," Urquhart said. + +"Don't tell me if you'd rather not." + +"Oh, what does it matter now? It was a whim." + +James smiled. "Another whim?" + +"Yes--and another fiasco. You see, in a way, I had dared you to come." + +"I admit that." + +"Well, I hadn't played fair. I knew, and you didn't, that it was a bad +job. You can't get down this way--not when the snow's like this." + +"Oh, can't you?" + +"I think not. Well, I ought to have told you. I was tempted. That's +the worst thing I ever did. I ask your pardon for that." + +"You have it, old chap," said James. + +"You can afford to be magnanimous," Urquhart snapped out fiercely. +"Damn it, you have everything. But I felt badly about it as I was +going down, and I thought, 'They'll feel the break, and know it's all +over. So I cut the painter--do you see?" + +"Yes," said James, "I see." He did indeed see. + +Urquhart began to grow drowsy and to resent interference. He was too +far gone to think of anything but the moment's ease. James, on the +other hand, was entirely absorbed in his patient. "I'm not going to +let you sleep," he said. "It's no good making a fuss. I've got the +kinch on you now." It was as much as he had. The air was biting cold, +and the colder it got the more insistent on sleep Urquhart became. + +James stared about him. Was this the world that he knew? Were kindly +creatures moving about somewhere in it, helping each other? Was Lucy +in this place? Had she lain against his heart two nights ago? Had he +been so blessed? Had life slipped by--and was this the end? Which was +the reality, and which the dream? If both had been real, and this was +the end of men's endeavour--if this were death--if one slipped out in +this cur's way, the tail between the legs--why not end it? He could +sleep himself, he thought. Suppose he lay by this brother cur of his +and slept? Somewhere out beyond this cold there were men by firelight +kissing their wives. Poor chaps, they didn't know the end. This was +the end--loneliness and cold. Yes, but you could sleep!... + + * * * * * + +Suddenly he started, intent and quivering. He had heard a cry. Every +fibre of him claimed life. He listened, breathlessly. Above the +knocking of his own heart he heard it again. No doubt at all. He +turned to Urquhart and shook him. "They are coming--they are +coming--we are going to be saved!" He was violently moved; tears were +streaming down his face. Urquhart, out of those still, aware, +dreadfully intelligent eyes, seemed to see them coming--whoever they +were. He too, and his pitiful broken members, were calling on life. + +James, on his feet, shouted with might and main, and presently was +answered from near at hand. Then he saw Lingen and the guide wading +through the snow. "They have found us," he told Urquhart; "it's +Francis Lingen and the guide. How they've done it I don't pretend to +guess." + +"They've got around the cornice," Urquhart said. "It can be done I +know." He seemed indifferent again, even annoyed again that he +couldn't be allowed to sleep. James thought it a pose, this time. + +Lingen, out of breath but extremely triumphant, met James. + +"Thank God," he said. James with lifted brows waved his head backward +to indicate the sufferer. + +"He's very bad," he said. "How did you get him to come?" He meant the +guide. + +Flaming Lingen said, "I made him. I was desperate. I've never done +such a thing before, but I laid hands on him." + +"You are a brick," said James. + +Lingen said, "It's something to know that you can throttle a man when +you want to badly enough. I hadn't the slightest idea. It's a thing I +never did before. I rather like it." + +Throttled or not, the guide saved the situation. He saved it, +undisguisedly, for his own sake; for he had no zest for helping to +carry a bier over the Folgefond. They made a litter of alpen-stocks +and the mackintosh, and so between them carried Urquhart down the +mountain. No need to dwell on it. They reached the hotel at Odde about +midnight, but halfway to it they found help. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +URQUHART'S APOLOGY + + +Macartney was right when he said to Lucy, in talking over the +adventure, that Urquhart had no moral sense, though she had not then +been convinced. But she was to be convinced before she had done with +him. + +He asked for her repeatedly, and with no regard at all to what had +happened. At last he was told that if he excited himself she would +leave the hotel. Vera Nugent told him that, having installed herself +his nurse. Vera, who knew nothing but suspected much, guessed that +Macartney had had as much of her brother as he cared about. As for +Lucy, on the whole she despised her for preferring James with the Law +to Jimmy without it. In this she did little justice to James's use of +his advantage; but, as I say, she didn't know what had happened. All +she could see for herself was that where she had once had a _faible_ +for Urquhart she was now ridiculously in love with her husband. Vera +thought that any woman was ridiculous who fell into that position. +She was not alone in the opinion. + +However, the main thing was that Jimmy shouldn't fret himself into a +fever. If he kept quiet, she believed that he would recover. There was +no dislocation, the doctors told her, but a very bad wrench. He must +be perfectly still--and we should see. + +Lucy was not told how impatiently she was awaited. James, maybe, did +not know anything about it. He felt great delicacy in telling what he +had to tell her of the events of that day. But she guessed nearly +everything, even that Urquhart had intended to break his own neck. "He +would," she said, being in a stare; "he's like that." James agreed, +but pointed out that it had nearly involved his own end likewise. Lucy +stared on, but said, "That wouldn't occur to him at the time." No, +said James, on the contrary. It had occurred to him at the time that +if he cut the rope, he, James, would immediately turn for home. She +nodded her head several times. "He's like that." And then she turned +and hid her face. "It's all dreadful," she said; "I don't want to know +any more." It was then that James pronounced upon Urquhart's absence +of morality, and found out that she was very much interested in him +anyhow. + +She was curious about what had passed between him and James, for she +was sure that there had been something. James admitted that. "It was +very uncomfortable," he said; "I cut him as short as I could--but I +was awfully sorry for him. After all, I had scored, you see." + +She gave him a long look. "Yes, you scored. All ways. Because, it was +only when I was angry with you that I--thought he might do." There +could be no comment on that. Then she said, "I'm thankful that I told +you everything before he did." + +"So am I, by Jove," said James. He put his arm round her. "If you +hadn't," he said, "I think I could have let him die." Lucy shook her +head. + +"No, you wouldn't have done that. He would have--but not you. If you +had been capable of that you wouldn't have called me to come to you as +you did--that day." He knew which day she meant, and felt it necessary +to tell her something about it. + +"On that day," he said, "though you didn't know it, I was awfully in +love with you." She looked at him, wonderfully. "No, I didn't know +that! What a donkey I was! But I was wretched. I simply longed for +you." + +"If you hadn't cried, you would never have had me." That she +understood. + +"You wanted to pity me." + +"No, I had been afraid of you. Your tears brought you down to earth." + +"That's poetry," said Lucy. + +"It's the nature of man," he maintained. + +She wanted to know if he "minded" her seeing Urquhart. He did, very +much; but wouldn't say so. + +"You needn't mind a bit," she told him. "He has terrified me. I'm not +adventurous at all; besides--" + +"Besides--?" + +"No, no, not now." She would say nothing more. + + * * * * * + +An expedition was made to the foot of the snow-field--for the benefit +of the boys. From a distance they saw the great cornice, and the +plateau where James had watched by Urquhart. Lancelot was here +confronted with irony for the first time. His loyalty was severely +tried. By rights Mr. Urquhart ought to have rescued the lot. Not for +a moment could he doubt of that. As for his father, accepted on all +hands as a hero, there were difficulties in the way which he could not +get over. He had to go very warily to work because of his mother; but +he went as far as he could. Why was it that Mr. Urquhart was hurt and +Father was not, when they both had the same drop? Lucy could only say +that Father dropped better--or fell better. And then there was a +pause. "What! With an eyeglass!" He allowed himself that--with her; +but with Patrick Nugent he was short and stern. Patrick had said +something of the same kind, as they were journeying home together. Why +hadn't Lancelot's governor smashed his eyeglass when he dropped? +Lancelot sniffed offence immediately, and snorted, "Hoo! Jolly good +thing for him he didn't! It kept the cold out of his eye. It's like +feeding a mouse when you're a prisoner in dungeons. Afterwards it +comes and gnaws the rope. Pooh, any ass could see that." And so much +for Patrick and cheek. + + * * * * * + +But the sick man, fretting in his bed, took short views. To see Lucy +again had become so desirable that he could think of nothing else. +She glanced before him as a Promise, and his nature was such that a +Promise was halfway to a fulfilling. As strength grew, so did he wax +sanguine, and amused himself by reconstructing his Spanish castle. + +Vera Nugent gave him no encouragement; and perhaps overdid it. "Hadn't +you really better let the woman alone? She's perfectly happy--in spite +of you." He could afford to laugh at this. + +"She doesn't know what happiness is. She thinks it is safety. I could +teach her better." + +"You've made a great mess of it so far," Vera said. He ignored that. + +"You say that she's happy. I suggest that she is merely snug. That's +what a dormouse calls happiness." + +"Well, there's a good deal of the dormouse in Lucy," Vera said. "If +you stroke her she shines." + +"Silence!" he cried sharply out. "You don't know anything at all. I +have had her radiant--like a moonstone. When am I to see her?" + +"I'll tell her that you want to see her--but it would be reasonable if +she refused." + +"She won't refuse," he said. + + * * * * * + +James must be told, of course. He took it quietly. "Yes, on the +whole--yes. I don't think you can refuse him that. It will try you." + +"It will be horrid--but anyhow you know everything he can say." + +"He doesn't know that I do. He'll build on that." + +"Build!" said Lucy quickly. "What sort of building?" + +"Oh, fantastic architecture. Bowers by Bendemeer. Never mind. Are you +going?" + +"Yes," said Lucy slowly. "Yes, I'll go now." She went to him and put +her hands on his shoulders. Her eyes searched his face, and found it +inscrutable. "You mind," she said, "I know you do. You ought not--but +I'm glad of it." + +He humbled himself at once. They parted as lovers part; but for the +life of him he could not understand how she could find the heart to +go. With himself, now, it would have been a point of honour not to go. +He did not see that the more a woman loves the more love she has to +spare. + +Vera Nugent took her into the room, pausing outside the door. "You'll +find him very jumpy," she said; and then, "My dear, you're so +sensible." + +Lucy, who knew that she meant precisely the opposite, said, "No, I +don't think I am. I'm excitable myself. What do you want me to do?" + +"Keep cool," said Vera. "He won't like it, but it's important." Then +they went in. "Jimmy, here's Mrs. Macartney." + +The quick eyes from the bed had been upon her from the first. It was +immediately evident to her that she was not to be spared. She heard +his "At last!" and braced herself for what that might mean. + +"I should have come before if the doctors had approved--so would James +and Lancelot," she said as briskly as she might. He took no notice of +her addition. Vera Nugent, saying, "Don't let him talk too much," then +left her with him. + +She began matter-of-fact enquiries, but he soon showed her that she +had not been brought in for such platitude. He played the mastery of +the invalid without hesitation. + +"Oh, I'm very sick, you know. They tell me that I shall be as fit as +ever I was, if I behave--but really I don't know. I've a good deal +behind me--and not much before--so that I'm comparatively indifferent +how the thing goes.... Look here, Lucy," he said suddenly--and she +stiffened at her name--"I have to talk to you at last. It's wonderful +how we've put it off--but here it has come." + +She said in low tones, "I don't see why we should talk about anything. +I would much rather not. Everything is changed now--everything." + +Urquhart began with a touch of asperity ill disguised. "Might one be +allowed to enquire...?" Scared perhaps by his pomposity, he broke off: +"No, that won't do. I'll ask you simply, what has happened? You liked +me--to say no more. Now you don't. No, no, don't protest yet. Leave it +at that. Well, and then there's Macartney. Macartney didn't know you +existed. Now he doesn't see that any one else does. What has happened, +Lucy?" + +She was annoyed at his _Lucy_, annoyed that she could be annoyed, +annoyed at his question, and his right to ask it--which she had given +him. Mostly, perhaps, she was annoyed because her answer must sound +ridiculous. Hateful, that such should be the lot of men and wives! She +repeated his question, "What has happened? I don't know how to tell +you. I found out, before we started--James found out-- Please don't +ask me to talk about it. Believe me when I say that everything is +changed. I can't say more than that." + +He didn't move his eyes from her. She knew they were there though she +would not face them. "Everything isn't changed. I'm not changed. I +don't know that you are, although you say so." She faced him. + +"Indeed, I am. I hope you'll understand that." He frowned, his fever +flushed him. + +"You can't be. We can never be ordinary acquaintance. I have kissed +you--" + +"You had no right--" + +"You have kissed me--" + +"You are cruel indeed." + +"I am not cruel--I don't pretend to excuse myself. The first time--it +was the act of a cad--but I worked it all out. It couldn't fail; I +knew exactly how it would be. You would of course think it was he. You +would be awfully touched, awfully pleased--set up. And you were. I saw +that you were when we all came into the room. You went over and stood +by him. You put your hand on his arm. I said, 'You divine, +beautiful, tender thing, now I'll go through the fire to get you....'" + +Lucy had covered her face with her hands; but now she lifted it and +showed him as it might be the eyes of an Assessing Angel. + +"You went through no fire at all. But you put me in the fire." But he +continued as if she had said nothing material. + +"I had made up my mind to be satisfied. I thought if I could see you +exalted, proud of what you had, that would be enough. But you found +him out; and then you found me out too ... and we never spoke of it. +But there it was, Lucy, all the time; and there it is still, my +dear--" + +Her face was aflame, but her eyes clear and cold. "No," she said, +"it's not there. There is nothing there at all. You are nothing to me +but a thought of shame. I think I deserve all that you can say--but +surely you have said enough to me now. I must leave you if you go on +with this conversation. Nothing whatever is there--" + +He laughed, not harshly, but comfortably, as a man does who is sure of +himself. "Yes, there is something there still. I count on that. There +is a common knowledge, unshared by any one but you and me. He would +have it so. I was ready to tell him everything, but he wouldn't hear +me. It was honourable of him. I admired him for it; but it left me +sharing something with you." + +She stared at him, as if he had insulted her in the street. + +"What can you mean? How could he want to hear from you what he knew +already from me?" + +Urquhart went pale. Grey patches showed on his cheeks and spread like +dry places in the sand. + +"You told him?" + +"Everything. Two nights before you went." + +He fell silent. His eyes left her face. Power seemed to leave him. + +"That tears it," he said. "That does for me." He was so utterly +disconcerted that she could have pitied him. + +"So that's why he didn't want to hear me! No wonder. But--why didn't +he tell me that he knew it? I taunted him with not knowing." He turned +towards her; his eyes were bright with fever. "If you know, perhaps +you'll tell me." + +Lucy said proudly, "I believe I know. He didn't want to change your +thoughts of me." He received that in silence. + +Then he said, "By George, he's a better man than I am." + +Lucy said, "Yes, he is." Her head was very fixed, her neck very stiff. +She was really angry, and Urquhart had sense enough to see it. She got +up to leave him, really angry, but unwilling to appear so. "You must +forget all this," she said, "and get well. Then you will do wonderful +things." + +He said, "I've been a blackguard; but I meant something better." + +"Oh, I am sure you did," she said warmly. + +"I won't see Macartney, if he doesn't mind. Tell him from me that he's +a better man than I am." + +"He won't believe you," said Lucy. + +"Oh, yes, he will," Urquhart held. "Good-bye. Love to Lancelot." + +That melted her. "Don't give us up. We are all your friends now." + +He wouldn't have it. "No. I am a neck-or-nothing man. It can't be. +There's no cake in the cupboard. I've eaten it. Send Vera in if you +see her about. Good-bye." She left him. + + * * * * * + +She went through the hall, with a word to Vera, who was writing +letters there. "He asked for you." + +Vera looked up at her. "He's excited, I suppose?" + +"No, not now," said Lucy. Then she went into the sitting-room and saw +the party at tea on the balcony. James paused in his careful +occupations, and focussed her with his eyeglass. She went quickly to +the table. + +"Oh, let me do it, let me." And then she sighed deeply. + +"Hulloa," said James, knowing very well. "What's up?" + +She poured the tea. "Only that I'm glad to be here." + +Glances were exchanged, quick but reassuring. + +Lancelot said, "There's a ripping cake. Mr. Urquhart would like some, +I bet you." + +Lucy said, "He can't have any cake just yet." Upon which remark she +avoided James's eye, and eyeglass, with great care. But on a swift +afterthought she stooped and kissed Lancelot. + + + + +EPILOGUE + + +Really, the only fact I feel called upon to add is the following +announcement, culled from a fashionable newspaper. + +"On the 3rd June," we read, "at ---- Onslow Square, to Mr. and Mrs. +James Adolphus Macartney, a daughter." + +That ought to do instead of the wedding bells once demanded by the +average reader. Let it then stand for the point of my pair's +pilgrimage. + +I promised a romantic James and have given you a sentimental one. It +is a most unfortunate thing that it should be thought ridiculous for a +man to fall in love with his wife, for his wife to fall in love with +him; and we have to thank, I believe, the high romanticks for it. They +must have devilry, it seems, or cayenne pepper. But I say, Scorn not +the sentimental, though it be barley-sugar to ambrosia, a canary's +flight to a skylark's. Scorn it not; it's the romantic of the +unimaginative; and if it won't serve for a magic carpet, it makes a +useful anti-macassar. + +The Macartneys saw no more of Urquhart, who, however, recovered the +use of his backbone, and with it his zest for the upper air. He sent +Lucy some flowers after the event of June, and later on, at the end of +July, a letter, which I reproduce. + + "_Quid plura_? I had news of you and greeted it, and am gone. + I have hired myself to the Greeks for the air. I take two + machines of my own, and an m. b. If you can forgive me when + I have worked out my right we shall meet again. If you, I + shall know, and keep off. Good-bye, Lucy. + + "J. U. + + "The one thing I can't forgive myself was the first, a wild + impulse, but a cad's. All the rest was inevitable. Good-bye." + +She asked Lancelot what _Quid plura_ meant. He snorted. "Hoo! Stale! +It means, what are you crying about? naturally. Who said it? That +letter? Who's it from? Mr. Urquhart, I suppose?" + +"Yes, it's from Mr. Urquhart, to say Good-bye. He's going to Greece, +to fly for the navy." + +"Oh. Rather sport. Has he gone?" + +"Yes, dear, I think so." + +"You'll write to him, I suppose?" + +"I might." + +"I shall too, then. Rather. I should think so." + + + + + THE END + + + + + * * * * * + + + +Transcriber's Note: + +1) Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been retained from the original. + +2) The original text includes Greek characters. For this text version + these letters have been replaced with transliterations. + +3) Passages in italics are indicated by _underscore_. + +4) The following misprints have been corrected: + vicacious corrected to vivacious (page 97) + "s[oe]ters" corrected to "saeters" (page 268) + missing text "w____" corrected to "where" (page 279) + +5) Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies + in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been + retained. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE AND LUCY*** + + +******* This file should be named 29868.txt or 29868.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/9/8/6/29868 + + + +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. 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