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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1338df1 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50176 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50176) diff --git a/old/50176-0.txt b/old/50176-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a6602dc..0000000 --- a/old/50176-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15589 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pride of Eve, by Warwick Deeping - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Pride of Eve - -Author: Warwick Deeping - -Release Date: October 10, 2015 [EBook #50176] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRIDE OF EVE *** - - - - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net) from -page images generously made available by The Internet -Archive Canadian Libraries -(https://archive.org/details/texts) - - - - - - - THE PRIDE OF EVE - - - By - - WARWICK DEEPING - _Author of “Sorrell and Son,” etc._ - - CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD - London, Toronto, Melbourne and Sydney - - - - - First published _September 1914_ - Popular Edition _September 1926_ - 3s. 6d. Edition _June 1928_ - - - _Printed in Great Britain_ - - - - - CONTENTS—PART I - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - 1. THE COMING OF GUINEVERE 1 - 2. LYNETTE FEEDS THE FAIRIES 11 - 3. GUINEVERE HAS HER PORTRAIT PAINTED 25 - 4. THE IMPORTUNATE BEGGAR 32 - 5. EVE ENTERS THE WILDERNESS 40 - 6. WOMEN OF VIRTUE 48 - 7. CANTERTON PURSUES MRS. BROCKLEBANK 56 - 8. LYNETTE TAKES TO PAINTING 65 - 9. LIFE AT FERNHILL 71 - 10. TEA IN THE WILDERNESS 80 - 11. LATIMER 86 - 12. A WEEK’S DISCOVERY 95 - 13. A MAN IN THE MOONLIGHT 104 - 14. MRS. CARFAX FINISHES HER KNITTING 111 - 15. LYNETTE PUTS ON BLACK 119 - 16. JAMES CANTERTON AWAKES 127 - 17. LYNETTE INTERPOSES 134 - 18. EVE SPEAKS OUT 138 - 19. AN HOUR IN THE FIR WOODS 143 - 20. NIGHT AND A CHILD 146 - 21. THE WOMAN’S EYES IN THE EYES OF A CHILD 152 - - - - - CONTENTS—PART II - - - 22. BOSNIA ROAD 159 - 23. LIFE AND LETTERS 165 - 24. EVE’S SENSE OF THE LIMITATIONS OF LIFE 173 - 25. HUGH MASSINGER, ESQ. 180 - 26. KATE DUVEEN GOES ABROAD 190 - 27. THE BOURGEOIS OF CLARENDON ROAD 195 - 28. CANTERTON’S COTTAGE AND MISS CHAMPION’S MORALITY 203 - 29. EARNING A LIVING 211 - 30. MORE EXPERIENCES 221 - 31. THE BOURGEOIS PLAYS THE GENTLEMAN 227 - 32. EVE DETERMINES TO LEAVE BOSNIA ROAD 233 - 33. WOMAN’S WAR 240 - 34. EVE PURSUES EXPERIENCE 247 - 35. THE SUFFRAGETTE 257 - 36. PALLAS 269 - 37. ADVENTURES 281 - 38. THE MAN WITH THE MOTOR 291 - 39. LYNETTE 303 - 40. WHAT THEY SAID TO EACH OTHER 308 - 41. CAMPING IN THE FIR WOODS 316 - 42. NATURE SMILES 326 - 43. EVE COMES TO HERSELF 333 - 44. THE NIGHT DRIVE 339 - 45. GERTRUDE CANTERTON CAUSES AN ANTI-CLIMAX 345 - 46. LYNETTE APPROVES 350 - - - - - THE PRIDE OF EVE - - - - PART I - - - - - CHAPTER I - - - THE COMING OF GUINEVERE - - -James Canterton was camping out in the rosery under the shade of a white -tent umbrella. - -It was a June day, and beyond the fir woods that broke the bluster of -the south-west winds, a few white clouds floated in a deep blue sky. As -for the rosery at Fernhill, no Persian poet could have found a more -delectable spot in which to dream through the hours of a scented day, -with a jar of purple wine beside him. An old yew hedge, clipped square, -closed it in like a wall, with an opening cut at each corner where paths -paved with rough stones disappeared into the world without. These four -broad, grey paths, the crevices between the stones planted with purple -aubretia and star-flowered rock plants, met in the centre of the rosery, -where a sundial stood on a Gothic pillar. Next the yew hedge were -rambling roses trained upon the trunks of dead fir trees. Numberless -little grey paths branched off from the main ones, dividing up the great -square court into some two score rose beds. And this June day this -secret, yew-walled garden flamed with a thousand tongues of fire. -Crimson, old rose, coral pink, blush white, damask, saffron, blood red, -snow, cerise, salmon, white, orange, copper, gold, all the colours -seemed alive with light, the rich green of the young foliage giving a -setting of softness to the splendour of the flowers. - -James Canterton was the big, placid, meditative creature needed for such -a rose garden. He had a table beside him, and on it a litter of -things—notebooks, a tobacco tin, an empty wine glass, a book on the -flora of China, two briarwood pipes, and a lens set in a silver frame. -He was sitting with his feet within a foot of a rose bush planted in a -corner of one of the many beds, a mere slip of a tree that was about to -unfold its first flower. - -This rose, Canterton’s latest creation, had four buds on it, three -tightly closed, the fourth on the eve of opening. He had christened the -new rose “Guinevere,” and there was a subtle and virginal thrill about -Guinevere’s first flowering, the outer petals, shaded from coral to -amber, beginning to disclose a faint inwardness of fiery gold. Canterton -had sat there since eight in the morning, for he wanted to watch the -whole unfolding of the flower, and his vigil might continue through most -of the morrow. He would be down in the rosery when the dew glistened on -the petals, nor would he leave it till the yellow rays of the horizontal -sun poured over the yew hedge, and made every flower glow with a -miraculous brilliance. - -Canterton’s catalogues were to be found in most well-to-do country -houses, and his art had disclosed itself in many opulent gardens. A rich -amateur in the beginning, he had chosen to assume the broader -professional career, perhaps because his big, quiet, and creative brain -loved the sending forth of rich merchandise, and the creation of beauty. -As a searcher after new plants he had travelled half over the -globe—explored China, the Himalayas, California, and South Africa. He -was famous for his hybridisation of orchids, an authority on all trees -and flowering shrubs, an expert whose opinions were valued at Kew. It -was beauty that fired him, colour and perfumes, and at Fernhill, in this -Surrey landscape, he had created a great nursery where beautiful things -were born. As a trader, trading the gorgeous tints of azaleas and -rhododendrons, or the glaucous stateliness of young cedars, he had -succeeded as remarkably as he had succeeded as an artist. South, east, -and west his work might be studied in many a garden; architects who -conceived for the wealthy advised their patrons to persuade Canterton to -create a setting. - -His success was the more astonishing, seeing that those who set out to -persuade their fellow men not only to see beauty, but to buy it, have to -deal with a legion of gross fools. Nor would anyone have expected the -world to have paid anything to a man who could sit through a whole day -watching the opening bud of a new rose. Canterton was one of the family -of the big, patient people, the men of the microscope and the -laboratory, who discover great things quietly, and remain undiscovered -by the apes who sit and gibber at a clown on a stage. - -Canterton had picked up one of his pipes, when a maidservant appeared in -one of the arches cut in the yew hedge. She sighted the man under the -white umbrella and made her way towards him along one of the stone -paths. - -“The mistress sent me to find you, sir.” - -“Well, Mary?” - -“She wants to speak to you, sir.” - -“I am busy for the moment.” - -The maid hid an amused sympathy behind a sedate manner. - -“I’ll tell Mrs. Canterton you are engaged, sir.” - -And she showed the practical good sense of her sympathy by leaving him -alone. - -Canterton stretched out his legs, and stared at Guinevere over the bowl -of his empty pipe. His massive head, with its steady, deep-set, -meditative eyes, looked the colour of bronze under the shade of the -umbrella. It was a “peasant’s” head, calm, sun-tanned, kind, with a -simple profundity in its expression, and a quiet imaginativeness about -the mouth. His brown hair, grizzled at the temples, had a slight curl to -it; his teeth were perfect; his hands big, brown, yet finely formed. He -was the very antithesis of the city worker, having much of the large -purposefulness of Nature in him, never moving jerkily, or chattering, or -letting his eyes snap restlessly at motes in the sunlight. A John Ridd -of a man, yet much less of a simpleton, he had a dry, kind sparkle of -humour in him that delighted children and made loud talkers feel uneasy. -Sentimental people said that his eyes were sad, though they would have -been nearer the truth if they had said that he was lonely. - -Canterton filled his pipe, keeping a humorously expectant eye fixed on -one particular opening in the yew hedge. There are people and things -whose arrival may be counted on as inevitable, and Canterton was in the -act of striking a match when he saw his wife enter the rosery. She came -through the yew hedge with that characteristic scurry of hers suggesting -the indefatigable woman of affairs in a hurry, her chin poking forward, -the curve of her neck exaggerating the intrusive stoop of her shoulders. - -Gertrude Canterton was dressed for some big function, and she had chosen -primrose, the very colour that she should not have worn. Her large black -hat with its sable feather sat just at the wrong angle; wisps of hair -straggled at the back of her neck, and one of her gloves was split -between the fingers. Her dress hinted at a certain fussy earnestness, an -impatience of patience before mirrors, or perhaps an unconscious -contempt for such reflectors of trifles. She was tall, narrow across the -shoulders, and distinguished by a pallid strenuousness that was -absolutely lacking in any spirit of repose. Her face was too big, and -colourless, and the nose too broad and inquisitive about the nostrils. -It was a face that seemed to grow larger and larger when she had talked -anyone into a corner, looming up, white, and earnest and egotistical -through a fog of words, the chin poking forward, the pale eyes set in a -stare. She had a queer habit of wriggling her shoulders when she entered -a room full of people, a trick that seemed strange in a woman of so much -self-conceit. - -“James! Oh, there you are! You must know how busy I am!” - -Canterton lit his pipe. - -“You are the busiest woman I know.” - -“It’s a quarter to three, and I have to open the fête at three. And the -men are not up at the house. I told Lavender——” - -“Yes, no doubt. But we happen to be very busy here.” - -His wife elevated her eyebrows. - -“James, do you mean to say——” - -“The men are not going.” - -“But I told Lavender——” - -He looked at her with an imperturbable good humour that knew perfectly -well how to hold its own. - -“Lavender comes to me for instructions. There are some things, Gertrude, -that you don’t quite understand. It is now just ten minutes to three.” - -The wife shrugged her shoulders over the hopelessness of this eccentric -male. For the moment she was intensely irritated, being a woman with a -craze for managing everybody and everything, and for striking the -dominant note in the community in which she happened to live. - -“Well, I think it is abominable——” - -“What?” - -“Making me look foolish, and keeping these men at work, when I had -arranged for them to go to the fête. The whole neighbourhood will be -represented. We have made a particular effort to get all the working -people——” - -Canterton remained genial and undisturbed. - -“I think I told you that more than half the men are Radicals.” - -“All the more reason for getting into touch with them.” - -“Voluntarily, perhaps. The men were needed here.” - -“But I had seen Lavender——” - -“I don’t want to hurry you, but if you are to be there at three——” - -She jerked her head, twitching her black hat farther off her forehead. - -“Sometimes you are impossible. You won’t interest yourself in life, and -you won’t let others be interested.” - -“I’m not quite so bad as that, Gertrude. I am no good at social affairs. -You have the genius for all that.” - -“Exactly. But even in the matter of helping things on. Well, it is no -use talking to you. I promised Lady Marchendale that I would be on the -platform by three.” - -“You haven’t much time.” - -“No, I haven’t.” - -She let him see that she despaired of his personality, and walked off -towards the house, a long, thin, yellow figure, like a vibrating wire -that was always a blurr of egotistical energy. She was angry, with the -pinched and cold anger of a thin-natured woman. James was impossible, -only fit to be left like a great bear among his trees and shrubs. -Besides he had made her look a fool. These sixty men were to have -followed her carriage, an impressive body of retainers tramping after -her into Lady Marchendale’s grounds. - -Neither Guinevere the rose, nor the purpose of Canterton’s day had been -so much as noticed. He was always busy watching something, studying the -life cycle of some pest, scanning the world of growth in the great -nursery, and Gertrude Canterton was not interested in flowers, which -meant that she was outside the world of her husband’s life. These two -people, though living in the same house, were absolute strangers to each -other. The book of their companionship had been closed long ago, and had -never been reopened. The great offence had arisen when James Canterton -had chosen to become the professional artist and trader. His wife had -never forgiven him that step. It had seemed so unnecessary, so vulgar, -so exasperatingly irrational to a woman who was essentially a snob. From -that time Gertrude Canterton had begun to excuse her husband to the -world, to shrug her shoulders at him as an eccentric creature, to let -her friends understand that Canterton was one of those abnormal people -who are best left alone in their own peculiar corner. She never -understood him, and never attempted to understand him, being too busy -with her multifarious publicities to grasp the bigness and the beauty of -this quiet man’s mind. - -Gertrude Canterton had a restless passion for managing things and -people, and for filling her life with a conviction that she was -indispensable. Her maternal instinct seemed to have become a perverted -passion for administration. She was a Guardian of the Poor, Dame -President of the local Primrose League Habitation, Secretary of the -Basingford Coal and Clothing Club, Treasurer of the District Nurses -Fund, an enthusiastic National Service Leaguer, on the committee of a -convalescent home for London children that had been built within three -miles of Basingford, a lecturer on Eugenics, a strenuous advocate of the -Red Cross campaign, also a violent anti-Suffragist. She had caught a -whole collection of the age’s catch-cries, and used them perpetually -with eager emphasis. “The woman’s place is the home.” “We must begin -with the children.” “Help, but not pauperisation.” “The Ideal of the -Empire.” “The segregation of the unfit.” She wanted to manage everybody, -and was tacitly disliked by everybody, save by a select few, who -considered her to be a remarkable and a very useful woman. - -At three minutes past three Gertrude Canterton was on the platform in -the marquee in Lady Marchendale’s grounds, and making the short speech -with which she was to open the Primrose League fête. Short speeches did -not accord with Gertrude Canterton’s methods of persuasion. She always -had a very great deal to say, enjoyed saying it, and never paused to -wonder whether people wanted to listen to her opinions. She spoke for -twenty minutes in her thin and metallic voice, eagerly and earnestly, -and keeping up that queer, sinuous wriggling of the trunk and shoulders -that had made some wag christen her “The Earnest Eel.” - -The country crowd was bored after the first five minutes. Lord Parallax -was to speak later, and the people had grown too accustomed to listening -to Mrs. Canterton. There were a number of children sandwiched in among -their elders, children who became either vacantly depressed or -assertively restless. The real fun of the day was waiting, the -roundabout, the races, the mugs of tea, and the buns. - -Two men in flannel suits and Panama hats stood just outside the marquee -doorway. - -“Where’s Parallax?” - -“Up at the house, playing croquet with Grace Abercorn. I promised to -fetch him, when the star turn was due. They’ll think he has just rushed -down from town by motor.” - -“Listen to the indefatigable woman.” - -“You know, she might be doing some sort of ultra-subtle Maud Allan -business, if you put her in beads.” - -“My dear chap!” - -“Fifteen minutes already, and we expected three. It is no use trying to -stop her. She’s like a soda water bottle with the cork out. You can’t do -anything till all the gas has escaped.” - -“I’ll just go down and see how the Sports Committee are getting along. -Oh, by the way, I’ve booked you and Ethel for our houseboat at Henley.” - -“Thanks. I’ll remember.” - -On the lawn below Lady Marchendale’s terrace garden Lord Parallax was -flirting with a clever and audacious little woman in grey and silver. -Ostensibly they were playing croquet, while old Percival Kex, Esq., sat -in a French cane chair under the lime tree, and quizzed Parallax when he -came within range. - -“Well, will you take my bet, or not?” - -“Don’t talk at the critical moment, sir. This game turns on the Suffrage -question.” - -“Here, Gracie, do you hear him trying to shirk my challenge?” - -Miss Abercorn trailed her mallet towards the lime tree. Percival Kex was -a character, with his tin-plate face, bold head, and eyes like -blackberries. His tongue fished in many waters, and his genial cynicism -was infinitely refreshing. - -“I have wagered Parallax six sevenpenny insurance stamps that he won’t -escape the Wriggling Lady.” - -“My dear sir, how can I, when——” - -“Wait a moment. One handshake, six smiles, and three minutes’ -conversation will be allowed. After that you have got to keep clear, and -I bet you you won’t.” - -“Kex, I always lay myself out to be bored at these functions. That is -why I am playing croquet, and attempting to get some compensation.” - -“Who’s to snatch at that feather, Gracie, you or I? I suppose it is -yours.” - -“Hallo, here’s Meryon! I’m due on the boards.” - -“Miss Abercorn, I desire you to come and act as time-keeper, and to hold -the stakes.” - -Percival Kex won his six insurance stamps without much difficulty. -Parallax made his oration, and when the audience had dispersed, he -became the immediate victim of Mrs. Canterton’s enthusiasms. They -paraded the grounds together, Parallax polite, stiff, and full of a -disastrous disgust; Gertrude Canterton earnestly vivadous, poking her -chin at him, and exerting all her public charm. Parallax was considered -to be a great personality, and she insisted upon his being interesting -and serious, giving him every opportunity to be brilliant upon such -subjects as Welsh Disestablishment, the inadequacy of the Navy, and the -importation of pork from China. She kept him for more than an hour, -introduced him to numberless honest souls who were content with a shake -of the hand, insinuated in every way that she knew that he was a very -great man, but never suspected that he wanted to play croquet. - -Parallax detached himself at last, and found Kex and Miss Abercorn -having tea under the lime tree in that secluded corner where none of the -Leaguers penetrated. - -“By George, Kex, I’ve never been taken so seriously in my life! Let me -see—where am I? I think I got bogged in Tariff Reform.” - -“We thought we would come and have tea, Parallax. We saw you were too -occupied.” - -“Kex, you are an old scoundrel. Why didn’t you rescue me when you had -won your bet?” - -“Sir, I am not a hero.” - -“Is there a whisky and soda to be had? Oh, here’s a servant. Bring me a -whisky and soda, will you?” - -He sat down and looked reproachfully at Miss Abercorn. - -“I suppose it would never occur to such a woman that a man might want to -play croquet?” - -“Croquet, Parallax! My dear fellow, think of the Empire, and——” - -“Hang the Empire. Here’s my whisky.” - -“Don’t you think you had better make sure of it by going and drinking it -in the shrubbery? She may follow you up to see what you’ve got to say on -Eugenics.” - -“Miss Abercorn, will you protect me? Really, I have had too much -Minerva.” - -“That apple! I always had a lot of sympathy with Paris. I think he was a -particularly bright young man.” - -“One word, Kex: has the lady a husband?” - -“She has.” - -“Thank God, and Heaven help him!” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER II - - - LYNETTE FEEDS THE FAIRIES - - -About six o’clock James Canterton took leave of Guinevere, and passing -out through the yew hedge, made his way down the rhododendron walk to -the wicket gate that opened on the side of a hill. On this hill-side was -the “heath garden” that tumbled when in full bloom like a cataract of -purple and white wine till it broke against the shadowy edge of a larch -wood. The spires of the larches descended in glimmering confusion -towards the stream that ran among poplars and willows in the bottom of -the valley. - -Canterton followed a path that led into the larch wood where the -thousands of grey black poles were packed so close together that the eye -could not see for more than thirty yards. There was a faint and -mysterious murmuring in the tree tops, a sound as of breathing that was -only to be heard when one stood still. The ground was covered with thin, -wiry grass of a peculiarly vivid green. The path curled this way and -that among the larch trunks, with a ribbon of blue sky mimicking it -overhead. The wood was called the wilderness, and even when a gale was -blowing, it was calm and sheltered in the deeps among the trees. - -Canterton paused now and again to examine some of the larches. He had -been working at the spruce gall aphis disease, trying to discover a new -method of combating it, or of lighting upon some other creature that by -preying upon the pest might be encouraged to extirpate the disease. The -winding path led him at last to the lip of a large dell or sunken -clearing. It was a pool of yellow sunlight in the midst of the green -glooms, palisaded round with larch trunks, its banks a tangle of broom, -heather, bracken, whortleberry, and furze. There was a boggy spot in one -corner where gorgeous mosses made a carpet of green and gold, and bog -asphodel grew, and the sundew fed upon insects. All about the clearing -the woods were a blue mist when the wild hyacinth bloomed in May. - -Down below him in a grassy hollow a child with brilliant auburn hair was -feeding a fire with dry sticks. She knelt intent and busy, serenely -alone with herself, tending the fire that she had made. Beside her she -had a tin full of water, an old saucepan, two or three potatoes, some -tea and sugar twisted up together in the corner of a newspaper, and a -medicine bottle half full of milk. - -“Hallo—hallo!” - -The auburn hair flashed in the sunlight, and the child turned the face -of a beautiful and wayward elf. - -“Daddy!” - -She sprang up and raced towards him. - -“Daddy, come along. I’ve got to cook the supper for the fairies.” - -Canterton had never evolved a more beautiful flower than this child of -his, Lynette. She was his in every way, without a shred of her mother’s -nature, for even her glowing little head was as different from Gertrude -Canterton’s as fire from clay. - -“Hallo, come along.” - -He caught her up with his big hands, and set her on his shoulder. - -“Now then, what about Princess Puck? You don’t mean to say the greedy -little beggars have eaten up all that pudding we cooked them last -night?” - -“Every little bit.” - -“It must have been good. And it means that we shall have to put on our -aprons.” - -On the short grass at the bottom of the clearing was a fairy ring, and -to Lynette the whole wilderness was full of the little people. The dell -was her playing ground, and she fled to it on those happy occasions when -Miss Vance, her governess, had her hours of freedom. As for Canterton, -he was just the child that she was, entering into all her fancies, -applauding them, and taking a delight in her gay, elf-like enthusiasm. - -“Have you seen Brer Rabbit to-night?” - -“No.” - -“He just said ‘How de do’ to me as I came through the wood. And I saw -old Sergeant Hedgehog taking a nap under a tuft of grass.” - -“I don’t like old Hedgehog. I don’t like prickly people, do you, daddy?” - -“Not much.” - -“Like Miss Nickleton. She might be a pin-cushion. She’s always taking -out pins, and putting you all tidy.” - -“Now then, we’ve got to be very serious. What’s the supper to be -to-night?” - -“Baked potatoes and tea.” - -“By Jove, they’ll get fat.” - -Canterton set her down and threw himself into the business with an -immense seriousness that made him the most convincing of playfellows. He -took off his coat, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and looked critically at -the fire. - -“We want some more wood, daddy.” - -“Just so.” - -He went among the larches, gathered an armful of dead wood, and returned -to the fire. Lynette was kneeling and poking it with a stick, her hair -shining in the sunlight, her pale face with its hazel eyes full of a -happy seriousness. Canterton knelt down beside her, and they began to -feed the fire. - -“Rather sulky.” - -“Blow, daddy.” - -He bent down and played Æolus, getting red in the face. - -“I say, what a lot of work these fairies give us!” - -“But won’t they be pleased! I like to think of them coming out in the -moonlight, and feasting, and then having their dance round the ring.” - -“And singing, ‘Long live Lynette.’” - -They heated up the water in the saucepan, and made tea—of a kind—and -baked the potatoes in the embers of the fire. Lynette always spread the -feast on the bottom of a bank near the fairy ring. Sergeant Hedgehog, -black-eyed field mice, and an occasional rat, disposed of the food, but -that did not matter so long as Lynette found that it had gone. Canterton -himself would come down early, and empty the tea away to keep up the -illusion. - -“I think I’ll be a fairy some night, Lynette.” - -Her eyes laughed up at him. - -“Fancy you being a fairy, daddy! Why, you’d eat up all the food, and -there wouldn’t be room to dance.” - -“Come, now, I’m hurt.” - -She stroked his face. - -“You’re so much better than a fairy, daddy.” - -The sun slanted lower, and shadows began to cover the clearing. -Canterton smothered the fire, picked up Lynette, and set her on his -shoulders, one black leg hanging down on either side of his cerise tie, -for Canterton always wore Irish tweeds, and ties that showed some -colour. - -“Off we go.” - -They romped through the larch wood, up the hill-side, and into the -garden, Lynette’s two hands clasped over her father’s forehead. Fernhill -House showed up against the evening sky, a warm, old, red-brick building -with white window frames, roses and creepers covering it, and little -dormer windows peeping out of the tiled roof. Stretches of fine turf -were unfurled before it, set with beds of violas, and bounded by great -herbaceous borders. A cedar of Lebanon grew to the east, a noble sequoia -to the west, throwing sharp black shadows on the gold-green grass. - -“Gallop, daddy.” - -Canterton galloped, and her brilliant hair danced, and her red mouth -laughed. They came across the grass to the house in fine uproarious -style, and were greeted by the sound of voices drifting through the open -windows of the drawing-room. - -Their irresponsible fun was at end. Canterton set the child down just as -the thin primrose-coloured figure came to one of the open French -windows. - -“James, Mrs. Brocklebank has come back with me. Where is Miss Vance?” - -Lynette replied for Miss Vance. - -“She had a headache, mother.” - -“I might have inferred something of the kind. Look at the front of your -dress, Lynette.” - -“Yes, mother.” - -“What have you been doing? And you have got a great hole in your left -stocking, over the knee.” - -“Yes, mother, so I have.” - -“Lynette, how often have I told you——” - -Mrs. Brocklebank or no Mrs. Brocklebank, Canterton interposed quietly in -Lynette’s defence. - -“If it’s anybody’s fault it’s mine, Gertrude. Let the child be a child -sometimes.” - -She turned on him impatiently, being only too conscious of the fact that -Lynette was his child, and not hers. - -“How can you expect me to have any authority? And in the end the -responsibility always rests with the woman.” - -“Perhaps—perhaps not. Run along, old lady. I’ll come and say good night -presently.” - -Lynette walked off to the south door, having no desire to be kissed by -Mrs. Brocklebank in the drawing-room. She turned and looked back once at -her father with a demure yet inimitable twinkle of the eyes. Canterton -was very much part of Lynette’s life. Her mother only dashed into it -with spasmodic earnestness, and with eyes that were fussily critical. -For though Gertrude Canterton always spoke of woman’s place being the -home, she was so much busied with reforming other people’s homes, and -setting all their social machinery in order, that she had very little -leisure left for her own. A housekeeper managed the house by letting -Mrs. Canterton think that she herself managed it. Miss Vance was almost -wholly responsible for Lynette, and Gertrude Canterton’s periodic -plunges into the domestic routine at Fernhill were like the surprise -visits of an inspector of schools. - -“Mrs. Brocklebank is staying the night. We have some business to discuss -with regard to the Children’s Home.” - -Canterton detested Mrs. Brocklebank, but he went in and shook hands with -her. She was a large woman, with the look of a very serious-minded white -cow. Her great point was her gravity. It was a massive and imposing -edifice which you could walk round and inspect, without being able to -get inside it. This building was fitted with a big clock that boomed -solemnly at regular intervals, always making the same sound, and making -it as though it were uttering some new and striking note. - -“I see you are one of those, Mr. Canterton, who like to let children run -wild.” - -“I suppose I am. I’d rather my child had fine legs and a good appetite -to begin with.” - -His wife joined in. - -“Lynette could not read when she was six.” - -“That was a gross crime, Gertrude, to be sure.” - -“It might be called symptomatic.” - -“Mrs. Brocklebank, my wife is too conscientious for some of us.” - -“Can one be too conscientious, Mr. Canterton?” - -“Well, I can never imagine Gertrude with holes in her stockings, or -playing at honey-pots. I believe you wrote a prize essay when you were -eleven, Gertrude, and the subject was, ‘How to teach children to play in -earnest.’ If you’ll excuse me, I have to see Lavender about one of the -hothouses before I dress for dinner.” - -He left them together, sitting like two solemn china figures nodding -their heads over his irresponsible love of _laissez-faire_. Mrs. -Brocklebank had no children, but she was a great authority upon them, in -a kind of pathological way. - -“I think you ought to make a stand, Gertrude.” - -“The trouble is, my husband’s ideas run the same way as the child’s -inclinations. I think I must get rid of Miss Vance. She is too -easygoing.” - -“The child ought soon to be old enough to go to school. Let me see, how -old is she?” - -“Seven.” - -“Send her away next year. There is that very excellent school at -Cheltenham managed by Miss Sandys. She was a wrangler, you know, and is -an LL.D. Her ideas are absolutely sound. Psychological discipline is one -of her great points.” - -“I must speak to James about it. He is such a difficult man to deal -with. So immovable, and always turning things into a kind of quiet -laughter.” - -“I know. Most difficult—most baffling.” - -Though three people sat down at the dinner table, it was a _diner à -deux_ so far as the conversation was concerned. The women discussed the -Primrose League Fête, and Lord Parallax, whom Gertrude Canterton had -found rather disappointing. From mere local topics they travelled into -the wilderness of eugenics, Mrs. Brocklebank treating of Mendelism, and -talking as though Canterton had never heard of Mendel. It amused him to -listen to her, especially since the work of such master men as Mendel -and De Vries formed part of the intimate inspiration of his own study of -the strange beauty of growth. Mrs. Brocklebank appeared to have muddled -up Mendelism with Galton’s theory of averages. She talked sententiously -of pure dominants and recessives, got her figures badly mixed, and -uttered some really astonishing things that would have thrilled a -scientific audience. - -Yet it was dreary stuff when devitalised by Mrs. Brocklebank’s pompous -inexactitudes, especially when accompanied by an interminable cracking -of nuts. She always ended lunch and dinner with nuts, munching them -slowly and solemnly, exaggerating her own resemblance to a white cow -chewing the cud. - -Canterton escaped upstairs, passed Miss Vance on the landing, a motherly -young woman with rich brown hair, and made his way to the nursery. The -room was full of the twilight, and through the open window came the last -notes of a thrush. Lynette was lying in a white bed with a green -coverlet. Her mother had ordered a pink bedspread, but Miss Vance had -thought of Lynette’s hair. - -Canterton sat on the edge of the bed. - -“Well, Princess, are you a pure dominant?” - -“I’ve said my prayers, daddy.” - -“Oh, that’s good—very good! I wonder how the feast is getting on in the -Wilderness?” - -“They won’t come out yet, not till the moon shines.” - -“Think of their little silver slippers twinkling like dewdrops on the -grass.” - -“I wish I could see them, daddy. Have you ever seen a fairy?” - -“I think I’ve caught a glimpse of one, now and again. But you have to be -ever so good to see fairies.” - -“You ought to have seen lots, then, daddy.” - -He laughed, the quiet, meditative laugh of the man wise in his own -humility. - -“There are more wonderful things than fairies, Lynette. I’ll tell you -about them some day.” - -“Yes, do.” - -She sat up in bed, her hair a dark flowing mass about her slim face and -throat, and Canterton was reminded of some exquisite white bud that -promised to be an exquisite flower. - -“Let’s have some rhymes, daddy.” - -“What, more Bed Ballads?” - -“Yes.” - -“What shall we start with?” - -“Begin with cat.” - -“All right, let’s see what turns up: - - “Outside the door there lay a cat, - Aunt Emma thought it was a mat, - And though poor Puss was rather fat, - Aunt Emma left her, simply—flat.” - -“Oh, poor Pussy!” - -“Rather too realistic for you, and too hard on the cat!” - -“Make up something about Mister Bruin.” - -“Bruin. That’s a stiff thing to rhyme to. Let’s see: - - “Now, Mister Bruin - Went a-wooin’, - The lady said ‘What are you doin’!’ - -“I’m stumped. I can’t get any farther.” - -“Oh, yes you can, daddy!” - -“Very well.” - - “Let’s call him Mr. Bear instead, - And say his mouth was very red. - Miss Bruin had a Paris gown on, - She was a sweet phenomenownon. - The gloves she wore were just nineteens, - Of course you know what that size means! - Mr. Bear wore thirty-ones, - But then he was so fond of buns. - He asked Miss B. to be his wife, - And said, ‘I will lay down my life.’ - She answered him, ‘Now, how much money - Can you afford, and how much honey?’ - Poor B. looked rather brown at that, - For he was not a plutocrat. - ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘it makes me sore, - That I should be so very poor. - I’ll start a bun shop, if you like, - And buy you a new motor-bike.’ - She said, ‘I know where all the buns would go, - And motor biking’s much too low.’ - Poor Teddy flew off in disgust, - Saying, ‘Marry a Marquis if you must.’” - -Lynette clapped her hands. - -“What a horrid Miss Bruin! I hope she died an old maid!” - -“No, she married Lord Grizzley. And he gave her twopence a week to dress -on, and made her give him her fur to stuff his bath-chair cushions -with.” - -“How splendid! That’s just what ought to have happened, daddy.” - -When he had kissed her “good night,” and seen her snuggle down with her -hair spread out over the pillow, Canterton went down to the library and, -in passing the door of the drawing-room, heard Mrs. Brocklebank’s voice -sending out its slow, complacent notes. This woman always had a curious -psychical effect on him. She smeared all the fine outlines of life, and -brought an unpleasant odour into the house that penetrated everywhere. -What was more, she had the effect of making him look at his wife with -that merciless candour that discovers every crudity, and every trifle -that is unlovely. Gertrude was a most excellent woman. He saw her high -forehead, her hat tilted at the wrong angle, her hair straggling in -wisps, her finnicking vivacity, her thin, wriggling shoulders, the way -she mouthed her words and poked her chin forward when she talked. The -clarity of his vision often shocked him, especially when he tried to -remember her as a slim and rather over-enthusiastic girl. Had they both -changed so vastly, and why? He knew that his wife had become subtly -repulsive to him, not in the mere gross physical sense alone, but in her -mental odour. They ate together, but slept apart. He never entered her -room. The idea of touching her provoked some fastidious instinct within -him, and made him shrink from the imagined contact. - -Sometimes he wondered whether Gertrude was aware of this strong and -incipient repulsion. He imagined that she felt nothing. He had not lived -with her for fifteen years without discovering how thick was the skin of -her restless egotism. Canterton had never known anyone who was so -completely and actively self-satisfied. He never remembered having seen -her in tears. As for their estrangement, it had come about gradually -when he had chosen to change the life of the amateur for the life of the -trader. Then there was the child, another gulf between them. A tacit yet -silent antagonism had grown up round Lynette. - -On Canterton’s desk in the library lay the manuscript of his “Book of -the English Garden.” He had been at work on it for two years, trying to -get all the mystery and colour and beauty of growth into the words he -used. - -He sat down at the desk, and turned over the pages written in that -strong, regular, and unhurried hand of his. The manuscript smelt of -lavender, for he always kept a few sprigs between the leaves. But -to-night something seemed lacking in the book. It was too much a thing -of black and white. The words did not strike upon his brain and evoke a -glow of living colour. Roses were not red enough, and the torch lily had -not a sufficient flame. - -“Colour, yes, colour!” - -He sat back and lit his pipe. - -“I must get someone to start the plates. I know just what I want, but I -don’t quite know the person to do it.” - -He talked to himself—within himself. - -“Rogers? No, too flamboyant, not true. I want truth. There’s Peterson. -No, I don’t like Peterson’s style—too niggling. Loses the charm in -trying to be too correct.” - -He was disturbed by the opening of a door, and a sudden swelling of -voices towards him. He half turned in his chair with the momentary -impatience of a thinker disturbed. - -“Let us look it up under ‘hygiene.’” - -The library door opened, and the invasion displayed itself. - -“We want to look at the encyclopædia, James.” - -“It’s there!” - -“I always feel so stimulated when I am in a library, Mr. Canterton. I -hope you don’t mind our——” - -“Oh, not in the least!” - -“I think we might make our notes here, Gertrude.” - -Gertrude Canterton was standing by a revolving book-stand looking out -the volume they needed. - -“Yes. James, you might get us the other light, and put it on the table.” - -He got up, fetched the portable red-shaded lamp from a book-stand, set -it on the oak table in the centre of the room, and turned on the switch. - -“Oh, and the ink, and a pen. Not one of your nibs. I can’t bear J’s.” - -“Something thinner?” - -“Please. Oh, and some paper. Some of that manuscript paper will do.” - -They established themselves at the table, Mrs. Brocklebank with the -volume, Gertrude with the pen and paper. Mrs. Brocklebank brought out -her pince-nez, adjusted them half down her nose, and began to turn over -the pages. Canterton took a book on moths from a shelf, and sat down in -an easy chair. - -“Hum—Hygiene. I find it here—public health, sanitary by-laws; -hum—hum—sewage systems. I think we shall discover what we want. Ah, -here it is!” - -“The matron told me——” - -“Yes, exactly. They had to burn pastilles. Hum—hum—septic tank. My -dear, what is a septic tank?” - -“Something not quite as it should be.” - -“Ah, exactly! I understand. Hum—let me see. Their tank must be very -septic. That accounts for—hum—for the odour.” - -Canterton watched them over the top of his book. He could see his wife’s -face plainly. She was frowning and biting the end of the pen, and -fidgeting with the paper. He noticed the yellow tinge of the skin, and -the eager and almost hungry shadow lines that ran from her nose to the -corners of her mouth. It was a passionless face, angular and restless, -utterly lacking in any inward imaginative glow. Gertrude Canterton -rushed at life, fiddled at the notes with her thin fingers, but had no -subtle understanding of the meaning of the sounds that were produced. - -Mrs. Brocklebank read like a grave cleric at a lectern, head tilted -slightly back, her eyes looking down through her pince-nez. - -“The bacterial action should produce an effluent that is perfectly clear -and odourless. My dear, I think—hum—that there is a misconception -somewhere.” - -Neither of them noticed that Canterton had left them, and had -disappeared through the French window into the garden. - -A full moon had risen, and in one of the shrubberies a nightingale was -singing. The cedar of Lebanon and the great sequoia were black and -mysterious and very still, the lawns a soft silver dusted ever so -lightly with dew. Not a leaf was stirring, and the pale night stood like -a sweet sad ghost looking down on the world with eyes of wisdom and of -wonder. - -Canterton strolled across the grass, and down through the Japanese -garden where lilies floated in the still pools that reflected the -moonlight. All the shadows were very sharp and black, the cypresses -standing like obelisks, the yew hedge of the rosery a wall of obsidian. -Canterton wandered up and down the stone paths of the rosery, and -knocked his pipe out in order to smell the faint perfumes that lingered -in the still air. He had lived so much among flowers that his sense of -smell had become extraordinarily sensitive, and he could distinguish -many a rose in the dark by means of its perfume. The full moon stared at -him over the yew hedge, huge and yellow in a cloudless sky, and -Canterton thought of Lynette’s fairies down in the Wilderness tripping -round the fairy ring on the dewy grass. - -The sense of an increasing loneliness forced itself upon him as he -walked up and down the paths of the rosery. For of late he had come to -know that he was lonely, in spite of Lynette, in spite of all his -fascinating problems, in spite of his love of life and of growth. That -was just it. He loved the colours, the scents, and the miraculous -complexities of life so strongly that he wanted someone to share this -love, someone who understood, someone who possessed both awe and -curiosity. Lynette was very dear to him, dearer than anything else on -earth, but she was the child, and doubtless he would lose her when she -became the woman. - -He supposed that some day she would marry, and the thought of it almost -shocked him. Good God, what a lottery it was! He might have to hand her -over to some raw boy—and if life proved unkind to her! Well, after all, -it was Nature. And how did marriages come about? How had his own come -about? What on earth had made him marry Gertrude? What on earth made -most men marry most women? He had been shy, rather diffident, a big -fellow in earnest, and he remembered how Gertrude had made a little hero -of him because of his travels. Yes, he supposed it had been suggestion. -Every woman, the lure of the feminine thing, a dim notion that they -would be fellow enthusiasts, and that the woman was what he had imagined -woman to be. - -Canterton smiled to himself, but the pathetic humour of life did not -make him feel any less lonely. He wanted someone who would walk with him -on such a night as this, someone to whom it was not necessary to say -trite things, someone to whom a touch of the hand would be eloquent, -someone who had his patient, watchful, wonder-obsessed soul. He was not -spending half of himself, because he could not pour out one half of all -that was in him. It seemed a monstrous thing that a man should have -taught himself to see so much, and that he should have no one to see -life with him as he saw it. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER III - - - GUINEVERE HAS HER PORTRAIT PAINTED - - -The second day of Guinevere’s dawning found Canterton in the rosery, -under the white tent umbrella. It was just such a day as yesterday, with -perhaps a few more white galleons sailing the sky and making the blue -seem even bluer. - -Guinevere’s first bud was opening to the sun, the coral pink outer -petals with their edging of saffron unfolding to show a heart of fire. - -About eleven o’clock Lavender, the foreman, appeared in the rosery, an -alert, wiry figure in sun hat, rich brown trousers, and a blue check -shirt. Lavender was swarthy and reticent, with a pronounced chin, and a -hooked nose that was like the inquiring beak of a bird. He had -extraordinarily deep-set eyes, and these eyes of his were the man. He -rarely missed seeing anything, from the first tinge of rust on a rose, -to the beginnings of American blight on a fruit tree. As for his work, -Lavender was something of a fanatic and a Frenchman. Go-as-you-please -dullards did not like him. He was too ubiquitous, too shrewd, too -enthusiastic, too quick in picking out a piece of scamped work, too -sarcastic when he found a thing done badly. Lavender could label -everything, and his technical knowledge was superb. Canterton paid him -five hundred a year, knowing that the man was worth it. - -Lavender came with a message, but he forgot it the moment he looked at -the rose. His swarthy face lost all its reticence, and his eyes seemed -to take fire under their overhanging eyebrows. He had a way of standing -with his body bent slightly forward, his hands spread on the seat of his -trousers, and when he was particularly interested or puzzled he rubbed -his hands up and down with varying degrees of energy. - -“She’s out, sir!” - -“What do you think of her, Lavender?” - -The foreman bent over the rose, and seemed to inhale something that he -found intoxicatingly pleasant. - -“You’ve got it, sir. She’s up above anything that has been brought out -yet. Look at the way she’s opening! You can almost see the fire pouring -out. It’s alive—the colour’s alive.” - -Canterton smiled. - -“Just like a little furnace all aglow.” - -“That flower ought to make the real people rave! It’s almost too good -for the blessed public. Any pinky thing does for the public.” - -“I am going to send the second flower to Mr. Woolridge.” - -“He’ll go down on his knees and pray to it.” - -“So much the better for us. If anyone’s praise is worth hearing his is.” - -“He’s a wonder, sir, for a clergyman!” - -Lavender rubbed his trousers, and then suddenly remembered what he had -come for. - -“There’s a lady, sir, in the office. Wants to know whether she may come -into the nursery and do some painting.” - -“Who is she?” - -“Miss Carfax from Orchards Corner. I said I’d come and see you about -it.” - -“Miss Carfax? I don’t remember.” - -“They’ve been there about a year. The mother’s an invalid. Quiet sort of -woman.” - -“Oh, well, I’ll see her, Lavender.” - -“Shall I bring her here?” - -“Yes. I don’t want to leave the rose till I have seen the whole cycle. -And Mrs. Canterton said she was sending one of the maids down to cut -some roses.” - -Lavender went off, and returned in about five minutes with a girl in a -straw hat and a plain white linen dress. He stood in one of the openings -through the yew hedge and pointed out Canterton to her with a practical -forefinger. - -“That’s Mr. Canterton over there.” - -She thanked him and walked on. - -Canterton was bending forward over the rose, and remained unaware of her -presence till he heard footsteps close to him on the paved path. - -“Mr. Canterton?” - -“Yes.” - -He stood up, and lifted his hat. She was shy of him, and shy of asking -for what she had come to ask. Her blue eyes, with their large pupils -looked almost black—sensitive eyes that clouded quickly. - -“I am afraid I am disturbing you.” - -He liked her from the first moment, because of her voice, a voice that -spoke softly in a minor key, and did not seem in a hurry. - -“No, not a bit.” - -“I’m Miss Carfax, and I paint a little. I wondered whether you would let -me come and make some studies in your gardens.” - -“Won’t you sit down?” - -He turned the chair towards her, but she remained standing, her shyness -lifting a little under the spell of his tranquil bigness. She became -aware suddenly of the rosery. Her eyes swept it, glimmered, and -something seemed to rise in her throat. - -“Nothing but roses!” - -Canterton found himself studying her profile, with its straight, low -forehead, short nose, and sensitive mouth and chin. Her hair was a -dense, lustrous black, waved back from the forehead, without hiding the -shapeliness of her head. She wore a blouse that was cut low at the -throat, so that the whole neck showed, slim but perfect, curving forward -very slightly, so that her head was poised like the head of one who was -listening. There was something flower-like in her figure, with its lithe -fragility clothed in the simple white spathe of her dress. - -Canterton saw her nostrils quivering. Her throat and bosom seemed to -dilate. - -“How perfect it is!” - -“Almost at its best just now.” - -“They make one feel very humble, these flowers. A paint brush seems so -superfluous.” - -For the moment her consciousness had become merged and lost in the -colours around her. She spoke to Canterton as though he were some -impersonal spirit, the genius of the place, a mind and not a man. - -“There must be hundreds of roses here.” - -“Yes, some hundreds.” - -“And the dark wall of that yew hedge shows up the colours.” - -Canterton felt a curious piquing of his curiosity. The girl was a new -creation to him, and she was strangely familiar, a plant brought from a -new country—like and yet unlike something that he already knew. - -He showed her Guinevere. - -“How do you like this rose—here?” - -Her consciousness returned from its voyage of wonder, and became aware -of him as a man. - -“Which one?” - -“Here. It is the latest thing I have raised.” - -It was an imaginative whim on his part, but as she bent over the rose he -fancied that the flower glowed with a more miraculous fire, and that its -radiance spread to the girl’s face. - -“This is wonderful. The shading is so perfect. You know, it is a most -extraordinary mixing and blending of colours.” - -“That was just the problem. Whether the flower would turn out a mere -garish, gaudy thing.” - -“But it is exquisite.” - -“I have been sitting here for two whole days watching the bud open.” - -She turned to him with an impulsive flash of the eye. - -“Have you? I like the idea of that. Just watching the dawn.” - -Her shyness had gone, and Canterton felt that an extraordinary thing had -happened. She no longer seemed a stranger among his roses, although she -had not been more than ten minutes in the rosery. - -“Nature opens her secret doors only to those who are patient.” - -“And what a fascinating life! Like becoming very tiny, just a fairy, and -letting oneself down into the heart of a rose.” - -He had it, the thing that had puzzled him. She was just such a child as -Lynette, save that she was the woman. There was the same wonder, the -same delightful half-earnest playfulness, the same seeing look in the -eyes, the same sensitive quiver about the mouth. - -She was gazing at Guinevere. - -“Oh, that piques me, challenges me!” - -“What, the flower?” - -“It makes me think of the conquest of colours that I want to try.” - -He understood. - -“Come and paint it.” - -“May I?” - -“Certainly.” - -“If I might come and try.” - -“You had better come soon.” - -“This afternoon?” - -“Why not?” - -“It is very good of you, Mr. Canterton.” - -“Not a bit.” - -“Then I’ll come.” - -She kept to her word, and reappeared about two o’clock with her paint -box, a camp stool, and a drawing-block. Canterton had lunched in the -rosery. He surrendered his place under the white umbrella, made her sit -in the shade, and went to fetch a jug of water for her brushes. He -rejoined her, bringing another garden chair with him, and so it happened -that they spent the afternoon together. - -Canterton smoked and read, while Eve Carfax was busy with her brushes. -She seemed absorbed in her work, and Canterton, looking up from his book -from time to time, watched her without being noticed. The intent poise -of her head reminded him vaguely of some picture he had seen. Her mouth -had a meditative tenderness, and her eyes were full of a quiet delight. - -Presently she sat back in her chair, and held the sketch at arm’s -length. Her eyes became more critical, questioning, and there was a -quiver of indecision about her mouth. - -“Have you finished it?” - -She glanced at him as though startled. - -“In a way. But I can’t quite make up my mind.” - -“May I see?” - -She passed him the block and watched his face as he examined the work. -Once or twice he glanced at Guinevere. Then he stood up, and putting the -painting on the chair, looked at it from a little distance. - -“Excellent.” - -She flushed. - -“Do you think so?” - -“I have never seen a better flower picture.” - -“It is such a subtle study in colours that I could not be sure.” - -“You must be very self-critical.” - -“Oh, I am!” - -He turned and looked at her with a new expression, the respect of the -expert for an expert’s abilities. - -“You have made a study of flowers?” - -“Yes.” - -“Of course you must have done. I ought to know that.” - -Her colour grew richer. - -“Mr. Canterton, I don’t think I have ever had such praise. I mean, -praise that I valued. I love flowers so much, and you know them so -intimately.” - -“That we understand them together.” - -He almost added, “and each other.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - - THE IMPORTUNATE BEGGAR - - -As Lavender had said, the Carfaxes lived at Orchards Corner. - -Approaching the place you saw a line of scattered oaks and Scots firs, -with straggling thorns and hollies between them along the line of a -chestnut fence that had turned green with mould. Beyond the hollies and -thorns rose the branches of an orchard, and beyond the orchard a -plantation of yews, hollies, and black spruces. The house or cottage was -hardly distinguishable till you turned down into the lane from the high -road. It betrayed itself merely by the corner of a white window frame, -the top of a red-brick chimney, and a patch of lichened tiling visible -through the tangle of foliage. - -The Carfaxes had been here a year, the mother having been ordered -country air and a dry soil. They had sublet the orchard to a farmer who -grazed sheep there, but had kept the vegetable garden with its old black -loam, and the plot in front with its two squares of grass, filling -nearly all the space between the house and the white palings. The grass -was rather coarse and long, the Carfaxes paying a man to scythe it two -or three times during the summer. There were flower-beds under the -fence, and on every side of the two pieces of grass, and standard roses -flanking the gravel path. - -Eve met the man with the scythe in the lane as she walked home after her -second day at Fernhill. She found her mother dozing in her basket-chair -in the front garden where a holly tree threw a patch of shadow on the -grass. Mrs. Carfax had her knitting-needles and a ball of white wool in -her lap. She was wearing a lilac sun-bonnet, and a grey-coloured shawl. - -The click of the gate-latch woke her. - -“Have you had tea, mother?” - -“No, dear; I thought I would wait for you.” - -Mrs. Carfax was a pretty old lady with blue eyes and a rather foolish -face. She was remarkable for her sweetness, an obstinate sweetness that -had the consistency of molasses, and refused to be troubled, let Fate -stir ever so viciously. Her passivity could be utterly exasperating. She -had accepted the whole order of the Victorian Age, as she had known it, -declining to see any flaws in the structure, and ascribing any trifling -vexations to the minute and multifarious fussiness of the Deity. - -“You ought to have had tea, mother.” - -“My dear, I never mind waiting.” - -“Would you like it brought out here?” - -“Just as you please, dear.” - -It was not daughterly, but Eve sometimes wished that her mother had a -temper, and could use words that elderly gentlewomen are not expected to -be acquainted with. There was something so explosively refreshing about -the male creature’s hearty “Oh, damn!” - -That cooing, placid voice never lost its sweetness. It was the same when -it rained, when the wind howled for days, when the money was shorter -than usual, when Eve’s drawings were returned by unsympathetic -magazines. Mrs. Carfax underlined the adjectives in her letters, and had -a little proverbial platitude for every catastrophe, were it a broken -soap dish or a railway smash. “Patience is a virtue, my dear.” “Rome was -not built in a day.” “The world is not helped by worry.” Mrs. Carfax had -an annuity of £100 a year, and Eve made occasional small sums by her -paintings. They were poor, poor with that respectable poverty that -admits of no margins and no adventures. - -Mrs. Carfax was supremely contented. She prayed nightly that she might -be spared to keep a home for Eve, never dreaming that the daughter -suffered from fits of bitter restlessness when anything seemed better -than this narrow and prospectless tranquillity. Mrs. Carfax had never -been young. She had accepted everything, from her bottle onwards, with -absolute passivity. She had been a passive child, a passive wife, a -passive widow. Life had had no gradients, no gulfs and pinnacles. There -were no injustices and no sorrows, save, of course, those arranged by an -all-wise Providence. No ideals, save those in the Book of Common Prayer; -no passionate strivings; no divine discontents. She just cooed, brought -out a soft platitude, and went on with her knitting. - -Eve entered the house to put her things away, and to tell Nellie, the -infant maid, to take tea out into the garden. - -“Take tea out, Nellie.” - -“Yes, miss. There ain’t no cake.” - -“I thought I told you to bake one.” - -“Yes, miss. There ain’t no baking powder.” - -“Oh, very well. I’ll order some. Put a little jam out.” - -“There only be gooseberry, miss.” - -“Then we’ll say gooseberry.” - -Eve returned to the garden in time to hear the purr of a motor-car in -the main road. The car stopped at the end of the lane. A door banged, -and a figure in black appeared beyond the gate. - -It was the Cantertons’ car that had stopped at the end of the lane, and -it was Mrs. Canterton who opened the gate, smiling and nodding at Mrs. -Carfax. Gertrude Canterton had paid a first formal call some months ago, -leaving in Eve’s mind the picture of a very expeditious woman who might -whirl down on you in an aeroplane, make a few remarks on the weather, -and then whirl off again. - -“Please don’t get up! Please don’t get up! I mustn’t stay three minutes. -Isn’t the weather exquisite. Ah, how do you do, Miss Carfax?” - -She extended a hand with an affected flick of the wrist, smiling all the -while, and wriggling her shoulders. - -“Eve, fetch another chair, dear.” - -“Oh, please don’t bother!” - -“We are just going to have tea, Mrs. Canterton.” - -Eve gave her mother a warning look, but Mrs. Carfax never noticed other -people’s faces. - -“Tell Nellie, dear.” - -Eve walked off to the house, chiefly conscious of the fact that there -was no cake for tea. How utterly absurd it was that one should chafe -over such trifles. But then, with women like Mrs. Canterton, it was -necessary to have one’s pride dressed to the very last button. - -Two extra chairs and tea arrived. The conversation was never in danger -of death when Gertrude Canterton was responsible for keeping up a babble -of sound. If the other people were mute and reticent, she talked about -herself and her multifarious activities. These filled all gaps. - -“I must say I like having tea in the garden. You are, really, most -sheltered here. Sugar? No, I don’t take sugar in tea—only in coffee, -thank you.” - -“It does rather spoil the flavour.” - -“We have a very exquisite tea sent straight to us from a friend of my -husband’s in Ceylon. It rather spoils me, and I have got out of the way -of taking sugar. How particular we become, don’t we? It is so easy to -become selfish. That reminds me. I want to interest our neighbourhood in -a society that has been started in London. What a problem London is.” - -Mrs. Carfax cooed sympathetically. - -“And the terrible lives the people lead. We are very interested in the -poor shop girls, and we have started an organisation which we call ‘The -Shop Girls’ Rest Society.’” - -“Eve, perhaps Mrs. Canterton will have some cake.” - -Eve was on edge, and full of vague feelings of defiance. - -“I’m sorry, there isn’t any cake.” - -“Eve, dear!” - -“Oh, please, I so rarely take cake. Bread and butter is so much more -hygienic and natural. I was going to tell you that this society we have -started is going to provide shop girls with country holidays.” - -“How very nice!” - -Mrs. Carfax felt that she had to coo more sweetly because of the absence -of cake. - -“I think it is quite an inspiration. We want to get people to take a -girl for a week or a fortnight and give her good food, fresh air, and a -sense of homeliness. How much the home means to women.” - -“Everything, Mrs. Canterton. Woman’s place is the home.” - -“Exactly. And I was wondering, Mrs. Carfax, whether you would be -prepared to help us. Of course, we shall see to it that the girls are -really nice and proper persons.” - -The thought of the absence of cake still lingered, and Mrs. Carfax felt -apologetic. - -“I am sure, Mrs. Canterton, I shall be glad——” - -Eve had grown stiffer and stiffer, watching the inevitable approach of -the inevitable beggar. Gertrude Canterton had a genius for wriggling her -way everywhere, even into other people’s bedrooms, and would be putting -them down for ten guineas before they were half awake. - -“I am sorry, but I’m afraid it is out of the question.” - -She spoke rather brusquely, and Gertrude Canterton turned with an -insinuating scoop of the chin. - -“Miss Carfax, do let me——” - -“Eve, dear, I’m sure——” - -Eve was stonily practical. - -“It is quite impossible.” - -“But, Eve——” - -“You know, mother, we haven’t a bed.” - -“My dear!” - -“And no spare bedclothes. Mrs. Canterton may as well be told the truth.” - -There was a short silence. Mrs. Carfax looked as ruffled as it was -possible for her to look, settled her shawl, and glanced inquiringly at -Mrs. Canterton. But even to Gertrude Canterton the absence of bedclothes -seemed final. - -“I am sure, Mrs. Carfax, you would have helped us, if you had been -able.” - -Eve persisted in being regarded as the responsible authority. She was -quite shameless now that she had shown Mrs. Canterton the empty -cupboard. - -“You see, we have only one small maid, and everything is so adjusted, -that we just manage to get along.” - -“Exactly so, Miss Carfax. I quite understand. But there is a little -thing you could do for us. I always think that living in a neighbourhood -makes one responsible for one’s poorer neighbours. I am sure, Mrs. -Carfax, that you will give a small subscription to the Coal and Clothing -Club.” - -“With pleasure.” - -“It doesn’t matter how small it is.” - -“Eve, dear, please go and fetch me some silver. I should like to -subscribe five shillings. May I give it to you, Mrs. Canterton?” - -“Thank you so very much. I will send you a receipt.” - -Eve had risen and walked off resignedly towards the cottage. It was she -who was responsible for all the petty finance of the household, and five -shillings were five shillings when one’s income was one hundred pounds a -year. It could not be spared from the housekeeping purse, for the money -in it was partitioned out to the last penny. Eve went to her own room, -and took a green leather purse from the rosewood box on her -dressing-table. This purse held such sums as she could save from the -sale of occasional small pictures and fashion plates. It contained -seventeen shillings at this particular moment. Five shillings were to -have gone on paints, ten on a new pair of shoes, and two on some cheap -material for a blouse. - -She was conscious of making instinctive calculations as she took out two -half-crowns. What a number of necessities these two pieces of silver -would buy, and the ironical part of it was that she could not paint -without paints, or walk without shoes. It struck her as absurd that a -fussy fool like this Canterton woman should be able to cause so much -charitable inconvenience. Why had she not refused point blank, in spite -of her mother’s pleading eyes? - -Eve returned to the garden and handed Mrs. Canterton the two half-crowns -without a word. It was blackmail levied by a restless craze for -incessant charitable activities. Eve would not have grudged it had it -gone straight to a fellow-worker in distress, but to give it to this -rich woman who went round wringing shillings out of cottagers! - -“Thank you so much. Money is always so badly needed.” - -Eve agreed with laconic irony. - -“It is, isn’t it? Especially when you have to earn it!” - -Gertrude Canterton chatted for another five minutes and then rose to go. -She shook hands cordially with Mrs. Carfax, and was almost as cordial -with Eve. And it was this blind, self-contentment of hers that made her -so universally detested. She never knew when people’s bristles were up, -and having a hide like leather, she wriggled up and rubbed close, never -suspecting that most people were possessed by a savage desire to say -some particularly stinging thing that should bite through all the -thickness of her egotism. - -“Thank goodness!” - -“Eve, you were quite rude! And you need not have said, dear——” - -“Mother, I told the truth only in self-defence. I was expecting some -other deserving charity to arrive at any moment.” - -“It is better to give, dear, than to receive.” - -“Is it? Of course, we needn’t pay the tradesmen, and we can send the -money to some missionary agency.” - -“Eve, dear, please don’t be flippant. A word spoken in jest——” - -“I’m not, mother. I’m most desperately serious.” - -Gertrude Canterton had a very successful afternoon. She motored about -forty miles, trifled with three successive teas, and bored some seven -householders into promising to consider the claims of the Shop Girls’ -Rest Society. She was very talkative at dinner, describing and -criticising the various people from whom she had begged. - -Canterton showed sudden annoyance. - -“You went to the Carfaxes?” - -“Yes.” - -“And got something from them?” - -“Of course, James.” - -“You shouldn’t go to such people.” - -Her face was all sallow surprise. - -“Why, they are quite respectable, and——” - -“Respectable! Do you think I meant that! You know, Gertrude, you -charitable people are desperately hard sometimes on the real poor.” - -“What _do_ you mean, James?” - -“People like the Carfaxes ought not to be worried. You are so infernally -energetic!” - -“James, I protest!” - -“Oh, well, let it pass.” - -“If you mean——Of course, I can send the money back.” - -He looked at her with a curious and wondering severity. - -“I shouldn’t do that, Gertrude. Some people are rather sensitive.” - -Canterton went into the library after dinner, before going up to say -“good night” to Lynette. Within the last two days some knowledge of the -Carfaxes and their life had come to him, fortuitously, and yet with a -vividness that had roused his sympathy. For though James Canterton had -never lacked for money, he had that intuitive vision that gives a man -understanding and compassion. - -His glance fell upon the manuscript of “The Book of the English Garden” -lying open on his desk. An idea struck him. Why should not Eve Carfax -give the colour to this book? To judge by her portrait of Guinevere, -hers was the very art that he needed. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER V - - - EVE ENTERS THE WILDERNESS - - -Eve Carfax read James Canterton’s letter at breakfast, and her mother, -who like many passive people, was vapidly inquisitive, wanted to know -when the letter had come, why it had been written, what it said, and -what it did not say. - -Eve was a little flushed, and ready to fall into a reverie while looking -along a vista of sudden possibilities. This frank and straightforward -letter had brought a flutter of exultation into her life. - -“Mr. Canterton wants me to do some flower pictures for him.” - -“How nice, dear! And shall you?” - -“Of course—if I can.” - -“It must have been our subscription to——” - -“Mother, is it likely?” - -“I am sure Mrs. Canterton was most charming. Is he going to pay you -for——” - -“He doesn’t say anything about it.” - -“He might not think it quite nice to say anything—just at first.” - -“I really don’t know why it shouldn’t be nice to mention a thing that we -all must have. He wants me to go and see him.” - -Eve set off for Fernhill with a delightful sense of exhilaration. She -was in a mood to laugh, especially at the incident of yesterday, and at -the loss of those two half-crowns that had seemed so tragic and -depressing. This might be her first big bit of luck, the beginning of a -wider, finer life for which she yearned. She was amused at her mother’s -idea about Mrs. Canterton. Mrs. Canterton indeed! Why—the flow of her -thoughts was sharply arrested, and held back by the uprising of a -situation that suddenly appeared before her as something extraordinarily -incongruous. These two people were married. This fussy, sallow-faced, -fidgeting egotist, and this big, meditative, colour-loving man. What on -earth were they doing living together in the same house. And what on -earth was she herself doing letting her thoughts wander into affairs -that did not concern her. - -She suppressed the curious feeling of distaste the subject inspired in -her, took a plunge into a cold bath of self-restraint, and came out -close knit and vigorous. Eve Carfax had a very fastidious pride that -detested anything that could be described as vulgarly curious. She -wanted no one to finger her own intimate self, and she recoiled -instinctively from any tendency on her own part towards taking back-door -views of life. She was essentially clean, with an ideal whiteness that -yet could flush humanly. But the idea of contemplating the soiled petals -of other people’s ideals repelled her. - -Eve entered the Fernhill Nurseries by the great oak gates that opened -through a high hedge of arbor vitæ. She found herself in a large -gravelled space, a kind of quadrangle surrounded by offices, storerooms, -stables, and packing sheds, all built in the old English style of oak, -white plaster, and red tiles. The extraordinary neatness of the place -struck her. It was like a big forecourt to the mysteries beyond. - -She had her hand on the office bell when Canterton came out, having seen -her through the window. He was in white flannels, and wearing a straw -hat that deepened the colour of his eyes and skin. - -“Good morning! We both appear to be punctual people.” - -He was smiling, and looking at her attentively. - -“It was good of you to come up at once. I left it open. I think it would -be a good idea if I took you over the whole place.” - -She answered his smile, losing a momentary shyness. - -“I should like to see everything. Do you know, Mr. Canterton, you have -set me up on the high horse, and——” - -“Well?” - -“I don’t want to fall off. I have been having thrills of delightful -dread.” - -“I know; just what a man feels before an exam., when he is pretty sure -of himself.” - -“I don’t know that I am sure of myself.” - -“If you can paint other things as you painted that rose, I don’t think -there is any need for you to worry.” - -The quiet assurance of his praise sent a shiver of exultation through -her. What an encouraging and comforting person he was. He just intimated -that he believed you could do a thing very well, and the thing itself -seemed half done. - -“Then I’ll show you the whole place. I’m a bit of an egotist in my way.” - -“It’s only showing someone what you have created.” - -He took her everywhere, beginning with what he called “the -administrative department.” She saw the great glass-houses, the stacks -of bracken for packing, the piles of ash and chestnut stakes, the shed -where three old men spent their time making big baskets and hampers, the -rows and rows of frames, the packing and dispatch sheds, the seed room, -the little laboratory, with its microscopes and microtome and shelves of -bottles, the office where several clerks were constantly at work. - -Canterton was apologetic. - -“I have a craze for showing everything.” - -“It gives one insight. I like it.” - -“It won’t tire you?” - -“I think I am a very healthy young woman.” - -He looked at the fresh face, and at the lithe though fragile figure, and -felt somehow that the June day had an indefinable perfume. - -“I should like to show you some of the young conifers.” - -They were wonderful trees with wonderful names, quaint, solemn, and -diminutive, yet with all the dignity of forests patriarchs. They grew in -groves and companies, showing all manner of colours, dense metallic -greens, soft blues, golds, silvers, greys, green blacks, ambers. Each -tree had beauties and characteristics of its own. They were diminutive -models of a future maturity, solemn children that would be cedars, -cypresses, junipers, pines and yews. - -They delighted Eve. - -“Oh, the little people, ready to grow up! I never knew there were such -trees—and such colours.” - -He saw the same look in her eyes as he had seen in the rosery, the same -tenderness about the mouth. - -“I walk about here sometimes and wonder where they will all go to.” - -“Yes, isn’t it strange.” - -“Some day I want to do a book on trees.” - -“Do you? What’s the name of that dear Japanese-looking infant there?” - -“Retinospora Densa. You know, we nurserymen and some of the botanists -quarrel about names.” - -“What does it matter? I tried to study botany, but the jargon——” - -“Yes, it is pretty hopeless. I played a joke once on some of our -botanical friends; sent them a queer thing I had had sent from China, -and labelled it Cantertoniana Gloria in Excelsis. They took it quite -seriously.” - -“The dears!” - -Laughter passed between them, and an intimate flashing of the eyes that -told how the joy of life welled up and met. They wandered on through -acres of glowing maples, golden privets and elders, purple leaved plums, -arbutus, rhododendrons, azaleas, and all manner of flowering shrubs. In -one quiet corner an old gardener with a white beard was budding roses. -Elsewhere men were hoeing the alleys between the straight rows of young -forest trees, poplars, birches, elms, beeches, ilexes, mountain ashes, -chestnuts, and limes. There were acres of fruit trees, acres of roses, -acres of the commoner kind of evergreens, great waves of glooming green -rolling with a glisten of sunlight over the long slopes of the earth. -Eve grew more silent. She was all eyes—all wonder. It seemed futile to -exclaim when there was so much beauty everywhere. - -They came at last to a pleasaunce that was the glory of the hour, an -herbaceous garden in full bloom, with brick-paved paths, box edging, and -here and there an old tree stump or a rough arch smothered with -clematis, or honeysuckle. Delphiniums in every shade of blue rose like -the crowded and tapering _flèches_ of a mediæval city. There were white -lilies, gaudy gaillardias blazing like suns, campanulas, violas, -foxgloves, snapdragons, mauve erigeron, monkshood, English iris, and -scores of other plants. It was gorgeous, and yet full of subtle -gradations of colour, like some splendid Persian carpet in which strange -dyes merged and mingled. Bees hummed everywhere. Old red brick walls, -half covered with various kinds of ivy, formed a mellow background. And -away on the horizon floated the blue of the Surrey hills. - -Eve stood motionless, lips slightly apart. - -“Mr. Canterton!” - -“You like it?” - -“Am I to paint this?” - -“I hope so.” - -“Let me pour out my humility.” - -He laughed gently. - -“Oh, you can do it!” - -“Can I? And the old walls! I should not have thought the place was so -old.” - -“It isn’t. I bought my bricks. Some old cottages were being pulled -down.” - -“Thank God, sometimes, for money!” - -She stood a moment, her chin raised, her eyes throwing long, level -glances down the walks. - -“Mr. Canterton, let me do two or three trial sketches before you decide -anything.” - -“Just as you like.” - -“Please tell me exactly what you want.” - -“I want you to begin here, and in the rosery. You see this book of mine -is going to be a big thing, a treasure house for the real people who -want to know. I shall need portraits of individual flowers, and studies -of colour effects during the different months. I shall also want -illustrations of many fine gardens that have been put at my service. -That is to say, I may have to ask you to travel about a little, to paint -some of the special things, such as the Ryecroft Dutch garden, and the -Italian gardens at Latimer.” - -As he spoke the horizon of her life seemed to broaden before her. It was -like the breaking through of a winter dawn when the grey crevices of the -east fill with sudden fire. Everything looked bigger, more wonderful, -more alluring. - -“I had no idea——” - -He was watching her face. - -“Well?” - -“That it was to be such a big thing.” - -“It may take me two or three more years. I have allowed myself five -years for the book.” - -She drew in her breath. - -“Mr. Canterton, I don’t know what to say. And I don’t think you realise -what you are offering me. Just—life, more life. But it almost frightens -me that you should think——” - -His eyes smiled at her understandingly. - -“Paint me a few trial pieces. Begin with one of the borders here, and a -rose bed in the rosery that I will show you. Also, give me a study of -trees, and another of rocks and plants in the rock garden.” - -“I will begin at once.” - -He looked beyond her towards the blue hills. - -“As to the terms between us, will you let me write you a letter -embodying them?” - -“Yes.” - -“You can have an agreement if you like.” - -She answered at once. - -“No. I think, somehow, I would rather not. And please don’t propose -anything till you have seen more of what I can do.” - -Canterton led the way towards the rosery to show her the roses he wanted -her to paint, and in passing through one of the tunnels in the yew hedge -they were dashed into by a child who came flying like a blown leaf. It -was Eve who received the rush of the impetuous figure. Her hands held -Lynette to save her from falling. - -“Hallo!” - -Lynette’s face lifted to hers with surprise and laughter, and a -questioning shyness. Eve kept her hold for the moment. They looked at -each other with an impulse towards friendliness. - -“Lynette, old lady!” - -“Daddy, Miss Vance has gone off——” - -“Pop? Miss Carfax, let me introduce my daughter. Miss Lynette -Canterton—Miss Carfax.” - -Eve slid her hands from Lynette’s body, but the child’s hands clung and -held hers. - -“I’m so sorry. I hope it didn’t hurt? I don’t think I’ve seen you -before.” - -“Well, we rushed at each other when we did meet.” - -“Is daddy showing you the garden?” - -“Yes.” - -“My name’s Lynette—not like linnet, you know, but Lyn-net.” - -“And my name’s Eve—just Eve.” - -“Who was made out of Adam’s rib. Poor Mr. Adam! I wonder whether he -missed it?” - -They all laughed. Lynette kept hold of one of Eve’s hands, and held out -her other one to Canterton. - -“Daddy, do come down to the Wilderness. I want to build a wagwim.” - -“Or wigwam?” - -“I like wagwim better. Do come.” - -“Miss Canterton, I am most seriously occupied.” - -She tossed her hair, and turned on Eve. - -“You’ll come too, Miss Eve? Now I’ve invited you, daddy will have to -come. Ask him.” - -Eve looked at Canterton, and there was something strange in the eyes of -both. - -“Mr. Canterton, I am requested to ask you——” - -“I surrender. I may as well tell you, Miss Carfax, that very few people -are invited into the Wilderness. It is fairyland.” - -“I appreciate it. Lynette, may I come and build a wagwim with you?” - -“Yes, do. What a nice voice you’ve got.” - -“Have I?” - -Eve blushed queerly, and was intimately conscious of Canterton’s eyes -looking at her with peculiar and half wondering intentness. - -“I’m going to have dinner there. Mother is out, and Miss Vance is going -to Guildford by train. And Sarah has given me two jam tarts, and some -cheese straws, and two bananas——” - -Canterton tweaked her hair. - -“That’s an idea. I’m on good terms with Sarah. We’ll have some lunch and -a bottle of red wine sent down to the Wilderness and picnic in a wagwim, -if the wagwim wams by lunch time.” - -“Come along—come along, Miss Eve! I’ll show you the way! I’m so glad -you like wagwims!” - -So these three went down to the Wilderness together, into the green -light of the larch wood, and into a world of laughter, mystery and joy. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - - WOMEN OF VIRTUE - - -The local committee of a society for the propagation of something or -other had taken possession of Canterton’s library, and Mrs. Brocklebank -was the dominant lady. The amount of business done at these meetings was -infinitesimal, for Mrs. Brocklebank and Gertrude Canterton were like -battleships that kept up a perpetual booming of big guns, hardly -troubling to notice the splutter of suggestions fired by the lesser -vessels. The only person on the committee who had any idea of business -was little Miss Whiffen, the curate’s sister. She was one of those women -who are all profile, a busy, short-sighted, argumentative creature who -did her best to prevent Mrs. Brocklebank and Gertrude Canterton from -claiming the high seas as their own. She fussed about like a torpedo -boat, launching her torpedoes, and scoring hits that should have blown -most battleships out of the water. But Mrs. Brocklebank was unsinkable, -and Gertrude Canterton was protected by the net of her infinite -self-satisfaction. Whatever Miss Whiffen said, they just kept on -booming. - -Sometimes they squabbled politely, while old Lady Marchendale, who was -deaf, sat and dozed in her chair. They were squabbling this afternoon -over a problem that, strange to say, had something to do with the matter -in hand. Miss Whiffen had contradicted Mrs. Brocklebank, and so they -proceeded to argue. - -“Every thinking person ought to realise that there are a million more -women than men in the country.” - -“I wasn’t questioning that.” - -“Therefore the female birth rate must be higher than the male.” - -Miss Whiffen retorted with figures. She was always attacking Mrs. -Brocklebank with statistics. - -“If you look up the records you will find that there are about a hundred -and five boys born to every hundred girls.” - -“That does not alter the situation.” - -“Oh, of course not.” - -“This scheme of helping marriageable young women to emigrate——” - -Mrs. Brocklebank paused, and turned the big gun on Miss Whiffen. - -“I said marriageable young women! Have you any objection to the term, -Miss Whiffen?” - -“Oh, not in the least! But does it follow that, because they marry when -they get to the Colonies——” - -“What follows?” - -“Why, children.” - -“Marriages are more fruitful in a young country.” - -“But are they? When my married sister was home from Australia last time, -she told me——” - -Gertrude Canterton joined in. - -“Yes, it’s just the prevailing selfishness, the decadence of home life.” - -“Men are so much more selfish than they used to be.” - -“I think the women are as bad. And, of course, the question of -population——” - -Old Lady Marchendale, who had dozed off in her arm-chair by the window, -woke up, caught a few fragmental words, and created a digression. - -“They ought to be made to have them—by law!” - -“But, my dear Lady Marchendale——” - -“I see her ladyship’s point.” - -“Every girl ought to have her own room.” - -“Of course, most certainly! But in the matter of emigration——” - -“Emigration? What has emigration to do with the Shop Girls’ Self Help -Society?” - -“My dear Lady Marchendale, we are discussing the scheme for sending -young women to the Colonies.” - -“Bless me, I must have been asleep. I remember. Look at that lad of -yours, Mrs. Canterton, out there in the garden. I’m sure he has cut his -hand.” - -Lady Marchendale might be rather deaf, but she had unusually sharp eyes, -and Gertrude Canterton, rising in her chair, saw one of the lads -employed in the home garden running across the lawn, and wrapping a -piece of sacking round his left hand and wrist. - -She hurried to the window. - -“What is the matter, Pennyweight?” - -“Cut m’ wrist, mum, swappin’ the hedge.” - -“How careless! I will come and see what wants doing.” - -There had been First Aid classes in the village. In fact, Gertrude -Canterton had started them. Miss Whiffen and several members of the -committee followed her into the garden and surrounded the lad -Pennyweight, who looked white and scared. - -“Take that dirty sacking away, Pennyweight! Don’t you know such things -are full of microbes?” - -“It’s bleedin’ so bad, mum.” - -“Let me see.” - -The lad obeyed her, uncovering his wrist gingerly, his face flinching. -The inner swathings of sacking were being soaked with blood from the -steady pumping of a half-severed artery. - -Miss Whiffen made a little sibilant sound. - -“Sssf, sssf—dear, dear!” - -“A nasty cut.” - -Pennyweight hesitated between restive fright and awe of all these -gentlewomen. - -“Hadn’t I better go t’ Mr. Lavender, mum? It does bleed.” - -“Nonsense, Pennyweight! Miss Ronan, would you mind going in and ringing -for the housekeeper? Tell her I want some clean linen, and some hot -water and boracic acid.” - -Miss Whiffen was interested but alarmed. - -“It’s a cut artery. We ought to compress the brachial artery.” - -“Isn’t it the femoral?” - -“No, that’s in the leg. You squeeze the arm just——” - -“Exactly. Along the inside seam of the sleeve.” - -“But he has no coat on.” - -This was a poser. Gertrude Canterton looked annoyed. - -“Where’s your coat, Pennyweight?” - -“Down by t’ hedge, mum.” - -“If he had his coat on we should know just where to compress the -artery.” - -No one noticed Canterton and Lynette till the man and the child were -within five yards of the group. - -“What’s the matter?” - -The lad faced round sharply, appeared to disentangle himself from the -women, and to turn instinctively to Canterton. - -“Cut m’ wrist, sir, with the swap ’ook.” - -“We must stop that bleeding.” - -He pulled out a big bandanna handkerchief, passed it round the lad’s -arm, knotted it, and took a folding foot-rule from his pocket. - -“Hold that just there, Bob.” - -He made another knot over the rule on the inside of the arm, and then -twisted the extemporised tourniquet till the lad winced. - -“Hurt?” - -“No, sir.” - -“That’s stopped it. Gertrude, send one of the maids down to the office -and tell Griggs to ride down on his bicycle for Kearton. Feel funny, -Bob?” - -“Just a bit, sir.” - -“Lie down flat in the shade there. I’ll get you a glass of grog.” - -Lynette, solemn and sympathetic, had stood watching her father, -disassociating herself from her mother and Miss Whiffen, and the members -of the committee. - -“Wasn’t it a good thing I found daddy, Bob?” - -“It was, miss.” - -“The old ladies might have let you bleed to death, mightn’t they?” - -Bob looked sheepish, and Gertrude Canterton called Lynette away. - -“Go to the nursery, Lynette. It is tea time.” - -Lynette chose to enter the house by the library window, and, finding old -Lady Marchendale sitting there in the arm-chair, put up her face to be -kissed. She liked Lady Marchendale because she had pretty white hair, -and eyes that twinkled. - -“Did you see Bob’s bloody hand?” - -“What, my dear?” - -“Did you see Bob’s bloody hand?” - -“I can’t quite hear, dear.” - -Lynette put her mouth close to Lady Marchendale’s ear, and spoke with -emphasis. - -“Did—you—see—Bob’s—bloody—hand?” - -“Lynette, you must not use such words!” - -Gertrude Canterton stood at the open window, and Lady Marchendale was -laughing. - -“What words, mother?” - -“Such words as ‘bloody.’” - -“But it was bloody, mother.” - -“Bless the child, how fresh! Come and give me another kiss, dear.” - -Lynette gave it with enthusiasm. - -“I do like your white hair.” - -“It is not so pretty as yours, my dear. Now, run along. We are very -busy.” - -She watched Lynette go, nodding her head at her and smiling. - -“I am so sorry, Lady Marchendale. The child is such a little savage.” - -“I think she’s a pet. You don’t want to make a little prig of her, do -you?” - -“She’s so undisciplined.” - -“Oh, fudge! What you call being ‘savage,’ is being healthy and natural. -You don’t want to make the child a woman before she’s been a child.” - -The gong rang for tea. - -Eve was painting in the rosery when Mrs. Brocklebank persuaded the -members of the committee that she—and therefore they—wanted to see Mr. -Canterton’s roses. It was a purely perfunctory pilgrimage, so far as -Gertrude Canterton was concerned, and her voice struck a note of passive -disapproval. - -“I think there is much too much time and money wasted upon flowers.” - -“Oh, Mrs. Canterton! But isn’t this just sweet!” - -“I don’t know very much about roses, but I believe my husband’s are -supposed to be wonderful.” - -She sighted Eve, stared, and diverged towards her down a side path, -smiling with thin graciousness. - -“Miss Carfax?” - -Eve did not offer to explain her presence. She supposed that Gertrude -Canterton knew all about her husband’s book, and the illustrations that -were needed. - -“You are making a study of flowers?” - -“Yes.” - -“That’s right. I hope you will find plenty of material here.” - -“Mr. Canterton was kind enough to let me come in and see what I could -do.” - -“Exactly. May I see?” - -She minced round behind Eve, and looked over the girl’s shoulder at the -sketch she had on her lap. - -“That’s quite nice—quite nice! But what a lot of colour you have put -into it.” - -“There is rather a lot of colour in the garden itself.” - -“Yes, but I’m afraid I can’t see what you have put on paper——” - -Miss Whiffen was clamouring to be told the name of a certain rose. - -“Mrs. Canterton—Mrs. Canterton!” - -“Yes, dear?” - -“Do tell me the name of this rose!” - -“I’ll come and look. I can’t burden my memory with the names of flowers. -Perhaps it is labelled. Everything ought to be labelled. It is such a -saving of time.” - -Eve smiled, and turning to glance at the rose bed she was painting, -discovered a big woman in black hanging a large white face over the one -particular rose in the garden. Mrs. Brocklebank had discovered -Guinevere, and a cherished flower that was just opening to the sunlight. - -Mrs. Brocklebank always carried a black vanity bag, though it did not -contain such things as mirror, _papier poudre_, violet powder, hairpins, -and scent. A notebook, two or three neat twists of string, a pair of -scissors, a mother-of-pearl card-case, pince-nez, and a little bottle of -corn solvent that she had just bought in Basingford—these were the -occupants. Eve saw her open the bag, take out the scissors, and bend -over Guinevere. - -Eve dared to intervene. - -“Excuse me, but that rose must not be touched.” - -Perhaps she put her protest crudely, but Mrs. Brocklebank showed -hauteur. - -“Indeed!” - -“I believe Mr. Canterton wants that flower.” - -“What is it, Philippa?” - -Mrs. Canterton had returned, and came wriggling and edging behind Eve. - -“There is rather a nice bud here, and I was going to steal it, but this -young lady——” - -“Miss Carfax!” - -Eve felt her face flushing. - -“I believe Mr. Canterton wants that flower.” - -“Nonsense. Why, there are hundreds here. Take it, my dear, by all means, -take it.” - -“I don’t want to interfere with——” - -“I insist. James is absolutely foolish about his flowers. He won’t let -me send a maid down with a basket. And we had such a quarrel once about -the orchid house.” - -Eve turned and went back to her stool. Mrs. Brocklebank’s eyes followed -her with solemn disapproval. - -“That’s a rather forward young person.” - -“Do take the flower, Philippa.” - -“I will.” - -And the rose was tucked into Mrs. Brocklebank’s belt. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - - CANTERTON PURSUES MRS. BROCKLEBANK - - -Ten minutes later Eve saw Canterton enter the rosery. - -He was walking slowly, his hands in his pockets, pausing from time to -time to examine some particular rose bush for any signs of blight or -rust. Eve’s place was in the very centre of this little secret world of -colour and perfume, and the grey paths led away from her on every side -like the ground plan of a maze. There was some resemblance, too, to a -silver web with strands spread and hung with iridescent dewdrops -flashing like gems. In the midst of it all was the woman, watching, -waiting, a mystery even to herself, while the man approached half -circuitously, taking this path, and now that, drawing nearer and nearer -to that central, feminine thing throned in the thick of June. - -Canterton walked along the last path as though he had only just realised -Eve’s presence. She kept on with her work, looking down under lowered -lashes at the sketching-block upon her knees. - -“Still working?” - -“Yes.” - -“Have you had any tea?” - -“No.” - -“I’ll have some sent out to you.” - -“Oh, please don’t bother.” - -“You may as well make a habit of it when you are working here.” - -She lifted eyes that smiled. - -“I am so very human, that sweet cakes and a cup of fine China tea——” - -“Remain human. I have a very special blend. You shall have it sent out -daily, and I will issue instructions as to the cakes. Hallo!” - -He had discovered the spoiling of Guinevere. - -“Someone has taken that rose.” - -His profile was turned to her, and she studied it with sympathetic -curiosity. - -“Mrs. Canterton and some friends have been here.” - -“Have they?” - -“And a stout lady in black discovered Guinevere, and produced a pair of -scissors. I put in a word for the rose.” - -He faced her, looking down with eyes that claimed her as a partisan. - -“Thank you.” - -“I think the lady’s name is Mrs. Brocklebank.” - -He was half angry, half amused. - -“I might have suspected it. I suppose someone over-ruled your protest?” - -“Yes.” - -She went on with her work, brushing in a soft background of grey stones -and green foliage. - -“Was Mrs. Canterton here?” - -“Yes.” - -Her eyes remained fixed upon the rose in front of her, and the poise of -her head and the aloofness of her eyes answered his question before he -asked it. - -“I want that rose most particularly. It has to go to one of the greatest -rose experts in the country.” - -“Yes.” - -“Which way did they go?” - -“Back to the house, I think.” - -“I’ll go and have your tea sent out. And I want to catch Mrs. -Brocklebank.” - -Canterton started in pursuit of the lady, found that she had only just -left the house, and that he would catch her in the drive. He intended to -be quite frank with her, knowing her to be the most inveterate snatcher -up of trifles, one of those over-enthusiastic people who will sneak a -cutting from some rare plant and take it home wrapped up in a -handkerchief. Lavender had told him one or two tales about Mrs. -Brocklebank, and how he had once surprised her in the rock garden busy -with a trowel that she had brought in an innocent looking work-bag. - -Canterton overtook her just before she reached the lodge gates, and -found Guinevere being carried off as a victim in Mrs. Brocklebank’s -belt. - -“I am afraid you have taken a rose that should not have been touched.” - -“Oh, Mr. Canterton, I’m sure I haven’t!” - -He looked whimsically at the rose perched on the top of a very ample -curve. - -“Well, there it is! My wife ought to have warned you——” - -“She pressed me to take it. My dear Mr. Canterton, how was I to know?” - -“Of course not.” - -He was amused by her emphatic innocence, especially when, by dragging in -Eve Carfax’s name, he could have suggested to her that he knew she was -lying. - -“You see, my wife knows nothing about flowers—what is valuable, and -what isn’t.” - -Mrs. Brocklebank began to boom. - -“My dear Mr. Canterton, how can you expect it? I think it is very -unreasonable of you. In fact, you ought to mark valuable flowers, so -that other people should know.” - -He smiled at her quite charmingly. - -“I suppose I ought. I suppose I am really the guilty party. Only, you -see, my garden is really a shop, a big general store. And in a shop it -is not supposed to be necessary to put notices on certain articles, -‘This article is not to be appropriated.’” - -“Mr. Canterton!” - -She took the rose out of her belt, and in doing so purposely broke the -stalk off close to the calyx. - -“I think you are a very horrid man. Fancy suggesting——” - -“I am a humorist, you know.” - -“I am afraid I have broken the stalk.” - -“It doesn’t matter. I can have it wired.” - -He went and opened the lodge gates for her, and stood, hat in hand, as -she passed out. He was smiling, but it was an uncomfortable sort of -smile that sent Mrs. Brocklebank away wondering whether he was really -quite a pleasant person or an ironical beast. - -Canterton took the rose to Lavender, who was working through some of the -stock lists in the office. - -“Nearly lost, but not quite, Lavender.” - -The foreman looked cynical, but said nothing. - -“Wire it up, and have it packed and sent off to Mr. Woolridge to-night. -And, by the way, I have told Mrs. Brocklebank that if she wants any -flowers in the future, she must apply to you.” - -“I shan’t forget that little trowel of hers, sir, and our Alpines.” - -“Put up a notice, ‘Trowels not admitted.’ I am writing to Mr. Woolridge. -Oh, and there are those American people coming to-morrow, who want to be -shown roses, and flowering shrubs. Will you take them round? I fancy I -shall be busy.” - -Canterton returned to the rosery, and, picking up a stray chair in one -of the main paths, joined Eve Carfax, who had a little green Japanese -tea-tray on her lap. She was pouring out tea from a tiny brown teapot, -her wrist making a white arch, her lashes sweeping her cheek. - -“They have brought your tea all right?” - -“Yes.” - -“What about cakes?” - -She bent down and picked up a plate from the path. - -“Someone must fancy me a hungry schoolgirl.” - -“It looks rather like it. How is the painting going?” - -“I am rather pleased with it.” - -“Good. On show soon?” - -“I have only to put in a few touches.” - -He swung his chair round, and sat down as though it were the most -natural thing in the world for him to come and talk to her. Her curious -resemblance to Lynette may have tricked him into a mood that was partly -that of the playmate, partly that of the father. Lynette, the child, had -set him an impetuous example. “Miss Eve feels the fairies in the wood, -daddy. She feels them there, just like me.” That was it. Eve spoke and -understood the same language as he and the child. - -“I overtook Mrs. Brocklebank.” - -“And rescued Guinevere?” - -“Yes, and the good dragon pretended to be very innocent. I did not drag -your name in, though I was reproved for not labelling things properly, -and so inviting innocent old ladies to purloin flowers.” - -“But you got the rose back?” - -“Yes, and she managed to break the stalk off short in pulling it out of -her belt. I wonder if you can tell me why the average woman is built on -such mean lines?” - -She gave him a sudden questioning glance which said, “Do you realise -that you are going beneath the surface—that the real you in you is -calling to the real me in me?” - -He was looking at her intently, and there was something in his eyes that -stirred a tremor of compassion in her. - -“What I mean is, that the average woman seems a cad when she is compared -to the average man. I mean, the women of the upper middle classes. I -suppose it is because they don’t know what work is, and because they -have always led selfish and protected lives. They haven’t the bigness of -men—the love of fair-play.” - -Her eyes brightened to his. - -“I know what you mean. If I described a girls’ school to you——” - -“I should have the feminine world in miniature.” - -“Yes. The snobbery, the cult of convention, the little sneaking -jealousies, all the middle class nastiness. I hated school.” - -He was silent for some moments, his eyes looking into the distance. Then -he began to speak in his quiet and deliberate way, like a man gazing at -some landscape and trying to describe all that he saw. - -“Life, in a neighbourhood like this, seems so shallow—so full of -conventional fussiness. These women know nothing, and yet they must run -about, like so many fashionable French clowns, doing a great deal, and -nothing. I can’t get the hang of it. I suppose I am always hanging my -head over something that has been born, or is growing. One gets right up -against the wonder and mystery of life, the marvellous complex of growth -and colour. It makes one humble, deliberate, rather like a big child. -Perhaps I lose my sense of social proportion, but I can’t fit myself -into these feminine back yards. And some women never forgive one for -getting into the wrong back yard.” - -His eyes finished by smiling, half apologetically. - -“It seems to me that most women would rather have their men respectable -hypocrites than thinkers.” - -She put the tray aside, and brushed some crumbs from her skirt. - -“The older sort of woman, perhaps.” - -“You mean——” - -“Generations of women have never had a fair chance. They had to dance to -the man’s piping. And I think women are naturally conservative, sexually -mistrustful of change—of new ideas.” - -“They carry their sex into social questions?” - -“Or try to crush it. There is a sort of cry for equality—for the -interplay of personality with personality—without all that——” - -He bent forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. - -“Have we men been guilty of making so many of our women fussy, -conventional, pitiless fools? Have you ever run up against the crass -prejudice, the merciless, blind, and arrogant self-assurance of the -ordinary orthodox woman?” - -She answered slowly, “Yes.” - -He seemed to wait for her. - -“Well?” - -“There is nothing to say.” - -“Absolute finality! Oh, I know! Everything outside the little rigid -fence, ununderstandable, unmentionable! No vision, no real sympathy, no -real knowledge. What can one do? I often wonder whether the child will -grow up like that.” - -“Lynette?” - -He nodded. - -She looked at him with that peculiar brightening of the eyes and tender -tremulousness of the mouth. - -“Oh, no! You see, she’s—she’s sensitive, and not a little woman in -miniature. I mean, she won’t have the society shell hardened on her -before her soul has done growing.” - -His face warmed and brightened. - -“By George, how you put things! That’s the whole truth in a nutshell. -Keep growing. Keep the youngsters growing. Smash away the crust of -convention!” - -She began to gather up her belongings, and Canterton watched her -cleaning her brushes and putting them back into their case. A subtle -veil of shyness had fallen upon her. She had realised suddenly that he -was no longer an impersonal figure sitting there and dispassionately -discussing certain superficial aspects of life, but a big man who was -lonely, a man who appealed to her with peculiar emphasis, and who talked -to her as to one who could understand. - -“I must be off home. I thought I should finish this to-day, but I will -ask you not to look at it till to-morrow.” - -“Just as you please.” - -She strapped her things together, rose, and turned a sudden and frank -face to his. - -“Good-bye. I think Lynette will be ever so safe.” - -“I shall do my best to keep her away from the multitude of women.” - -Eve walked back through the pine woods to Orchards Corner, thinking of -Canterton and Lynette, and of the woman who was too busy to know -anything about flowers. How Gertrude Canterton had delivered an epigram -upon herself by uttering those few words. She was just a restless -shuttle in the social loom, flying to and fro, weaving conventional and -unbeautiful patterns. And she was married to a man whose very life was -part of the green sap of the earth, whose humility watched and wondered -at the mystery of growth, whose heart was, in some ways, the heart of a -child. - -What a sacramental blunder! - -She was a little troubled, yet conscious of a tremor of exultation. Was -it nothing to her that she was able to talk to such a man as this. He -was big, massive, yet full of an exquisite tenderness. She had realised -that when she had seen him with the child. He had talked, and half -betrayed himself, yet she, the woman to whom he had talked, could -forgive him that. He was not a man who betrayed things easily. His mouth -and eyes were not those of a lax and self-conscious egoist. - -Eve found her mother sitting in the garden, knitting, and Eve’s -conscience smote her a little. Orchards Corner did not pulsate with -excitements, and youth, with all its ardour, had left age to its -knitting needles and wool. - -“Have you been lonely, mother?” - -“Lonely, my dear? Why, I really never thought about it.” - -Eve was always discovering herself wasting her sentiments upon this -placid old lady. Mrs. Carfax did not react as the daughter reacted. She -was vegetative and quite content to sit and contemplate nothing in -particular, like a cat staring at the fire. - -“Bring a chair and a book out, dear. These June evenings are so -pleasant.” - -Eve followed her mother’s suggestion, knowing very well that she would -not be permitted to read. Mrs. Carfax did not understand being silent, -her conversation resembling a slowly dripping tap that lets a drop fall -every few seconds. She had never troubled to read any book that did not -permit her to lose her place and to pick it up again without missing -anything of importance. She kept a continuous sparrowish twittering, -clicking her knitting needles and sitting stiffly in her chair. - -“Have you had a nice day, dear?” - -“Quite nice.” - -“Did you see Mr. Canterton?” - -“Oh, yes, I saw him!” - -“He must be a very interesting man.” - -“Yes.” - -“I should think his wife is such a help to him.” - -“Oh?” - -“Looking after all the social duties, and improving his position. I -don’t suppose he would have held quite the same position in the -neighbourhood without her. She was a Miss Jerningham, wasn’t she? And, -of course, that must have made a great deal of difference.” - -“I suppose it did, mother.” - -“Of course it did, my dear. Marriage makes or mars. Mrs. Canterton must -be very popular—so energetic and public spirited, and, you see, one has -to remember that Mr. Canterton is in trade. That has not kept them from -being county people, and, of course, Mrs. Canterton is responsible for -the social position. He must be very proud of his wife.” - -“Possibly. I haven’t asked him, mother. I will, if you like.” - -Mrs. Carfax was deaf and blind to humour. - -“My dear Eve, I sometimes think you are a little stupid.” - -“Am I?” - -“You don’t seem to grasp things.” - -“Perhaps I don’t.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - - LYNETTE TAKES TO PAINTING - - -Eve Carfax was painting an easel picture of the walled garden when -Lynette arrived with a camp-stool, a drawing book, a box of paints, and -a little green watering-pot full of water. - -“I want to make pictures. You’ll teach me, won’t you, Miss Eve?” - -“I’ll try to.” - -“I’ve got a lovely box of paints. What a nice music stand you’ve got.” - -“Some people call it an easel.” - -“I ought to have one, oughtn’t I? I’ll ask Mr. Beeby to make one. Mr. -Beeby’s the carpenter. He’s such a funny man, with a round-the-corner -eye.” - -Eve took the apprenticeship as seriously as it was offered, and started -Lynette on a group of blue delphiniums, white lilies, and scarlet -poppies. Lynette began with fine audacity, and red, white and blue -splodges sprang up all over the sheet. But they refused to take on any -suggestion of detail, and the more Lynette strove with them, the -smudgier they became. - -“Oh, Miss Eve!” - -“How are you getting on?” - -“I’m not getting on.” - -“The colours seem to have got on your fingers.” - -“They’re all sticky. I oughtn’t to lick them, ought I?” - -“No. Try a rag.” - -“I’ll go and wash in the gold-fish basin. The gold-fish won’t mind.” - -She ran off into the Japanese garden, reappeared, borrowed one of Eve’s -clean rags, and stood watching the expert’s brush laying on colours. - -“You do do it beautifully.” - -“Well, you see, I have done it for years.” - -Lynette meditated. - -“I shall be awful old, then, before I can paint daddy a picture. Can you -draw fairies and animals?” - -“Supposing I try?” - -“Yes, do. Draw some in my book.” - -The easel picture was covered up and abandoned for the time being. The -two stools were placed side by side, and the two heads, the auburn and -the black, came very close together. - -“I’ll draw Mr. Puck.” - -“Yes, Mr. Puck.” - -“Mr. Puck is all round—round head, round eyes, round mouth.” - -“What a funny little round tummy you have given him!” - -“You see, he’s rather greedy. Now we’ll draw Mr. Bruin.” - -“Daddy made such funny rhymes about Mr. Bruin. Give him a top-hat. Isn’t -that sweet? But what’s he doing—sucking his fingers?” - -“He has been stealing honey, and he’s licking his paws.” - -“Now—now draw something out of the Bible.” - -“The Bible?” - -“Yes. Draw God making Eve.” - -“That would take rather a long time.” - -“Well, draw the Serpent Devil, and God in the garden.” - -“I’ll draw the serpent.” - -“What a lovely Snake Devil! Now, if I’d been God, I’d have got a big -stick and hit the Snake Devil on the head. Wouldn’t it have saved lots -and lots of trouble?” - -“It would.” - -“Then why didn’t God do it?” - -Eve was rescued by Canterton from justifying such theological -incongruities. He found them with their heads together, auburn and black -bent over Lynette’s drawing-book. He stood for a moment or two watching -them, and listening to their intimate prattle. This girl who loved the -colour and the mystery of life as he loved them could be as a child with -Lynette. - -“You seem very busy.” - -Lynette jumped up. - -“Daddy, come and look! Isn’t Miss Eve clever?” - -For some reason Eve blushed, and did not turn to look at Canterton. - -“Here’s Mr. Puck, and old Bruin, and Titania, and Orson, and the Devil -Serpent. Miss Eve is just splendid at devils.” - -“Is she? That’s rather a reflection.” - -He stood behind Eve and looked down over her shoulder. - -“You have given the serpent a woman’s head.” - -She turned her chin but not her eyes. - -“Yes.” - -“Symbolism?” - -“I may have been thinking of something you said the other day.” - -A full-throated and good-humoured voice was heard calling, -“Lynette—Lynette!” - -“Oh, there’s Miss Vance! It’s the music lesson. I’ll show her the -Serpent Devil. I’ll come back, Miss Eve, presently.” - -“Yes, come back, little Beech Leaf.” - -They were silent for a few moments after she had gone. - -“I like that name—‘Little Beech Leaf.’ Just the colour—in autumn, and -racing about in the wind.” - -He came and stood in front of Eve. - -“You seem to be getting on famously, you two.” - -Her eyes lifted to his. - -“She’s delightful! No self-consciousness, no showing off, and such -vitality. And that hair and those elf’s eyes of hers thrill one.” - -“And she likes you too, not a little.” - -Eve coloured. - -“Well, if she does, it’s like a bit of real life flying in through the -narrow window of little worries, and calling one out to play.” - -“Little worries?” - -“I don’t want to talk about them—the importunities of the larder, and -the holes in the house-linen, and the weekly bills. I am always trying -to teach myself to laugh. And it is very good for one to be among -flowers.” - -He glanced at the easel. - -“You have covered up the picture. May I see it?” - -“It is not quite finished. In twenty minutes——” - -“May I come back in twenty minutes?” - -“Oh, yes!” - -“I like my own flowers to be just at their best when friends are to see -them.” - -“Yes, you understand.” - -Canterton left her and spent half an hour walking the winding paths of -the Japanese garden, crossing miniature waterways, and gazing into -little pools. There were dwarf trees, dwarf hedges, and a little wooden -temple half smothered with roses in which sat a solemn, black marble -Buddha. This Buddha had caused a mystery and a scandal in the -neighbourhood, for it had been whispered that Canterton was a Buddhist, -and that he had been found on his knees in this little wooden temple. In -the pools, crimson, white, and yellow lilies basked. The rocks were -splashed with colour. Clumps of Japanese iris spread out their flat tops -of purple and white and rose. Fish swam in the pools with a vague -glimmer of silver and gold. - -At the end of half an hour Canterton returned to the walled garden, and -found Eve sitting before the picture, her hands lying in her lap. The -poise of her head reminded him of “Beata Beatrix,” but her face had far -more colour, more passionate aliveness, and there was the sex mystery -upon her mouth and in the blackness of her hair. - -“Ready?” - -She turned to him and smiled. - -“Yes, you may look.” - -He stood gazing at her work in silence, yet with a profound delight -welling up into his eyes. She watched his face, sensitively, hardly -conscious of the fact that she wanted to please him more than anyone -else in the world. - -“Exquisite! By George, you have eyes!” - -She laughed softly in a happy, exultant throat. - -“I surprised myself. I think it must be Lynette’s magic, and the fairies -in the Wilderness.” - -“If you are going to paint like that, you ought to do big things.” - -“Oh, I don’t know! There are not many people who really care.” - -“That’s true.” - -He gazed again at the picture, and then his eyes suddenly sought hers. - -“Yes, you can see things—you can feel the colour.” - -“Sometimes it is so vivid that it almost hurts.” - -They continued to look into each other’s eyes, questioningly, -wonderingly, with something akin to self-realisation. It was as though -they had discovered each other, and were re-discovering each other every -time they met and talked. - -Lynette reappeared where the long walk ended in a little courtyard paved -with red bricks, and surrounded by square-cut box hedges. She had -finished her half-hour’s music lesson with Miss Vance, and was out again -like a bird on the wing. Canterton had insisted on limiting her lessons -to three hours a day, though his ideas on a child’s upbringing had -clashed with those of his wife. There had been a vast deal of talking on -Gertrude’s part, and a few laconic answers on the part of her husband. -Now and again, when the issue was serious, Canterton quietly persisted -in having his own way. He never interfered with her multifarious -schemes. Gertrude could fuss here, there, and everywhere, provided she -did not tamper with Lynette’s childhood, or thrust her activities into -the serious life of the great gardens of Fernhill. - -“Let’s go and have tea in the Wilderness.” - -“Why not?” - -“You’ll come, Miss Eve?” - -She snuggled up to Eve, and an arm went round her. - -“I’m afraid I can’t, dear, to-day.” - -“Why can’t you?” - -“I must go home and take care of my mother.” - -Lynette seemed to regard this as a very quaint excuse. - -“How funny! Fancy anyone wanting to take care of my mother. Why, she’s -always wanting to take care of everybody else, ’cept me! I wonder if -they like it? I shouldn’t.” - -“Your mother is very kind to everybody, dear.” - -“Is she? Then why don’t Sarah, and Ann, and Edith, and Johnson, like -her? I know they don’t, for I’ve heard them talking. They all love you, -daddy.” - -Canterton looked at her gravely. - -“You mustn’t listen to what everybody says. And never tell tales of -everybody. Come along, old lady, we’ll go down to the Wilderness.” - -“I wish you’d come, Miss Eve.” - -“I wish I could, but I mustn’t to-day.” - -“I do like you so much, really I do.” - -Eve drew Lynette close and kissed her with impulsive tenderness. And -Canterton, who saw the love in the kiss, felt that he was standing at -the gateway of mystery. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - - LIFE AT FERNHILL - - -The Fernhill breakfast table was very characteristic of the Canterton -_ménage_. - -Gertrude Canterton came down ten minutes after the gong had sounded, -bustling into the room with every sign of starting the day in a rush. -Her hair looked messy, with untidy strands at the back of her neck. She -wore any old dress that happened to come to hand, and as often as not -she had a piece of tape hanging out, or a hook and eye unfastened. -Breakfast time was not her hour. She looked yellow, and thin, and -voracious, and her hands began fidgeting at once with the pile of -letters and circulars beside her plate. - -Canterton had half finished breakfast. He and his wife were as detached -from each other at table as they were in all their other relationships. -Gertrude was quite incapable of pouring out his tea, and never -remembered whether the sugar was in or not. She always plunged straight -into her chaotic correspondence, slitting the envelopes and wrappers -with a table knife, and littering the whole of her end of the table with -paper. She complained of the number of letters she received, but her -restless egoism took offence if she was not pestered each morning. - -Canterton had something to tell her, something that a curious sense of -the fitness of things made him feel that she ought to know. It did not -concern her in the least, but he always classed Gertrude and formalism -together. - -“I have arranged with Miss Carfax to paint the illustrations for my -book.” - -Gertrude was reading a hospital report, her bacon half cold upon her -plate. - -“One moment, James.” - -He smiled tolerantly, and passed her his cup by way of protest. - -“Anyhow, I should like some more tea.” - -“Tea?” - -She took the cup, and proceeded to attempt two things at once. - -“You might empty the dregs out.” - -She humoured his fussiness. - -“I have something supremely interesting here.” - -“Meanwhile, the teapot is taking liberties. Inside the cup, my dear -Gertrude!” - -He had often seen her try to read a letter and fill a cup at the same -moment. Sometimes she emptied the contents of the milk jug into the -teapot, mistaking it for the hot water. - -“Dear, dear!” - -“It is rather difficult to concentrate on two things at once.” - -She passed him the cup standing in a sloppy saucer. - -“I take sugar!” - -“Do help yourself, James. I never can remember.” - -Gertrude finished glancing through the hospital report, and picked up a -second letter. - -“I wanted to tell you that I have engaged Miss Carfax to paint the -pictures for my book.” - -“What book, James?” - -“The book on English gardens.” - -“Oh, yes.” - -He saw her preparing to get lost in a long letter. - -“Miss Carfax has quite extraordinary ability. I think I may find her -useful in other ways. Each year we have more people coming to us, -wanting us to plan their gardens. She could take some of that work and -save me time.” - -“That will be very nice for you, James.” - -“I need a second brain here, a brain that has an instinct for colour and -effect.” - -“Yes, I think you do.” - -He sat and gazed at her with grave and half cynical amusement. Such a -piece of news might have seemed of some importance to the average -married woman, touching as it did, the edge of her own empire, and -Canterton, as he watched her wrinkling up her forehead over those sheets -of paper, realised how utterly unessential he had become to this woman -whom he had married. He was not visible on her horizon. She included him -among the familiar fixtures of Fernhill, and was not sufficiently -interested even to suspect that any other woman might come into his -life. - -From that time Eve Carfax came daily to Fernhill, and made pictures of -roses and flowering shrubs, rock walls and lily pools, formal borders -and wild corners where art had abetted Nature. Canterton had given her a -list of the subjects he needed, a kind of floral calendar for her -guidance. And from painting the mere portraits of plants and flowers she -was lured on towards a desire to peer into the intricate inner life of -all this world of growth and colour. Canterton lent her books. She began -to read hard in the evenings, and to spend additional hours in the -Fernhill nurseries, wandering about with a catalogue, learning the names -and habits of plants and trees. She was absorbed into the life of the -place. The spirit of thoroughness that dominated everything appealed to -her very forcibly. She, too, wanted to be thorough, to know the -life-stories of the flowers she painted, to be able to say, “Such and -such flowers will give such and such combinations of colours at a -certain particular time.” The great gardens were full of -individualities, moods, whims, aspirations. She began to understand -Canterton’s immense sympathy with everything that grew, for sympathy was -essential in such a world as this. Plants had to be watched, studied, -encouraged, humoured, protected, understood. And the more she learnt, -the more fascinated she became, understanding how a man or a woman might -love all these growing things as one loves children. - -She was very happy. And though absorbed into the life of the place, she -kept enough individuality to be able to stand apart and store personal -impressions. Life moved before her as she sat in some corner painting. -She began to know something of Lavender, something of the men, something -of the skill and foresight needed in the production and marketing of -such vital merchandise. - -One of the first things that Eve discovered was the extent of -Canterton’s popularity. He was a big man with big views. He treated his -men generously, but never overlooked either impertinence or slackness. -“Mr. Canterton don’t stand no nonsense,” was a saying that rallied the -men who uttered it. They were proud of him, proud of the great -nurseries, proud of his work. The Fernhill men had their cricket field, -their club house, their own gardens. Canterton financed these concerns, -but left the management to the men’s committee. He never interfered with -them outside their working hours, never preached, never condescended. -The respect they bore him was phenomenal. He was a big figure in all -their lives—a figure that counted. - -As for Gertrude Canterton, they detested her wholeheartedly. Her -unpopularity was easily explained, for her whole idea of philanthropy -was of an attitude of restless intrusion into the private lives of the -people. She visited, harangued, scolded, and was mortally disliked for -her multifarious interferences. The mothers were lectured on the feeding -of infants, and the cooking of food. She entered cottages as though she -were some sort of State inspector, and behaved as though she always -remembered the fact that the cottages belonged to her husband. - -The men called her “Mother Fussabout,” and by the women she was referred -to as “She.” They had agreed to recognise the fact that Gertrude -Canterton had a very busy bee in her bonnet, and, with all the mordant -shrewdness of their class, suffered her importunities and never gave a -second thought to any of her suggestions. - -Visitors came almost daily to the Fernhill nurseries, and were taken -round by Lavender, the foreman, or by Canterton himself. Sometimes they -passed Eve while she was painting, and she could tell by the expression -of Canterton’s eyes whether he was dealing with rich dilettanti or with -people who knew. Humour was to be got out of some of these tours of -inspection, and Canterton would come back smiling over the -“buy-the-whole-place” attitude of some rich and indiscriminate fool. - -“I have just had a gentleman who thought the Japanese garden was for -sale.” - -“Oh!” - -“A Canadian who has made a fortune in land and wood-pulp and has bought -a place over here. When I showed him the Japanese garden, he said, ‘I’ll -take this in the lump, stones, and fish, and trees, and the -summer-house, and the little joss house. See?’” - -“Was he very disappointed when you told him?” - -“Oh, no. He asked me to name a price for fixing him up with an identical -garden, including a god. ‘Seems sort of original to have a god in your -garden.’ I said we were too busy for the moment, and that gods are -expensive, and are not to be caught every day of the week.” - -They laughed, looking into each other’s eyes. - -“What queer things humans are!” - -“A madman turned up here once whose mania was water lilies. He had an -idea he was a lotus eater, and he stripped and got into the big lily -tank and made a terrible mess of the flowers. It took us an hour to -catch him and get him out, and we had him on our hands for a week, till -his people tracked him down and took him home. He seemed quite sane on -most things, and was a fine botanist, but he had this one mad idea.” - -“Perhaps it was some enthusiasm gone wrong. One can sympathise with some -kinds of madmen.” - -“When one looks at things dispassionately one might be tempted to swear -that half our civilisation is absolutely mad.” - -He stood beside her for a while and watched her painting. - -“You are getting quite a lot of technical knowledge.” - -“I want to be thorough. And Fernhill has aroused an extraordinary -curiosity in me. I want to know the why and the wherefore.” - -He found that it gave him peculiar satisfaction to watch her fingers -moving the brush. She was doing her own work and his at the same moment, -and the suggestion of comradeship delighted him. - -“It wouldn’t do you any harm to go through a course of practical -gardening. It all helps. Gives one the real grip on a subject.” - -“I should like it.” - -“I could arrange it for you with Lavender. It has struck me, too, that -if you care to keep to this sort of work——” - -She looked up at him with eyes that asked, “Why not?” - -“You may want to do bigger things.” - -“But if the present work fills one’s life?” - -“I could find you plenty of chances for self-expression. Every year I -have more people coming to me wanting plans for gardens, wild gardens, -rose gardens, formal gardens. I could start a new profession in design -alone. I am pretty sure you could paint people fine, prophetic pictures, -and then turn your pictures into the reality.” - -“Could I?” - -She flushed, and he noticed it, and the soft red tinge that spread to -her throat. - -“Of course you could, with your colour sense and your vision. You only -want the technical knowledge.” - -“I am trying to get that.” - -“Do you know, it would interest me immensely, as an artist, to see what -you would create.” - -“You seem to believe——” - -“I believe you would have very fine visions which it would be delightful -for me to plant into life.” - -She turned and looked at him with something in her eyes that he had -never seen before. - -“I believe I could do it, if you believe I can do it.” - -He had a sudden desire to stretch out his hand and to touch her hair, -even as he touched Lynette’s hair, with a certain playful tenderness. - -Meanwhile Eve’s friendship with Lynette became a thing of unforeseen -responsibilities. Lynette would come running out into the gardens -directly her lessons were over, search for Eve, and seat herself at her -feet with all the devotedness of childhood that sets up idols. Sometimes -Lynette brought a story-book or her paint-box, but these were mere -superfluities. It was the companionship that mattered. - -It appeared that Lynette was getting behind Miss Vance and her Scripture -lessons, and she began to ask Eve a child’s questions—questions that -she found it impossible to answer. Miss Vance, who was a solid and -orthodox young woman, had no difficulty at all in providing Lynette with -a proper explanation of everything. But Lynette had inherited her -father’s intense and sensitive curiosity, and she was beginning to walk -behind Miss Vance’s machine-made figures of finality and to discover -phenomena that Miss Vance’s dogmas did not explain. - -“Who made the Bible, Miss Eve?” - -“A number of wise and good men, dear.” - -“Miss Vance says God made it.” - -“Well, He made everything, so I suppose Miss Vance is right.” - -“Has Miss Vance ever seen God?” - -“I don’t think so.” - -“But she seems to know all about Him, just as though she’d met Him at a -party. Have you seen Him?” - -“No.” - -“Has anyone?” - -“No one whom I know.” - -“Then how do we know that God is God?” - -“Because He must be God. Because everything He has made is so -wonderful.” - -“But Miss Vance seems to know all about Him, and when I ask her how she -knows she gets stiff and funny, and says there are things that little -girls can’t understand. Isn’t God very fond of children, Miss Eve, -dear?” - -“Very.” - -“Doesn’t it seem funny, then, that He shouldn’t come and play with me as -daddy does?” - -“God’s ever so busy.” - -“Is He busy like mother?” - -“No; not quite like that.” - -All this was rather a breathless business, and Eve felt as though she -were up before the Inquisition, and likely to be found out. Lynette’s -eyes were always watching her face. - -“Oh, Miss Eve, where do all the little children come from?” - -“God sends them, dear.” - -“Bogey, our cat, had kittens this morning. I found them all snuggling up -in the cupboard under the back stairs. Isn’t it funny! Yesterday there -weren’t any kittens, and this morning there are five.” - -“That’s how lots of things happen, dear. Everything is wonderful. You -see a piece of bare ground, and two or three weeks afterwards it is full -of little green plants.” - -“Do kittens come like that?” - -“In a way.” - -“Did they grow out of the cupboard floor? They couldn’t have done, Miss -Eve.” - -“They grew out of little eggs, dear, like chickens out of their eggs.” - -“But I’ve never seen kittens’ eggs, have you?” - -“No, little Beech Leaf, I haven’t.” - -Eve felt troubled and perplexed, and she appealed to Canterton. - -“What is one to tell her? It’s so difficult. I wouldn’t hurt her for -worlds. I remember I had all the old solemn make-believes given me, and -when I found them out it hurt, rather badly.” - -He smiled with his grave eyes—eyes that saw so much. - -“Do you believe in anything?” - -“You mean——” - -“Do you think with the nineteenth-century materialists that life is a -mere piece of mechanism?” - -“Oh, no.” - -“Something or someone is responsible. We have just as much right to -postulate God as we postulate ether.” - -“Yes.” - -“Could you conscientiously swear that you don’t believe in some sort of -prime cause?” - -“Of course I couldn’t.” - -“Well, there you are. We are not so very illogical when we use the word -God.” - -She looked into the distance, thinking. - -“After all, life’s a marvellous fairy tale.” - -“Exactly.” - -“And sometimes we get glimmerings of the ‘how,’ if we do not know the -‘why.’” - -“Let a child go on believing in fairy tales—let us all keep our wonder -and our humility. All that should happen is that our wonder and our -humility should widen and deepen as we grow older, and fairy tales -become more fascinating. I must ask Miss Vance to put all that Old -Testament stuff of hers on the shelf. When you don’t know, tell the -child so. But tell her there is someone who does know.” - -Her eyes lifted to his. - -“Thank you, so much.” - -“We can only use words, even when we feel that we could get beyond -words. Music goes farther, and colour, and growth. I don’t think you -will ever hurt the child if you are the child with her.” - -“Yes, I understand.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER X - - - TEA IN THE WILDERNESS - - -Canterton needed pictures of the Italian gardens at Latimer Abbey, and -since he had received permission to show the Latimer gardens in his -book, it devolved upon Eve Carfax to make a pilgrimage to the place. -Latimer, a small country town, lay some seventy miles away, and -Canterton, who knew the place, told Eve to write to the George Hotel and -book a room there. The work might take her a week, or more, if the -weather proved cloudy. Canterton wanted the gardens painted in full -sunlight, with all the shadows sharp, and the colours at their -brightest. - -The day before Eve’s journey to Latimer was a “Wilderness day.” Lynette -had made Eve promise to have a camp tea with her in the dell among the -larches. - -“Daddy says you like sweet cakes.” - -“Daddy’s a tease.” - -“I asked Sarah, and she’s made a lot of lovely little cakes, some with -chocolate ice, and some with jam and cream inside.” - -“I shan’t come just for the cakes, dear.” - -“No!” - -“But because of you and your Wilderness.” - -“Yes, but you will like the cakes, won’t you? Sarah and me’s taken such -a lot of trouble.” - -“You dear fairy godmother! I want to kiss you, hard!” - -They started out together about four o’clock, Eve carrying the -tea-basket, and Lynette a red cushion and an old green rug. The heath -garden on the hill-side above the larch wood was one great wave of -purple, rose, and white, deep colours into which vision seemed to sink -with a sense of utter satisfaction. The bracken had grown three or four -feet high along the edge of the larch wood, so that Lynette’s glowing -head disappeared into a narrow green lane. It was very still and solemn -and mysterious in among the trees, with the scattered blue of the sky -showing through and the sunlight stealing in here and there and making -patterns upon the ground. - -They were busy boiling the spirit kettle when Canterton appeared at the -end of the path through the larch wood. - -“Queen Mab, Queen Mab, may I come down into your grotto?” - -Lynette waved to him solemnly with a hazel wand. - -“Come along down, Daddy Bruin.” - -He climbed down into the dell laughing. - -“That is a nice title to give a parent. I might eat you both up.” - -“I’m sure you’d find Miss Eve very nice to eat.” - -“Dear child!” - -“How goes the kettle?” - -“We are nearly ready. Here’s the rug to sit on, daddy. Miss Eve’s going -to have the red cushion.” - -“The cushion of state. What about the cakes?” - -“Sarah’s made such lovely ones.” - -Eve’s eyes met Canterton’s. - -“It was ungenerous of you to betray me.” - -“Not at all. It was sheer tact on my part.” - -Tea was a merry meal, with both Lynette and her father dilating on the -particular excellences of the different cakes, and insisting that she -would be pleasing Sarah by allowing herself to be greedy. In the -fullness of time Canterton lit a pipe, and Lynette, sitting next him on -the green rug with her arms about her knees, grew talkative and -problematical. - -“Isn’t it funny how God sends people children?” - -“Most strange.” - -“What did you say, daddy, when God sent you me?” - -“‘Here’s another horrible responsibility!’” - -“Daddy, you didn’t! But wasn’t it funny that I was sent to mother?” - -“Lynette, old lady——” - -“Now, why wasn’t I sent to Miss Eve?” - -Canterton reached out and lifted her into his lap. - -“Bruin tickles little girls who ask too many questions.” - -In the midst of her struggles and her laughter his eyes met Eve’s, and -found them steady and unabashed, yet full of a vivid self-consciousness. -They glimmered when they met his, sending a mesmeric thrill through him, -and for the moment he could not look away. It was as though the child -had flashed a mysterious light into the eyes of both, and uttered some -deep nature cry that had startled them in the midst of their -playfulness. Canterton’s eyes seemed to become bluer, and more intent, -and Eve’s mouth had a tremulous tenderness. - -Lynette was a young lady of dignity, and Canterton was reproved. - -“Look how you’ve rumpled my dress, daddy.” - -“I apologise. Supposing we go for a ramble, and call for our baggage on -the way back.” - -Both Eve and Canterton rose, and Lynette came between them, holding each -by the hand. They wandered through the Wilderness and down by the -pollard pool, where the swallows skimmed the still water. Lynette was -mute, sharing the half dreamy solemnity of her elders. The playfulness -was out of the day, and even the child felt serious. - -It was past six when they returned to the garden, and Lynette, whose -supper hour was due, hugged Eve hard as she said good-bye. - -“You will write to me, Miss Eve, dear.” - -“Yes, I’ll write.” - -She found that Canterton had not come to the point of saying good-bye. -He walked on with her down one of the nursery roads between groups of -rare conifers. - -“I am going to walk to Orchards Corner. Do you mind?” - -“No.” - -“I haven’t met your mother yet. I don’t know whether it is the proper -time for a formal call.” - -“Mother will be delighted. She is always delighted.” - -“A happy temperament.” - -“Very.” - -They chose the way through the fir woods, and talked of the Latimer -Abbey gardens, and of the particular atmosphere Canterton wanted her to -produce for him. - -“Oh, you’ll get it! You’ll get the very thing.” - -“What an optimist you are.” - -“Perhaps I am more of a mystic.” - -The mystery of the woods seemed to quicken that other mysterious -self-consciousness that had been stirred by the child, Lynette. They -were in tune, strung to vibrate to the same subtle, and plaintive notes. -As they walked, their intimate selves kept touching involuntarily and -starting apart, innocent of foreseeing how rich a thrill would come from -the contact. Their eyes questioned each other behind a veil of -incredulity and wonder. - -“You will write to Lynette?” - -“Oh, yes!” - -There was a naive and half plaintive uplift of her voice towards the -“yes.” - -“Little Beech Leaf is a warm-hearted fairy. Do you know, I am very glad -of this comradeship, for her sake.” - -“You make me feel very humble.” - -“No. You are just the kind of elder sister that she needs.” - -He had almost said mother, and the word mother was in Eve’s heart. - -“Do you realise that I am learning from Lynette?” - -“I don’t doubt it. One ought to learn deep things from a child.” - -They reached the lane leading to Orchards Corner, and on coming to the -white fence sighted Mrs. Carfax sitting in the garden, with the -inevitable knitting in her lap. Canterton was taken in and introduced. - -“Please don’t get up.” - -Mrs. Carfax was coy and a little fluttered. - -“Do sit down, Mr. Canterton. I feel that I must thank you for your great -kindness to my daughter. I am sure that both she and I are very -grateful.” - -“So am I, Mrs. Carfax.” - -“Indeed, Mr. Canterton?” - -“For the very fine work your daughter is going to do for me. I was in -doubt as to who to get, when suddenly she appeared.” - -Mrs. Carfax bowed in her chair like some elderly queen driving through -London. - -“I am so glad you like Eve’s paintings. I think she paints quite nicely. -Of course she studied a great deal at the art schools, and she would -have exhibited, only we could not afford all that we should have liked -to afford. It is really most fortunate for Eve that you should be so -pleased with her painting.” - -Her placid sing-song voice, with its underlining of the “sos” the -“quites,” and the “mosts,” made Canterton think of certain maiden aunts -who had tried to spoil him when he was a child. Mother and daughter were -in strange contrast. The one all fire, sensitive aliveness, curiosity, -colour; the other flat, sweetly foolish, toneless, apathetic. - -Canterton stayed chatting with Mrs. Carfax for twenty minutes, while Eve -sat by in silence, watching them with an air of dispassionate curiosity. -Mrs. Carfax was just a child, and Canterton was at his best with -children. Eve found herself thinking how much bigger, gentler, and more -patient his nature was than hers. Things that irritated her, made him -smile. He was one of the few masterful men who could bear with amiable -stupidity. - -When he had said good-bye to her mother, Eve went with him to the gate. - -“Good-bye. Enjoy yourself. And when you write to Lynette, send me a word -or two.” - -He held her hand for two or three seconds, and his eyes looked into -hers. - -“You will be delighted with Latimer.” - -“Yes. And I will try to bring you back what you want.” - -“I have no doubts as to that.” - -She stood for a moment at the gate, watching his broad figure disappear -between the green hedgerows of the lane. A part of herself seemed to go -with him, an outflowing of something that came from the deeps of her -womanhood. - -“Eve, dear, what a nice man Mr. Canterton is.” - -“Nice” was the principal adjective in Mrs. Carfax’s vocabulary. - -“Yes.” - -“So good looking, and such nice manners. You would never have thought -that he——” - -“Was in trade?” - -“Not quite that, dear, but selling things for money.” - -“Of course, he might give them away. I suppose his social position would -be greatly improved!” - -“I don’t think that would be quite feasible, dear. Really, sometimes, -you are almost simple.” - -Canterton was walking through the woods, head bent, his eyes curiously -solemn. - -“What I want! She will bring me back what I want. What is it that I -want?” - -He came suddenly from the shadows of the woods into the full splendour -of the evening light upon blue hills and dim green valleys. He stopped -dead, eyes at gaze, a spasm of vague emotion rising in his throat. This -sun-washed landscape appeared like a mysterious projection of something -that lay deep down in his consciousness. What was it he wanted? A vital -atmosphere such as this—comradeship, sympathy, passionate -understanding. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - - LATIMER - - -When Eve had left for Latimer, the routine of Canterton’s working day -ran with the same purposefulness, like a familiar path in a garden, yet -though the scene was the same, the atmosphere seemed different, even as -a well-known landscape may be glorified and rendered more mysterious by -the light poured out from under the edge of a thunder cloud. A peculiar -tenderness, a glamour of sensitiveness, covered everything. He was more -alive to the beauty of the world about him, and the blue hills seemed to -hang like an enchantment on the edge of the horizon. He felt both -strangely boyish and richly mature. Something had been renewed in him. -He was an Elizabethan, a man of a wonderful new youth, seeing strange -lands rising out of the ocean, his head full of a new splendour of words -and a new majesty of emotions. The old self in him seemed as young and -fresh as the grass in spring. His vitality was up with the birds at -dawn. - -The first two days were days of dreams. The day’s work was the same, yet -it passed with a peculiar pleasureableness as though there were soft -music somewhere keeping a slow rhythm. He was conscious of an added -wonder, of the immanence of something that had not taken material shape. -A richer light played upon the colours of the world about him. He was -conscious of the light, but he did not realise its nature, nor whence it -came. - -On the third day the weather changed, and an absurd restlessness took -possession of him. Rain came in rushes out of a hurrying grey sky, and -the light and the warmth seemed to have gone out of the world. -Mysterious outlines took on a sharp distinctness. Figures were no longer -the glimmering shapes of an Arthurian dream. Canterton became more -conscious of the physical part of himself, of appetites, needs, -inclinations, tendencies. Something was hardening and taking shape. - -He began to think more definitely of Eve at Latimer, and she was no -longer a mere radiance spreading itself over the routine of the day’s -work. Was she comfortable at the old red-faced “George”? Was the weather -interfering with her work? Would she write to Lynette, and would the -letter have a word for him? What a wonderful colour sense she had, and -what cunning in those fingers of hers. He liked to remember that -peculiar radiant look, that tenderness in the eyes that came whenever -she was stirred by something that was unusually beautiful. It was like -the look in the eyes of a mother, or the light in the eyes of a woman -who loved. He had seen it when she was looking at Lynette. - -Then, quite suddenly, he became conscious of a sense of loss. He was -unable to fix his attention on his work, and his thoughts went drifting. -He felt lonely. It was as though he had been asleep and dreaming, and -had wakened up suddenly, hungry and restless, and vaguely discontented. - -Even Lynette’s chatter was a spell cast about his thoughts. Having -created a heroine, the child babbled of her and her fascinations, and -Canterton discovered a secret delight in hearing Lynette talk of Eve -Carfax. He could not utter the things that the child uttered, and yet -they seemed so inevitable and so true, so charmingly and innocently -intimate. It brought Eve nearer, showed her to him as a more radiant, -gracious, laughing figure. Lynette was an enchantress, a siren, and knew -it not, and Canterton’s ears were open to her voice. - -“I wonder if my letter will come to-day, daddy?” - -“Perhaps!” - -“It’s over two—three days. It ought to be a big letter.” - -“A big letter for a little woman.” - -“I wonder if she writes as beautifully as she paints?” - -“Very likely.” - -“And, oh, daddy, will she be back for our garden party?” - -“I think so.” - -“Mother says I can’t behave nicely at parties. I shall go about with -Miss Eve, and I’ll do just what she does. Then I ought to behave very -nicely, oughtn’t I?” - -“Perfectly.” - -“I do love Miss Eve, daddy, don’t you?” - -“We always agree, Miss Pixie.” - -On the fourth day Lynette had her letter. It came by the morning’s post, -with a little devil in red and black ink dancing on the flap of the -envelope. Lynette had not received more than three letters in her life, -and the very address gave her a beautiful new thrill. - - - Miss Lynette Canterton, - Fernhill, - Basingford, - Surrey. - - -Lessons over, she went rushing out in search of her father, and, after -canvassing various under-gardeners, discovered him in a corner of the -rose nursery. - -“Miss Eve’s written, daddy! I knew she would. Would you like to read it? -Here’s a message for you.” - -He sat down on a wooden bench, and drawing Lynette into the hollow of -one arm, took the letter in a big hand. It was written on plain cream -paper of a roughish texture, with a little picture of the “George Hotel” -penned in the right upper corner. Eve’s writing was the writing of the -younger generation, so different from the regular, sloping, -characterless style of the feminine Victorians. It was rather upright, -rather square, picturesque in its originality, and with a certain -decorative distinctness that covered the sheet of paper with personal -and intimate values. - - “Dear Lynette,—I am writing to you at a funny little table in a - funny little window that looks out on Latimer Green. It has been - raining all day—oh, such rain!—like thousands of silver wires - falling down straight out of the sky. If you were here we would - sit at the window and make pictures of the queer people—all - legs and umbrellas—walking up and down the streets. Here is the - portrait of an umbrella going out for a walk on a nice pair of - legs in brown gaiters. - - “There is an old raven in the garden here. I tried to make - friends with him, but he pecked my ankles. And they say he uses - dreadful language. Wicked old bird! Here is a picture of him - pretending to be asleep, with one eye open, waiting for some - poor Puss Cat to come into the garden. - - “There is a nice old gardener who makes me tea in the afternoon, - but I don’t like it so much as tea in the Wilderness. - - “I want to be back to see you in your new party frock next - Friday. I feel quite lonely without the Queen of the Fairies. If - you were here I would buy you such cakes at the little shop - across the road. - - “Please tell Mr. Canterton that the weather was very good to me - the first two days, and that I hope he will like the pictures - that I have painted. - - “Good-bye, Lynette, dear, - - Much—much love to you, from - “MISS EVE.” - -Lynette was ecstatic. - -“Isn’t it a lovely letter, daddy? And doesn’t she write beautifully? And -it’s all spelt just as if it were out of a book.” - -Canterton folded the letter with meditative leisureliness. - -“Quite a lovely letter.” - -“I’m going to put it away in my jewel case.” - -“Jewel case? We are getting proud!” - -“It’s only a work-box, really, but I call it a jewel case.” - -“I see. Things are just what we choose to call them.” - -Canterton went about for the rest of the day with a picture of a -dark-haired woman with a sensitive face sitting at a white framed -Georgian window, and looking out upon Latimer Green where all the -red-tiled roofs were dull and wet, and the rain rustled upon the foliage -of the Latimer elms. He could imagine Eve drawing those pen-and-ink -sketches for Lynette, with a glimmer of fun in her eyes, and her lips -smiling. She was seventy miles away, and yet——He found himself -wondering whether her thoughts had reached out to him while she was -writing that letter to Lynette. - -At Latimer the rain was the mere whim of a day, a silver veil let down -on the impulse and tossed aside again with equal capriciousness. Eve was -deep in the Latimer gardens, painting from nine in the morning till six -at night, taking her lunch and tea with her, and playing the gipsy under -a blue sky. - -Save for that one wet day the weather was perfect for studies of vivid -sunlight and dense shadow. Latimer Abbey set upon its hill-side, with -the dense woods shutting out the north, seemed to float in the very blue -of the summer sky. There was no one in residence, and, save for the -gardeners, Eve had the place to herself, and was made to feel like a -child in a fairy story, who discovers some enchanted palace all silent -and deserted, yet kept beautiful by invisible hands. As she sat painting -in the upper Italian garden with its flagged walks, statues, brilliant -parterres, and fountains, she could not escape from a sense of -enchantment. It was all so quiet, and still, and empty. The old clock -with its gilded face in the turret kept smiting the hours with a quaint, -muffled cry, and with each striking of the hour she had a feeling that -all the doors and windows of the great house would open, and that gay -ladies in flowered gowns, and gentlemen in rich brocades would come -gliding out on to the terrace. Gay ghosts in panniers and coloured -coats, powdered, patched, fluttering fans, and cocking swords, quaint in -their stilted stateliness. The magic of the place seemed to flow into -her work, and perhaps there was too much mystery in the classic things -she painted. Some strange northern god had breathed upon the little -sensuous pictures that should have suggested the gem-like gardens of -Pompeii. Clipped yews and box trees, glowing masses of mesembryanthemum -and pelargonium, orange trees in stone vases, busts, statues, masks, -fountains and white basins, all the brilliancy thereof refused to be -merely sensuous and delightful. There was something over it, a -spirituality, a slight mistiness that softened the materialism. Eve knew -what she desired to paint, and yet something bewitched her hands, -puzzled her, made her dissatisified. The Gothic spirit refused to be -conjured, refused to suffer this piece of brilliant formalism to remain -untouched under the thinner blue of the northern sky. - -Eve was puzzled. She made sketch after sketch, and yet was not -satisfied. Was it mediævalism creeping in, the ghosts of old monks -moving round her, and throwing the shadows of their frocks over a pagan -mosaic? Or was the confusing magic in her own brain, or some underflow -of feeling that welled up and disturbed her purpose? - -Moreover, she discovered that another personality had followed her to -Latimer. She felt as though Canterton were present, standing behind her, -looking over her shoulder, and watching her work. She seemed to see -things with his eyes, that the work was his work, and that it was not -her personality alone that mattered. - -The impression grew and became so vivid that it forced her from the mere -contemplation of the colours and the outlines of the things before her -to a subtle consciousness of the world within herself. Why should she -feel that he was always there at her elbow? And yet the impression was -so strong that she fancied that she had but to turn her head to see him, -to talk to him, and to look into his eyes for sympathy and -understanding. She tried to shake the feeling off, to shrug her -shoulders at it, and failed. James Canterton was with her all the while -she worked. - -There was a second Italian garden at Latimer, a recreation, in the -spirit, of the garden of the Villa d’Este at Tivoli, a hill garden, a -world of terraces, stone stairways, shaded walks, box hedges, cypresses -and cedars, fountains, cascades, great water cisterns. Here was more -mystery, deeper shadows, a sadder note. Eve was painting in the lower -garden on the day following the rain, when the lights were softer, the -foliage fresher, the perfumes more pungent. There was the noise of water -everywhere. The sunlight was more partial and more vague, splashing into -the open spaces, hanging caught in the cypresses and cedars, touching -some marble shape, or glittering upon the water in some pool. Try as she -would, Eve felt less impersonal here than in the full sunlight of the -upper garden. That other spirit that had sent her to Latimer seemed to -follow her up and down the moss-grown stairways, to walk with her -through the shadows under the trees. She was more conscious of Canterton -than ever. He was the great, grave lord of the place, watching her work -with steady eyes, compelling her to paint with a touch that was not all -her own. - -Sometimes the head gardener, who had tea made for her in his cottage, -came and watched her painting and angled for a gossip. He was a superior -sort of ancient, with a passion for unearthing the history of plants -that had been introduced from distant countries. Canterton’s name came -up, and the old man found something to talk about. - -“I don’t say as I’m an envious chap, but that’s the sort of life as -would have suited me.” - -Eve paused at her work. - -“Whose?” - -“Why, Mr. Canterton’s, Miss.” - -“You know Mr. Canterton by name?” - -“Know him by name! I reckon I do! Didn’t he raise Eileen Purcell and Jem -Gaunt, and bring all those Chinese and Indian plants into the country, -and hybridise Mephistopheles? Canterton! It’s a name to conjure with.” - -Eve felt an indefinable pleasure in listening to the fame of the man -whose work she was learning to share, for it was fame to be spoken of -with delight by this old Latimer gardener. - -“Mr. Canterton’s writing a book, is he?” - -“Yes, and I am painting some of the pictures for it.” - -“Are you now? I have a notion I should like that book. Aye, it should be -a book!” - -“The work of years.” - -“Sure! None of your cheap popular sixpenny amateur stuff. It’ll be what -you call ‘de lucks,’ won’t it? Such things cost money.” - -Eve was silent a moment. The old man was genuine enough, and not -touting. - -“Perhaps Mr. Canterton would send you a copy. You would appreciate it. -I’ll give him your name.” - -“No, no, though I thank you, miss. A good tool is worth its money. I’m -not a man to get a good thing for nothing. I reckon I’ll buy that there -book.” - -“It won’t be published for two or three years.” - -“Oh, I’m in no hurry! I’m used to waiting for things to grow solid. -Sapwood ain’t no use to anybody.” - -Eve had a desire to see the hill garden by moonlight, and the head -gardener was sympathetic. - -“We lock the big gate at dusk when his lordship’s away. But you come -round at nine o’clock to the postern by the dovecot, and I’ll let you -in.” - -The hill garden’s mood was suited to the full moon. Eve had dreamt of -such enchantments, but had never seen them till that summer night. There -was not a cloud in the sky, and the cypresses and cedars were like the -black spires of a city. The alleys and walks were tunnels of gloom. Here -and there a statue or a fountain glimmered, and the great water cisterns -were pools of ink reflecting the huge white disc of the moon. - -Eve wandered to and fro along the moonlit walks and up and down the dim -stairways. The stillness was broken only by the splash of water, and by -the turret clock striking the quarters. - -It was the night of her last day at Latimer. She would be sorry to leave -it, and yet, to-morrow she would be at Fernhill. Lynette’s glowing head -flashed into her thoughts, and a rush of tenderness overtook her. If -life could be like the joyous eyes of the child, if passion went no -further, if all problems remained at the age of seven! - -How would Canterton like the pictures she had painted? A thrill went -through her, and at the same time she felt that the garden was growing -cold. A sense of unrest ruffled the calm of the moonlit night. She felt -near to some big, indefinable force, on the edge of the sea, vaguely -afraid of she knew not what. - -She would see him to-morrow. It was to be the day of the Fernhill garden -party, and she had promised Lynette that she would go. - -She felt glad, yet troubled, half tempted to shirk the affair, and to -stay with her mother at Orchards Corner. - -A week had passed, and she could not escape from the knowledge that -something had happened to her in that week. - -Yet what an absurd drift of dreams was this that she was suffering. The -moonlight and the mystery were making her morbid and hypersensitive. - -To-morrow she would walk out into the sunlight and meet him face to face -in the thick of a casual crowd. All the web of self-consciousness would -fall away. She would find herself talking to a big, brown-faced man with -steady eyes and a steady head. He was proof against such imaginings, far -too strong to let such fancies cloud his consciousness. - -Moreover they were becoming real good friends, and she imagined that she -understood him. She had been too much alone this week. His magnificent -and kindly sanity would make her laugh a little over the impressions -that had haunted her in the gardens of Latimer. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - - A WEEK’S DISCOVERY - - -Those who saw Lynette’s swoop towards her heroine attached no esoteric -meaning to its publicity. A sage green frock and a bronze gold head went -darting between the figures on the Fernhill lawn. - -Mrs. Brocklebank, who could stop most people in full career, as a -policeman halts the traffic in the city, discovered that it was possible -for her largeness to be ignored. - -“Lynette, my dear, come and show me——” - -Lynette whisked past her unheedingly. Mrs. Brocklebank tilted her -glasses. - -“Dear me, how much too impetuous that child is. I am always telling -Gertrude that she is far too wild and emotional.” - -Mrs. Lankhurst, who was Mrs. Brocklebank’s companion for the moment, -threw back an echo. - -“A little neurotic, I think.” - -Mrs. Lankhurst was a typical hard-faced, raddled, cut-mouthed -Englishwoman, a woman who had ceased to trouble about her appearance -simply because she had been married for fifteen years and felt herself -comfortably and sexually secure. An unimaginative self-complacency seems -to be the chief characteristic of this type of Englishwoman. She appears -to regard marriage as a release from all attempts at subtilising the -charm of dress, lets her complexion go, her figure slacken, her lips -grow thin. “George” is serenely and lethargically constant, so why -trouble about hats? So the good woman turns to leather, rides, gardens, -plays golf, and perhaps reads questionable novels. The sex problem does -not exist for her, yet Mrs. Lankhurst’s “George” was notorious and -mutable behind her back. She thought him cased up in domestic buckram, -and never the lover of some delightful little _dame aux Camellias_, who -kept her neck white, and her sense of humour unimpaired. - -Lynette’s white legs flashed across the grass. - -“Oh, Miss Eve!” - -Eve Carfax had stepped out through the open drawing-room window, a slim -and sensitive figure that carried itself rather proudly in the face of a -crowd. - -“Lynette!” - -“I knew you’d come! I knew you’d come!” - -She held out hands that had to be taken and held, despite the formal -crowd on the lawn. - -“I’m so glad you’re back.” - -A red mouth waited to be kissed. - -“We have missed you—daddy and I.” - -“My dear——” - -Mrs. Brocklebank was interested. So was her companion. - -“Who is that girl?” - -Mrs. Lankhurst had a way of screwing up her eyes, and wrinkling her -forehead. - -“A Miss Carfax. She lives with her mother near here. Retired -tradespeople, I imagine. The girl paints. She is doing work for Mr. -Canterton—illustrating catalogues, I suppose.” - -“The child seems very fond of her.” - -“Children have a habit of making extraordinary friendships. It is the -dustman, or an engine-driver, or something equally primitive.” - -“I suppose one would call the girl pretty?” - -“Too French!” - -Mrs. Lankhurst nodded emphatically. - -“Englishmen are so safe. Now, in any other country it would be -impossible——” - -“Oh, quite! I imagine such a man as James Canterton——” - -“The very idea is indecent. Our men are so reliable. One never bothers -one’s head. Yet one has only to cross the Channel——” - -“A decadent country. The women make the morals of the men. Any nation -that thinks so much about dress uncovers its own nakedness.” - -The multi-coloured crowd had spread itself over the whole of the broad -lawn in the front of the house, for Gertrude Canterton’s garden parties -were very complete affairs, claiming people from half the county. She -had one of the best string bands that was to be obtained, ranged in the -shade of the big sequoia. The great cedar was a kind of kiosk, and a -fashionable London caterer had charge of the tea. - -Lynette kept hold of Eve’s hand. - -“Where is your mother, dear?” - -“Do you want to see mother?” - -“Of course.” - -They wound in and out in quest of Gertrude Canterton, and found her at -last in the very centre of the crowd, smiling and wriggling in the -stimulating presence of a rear-admiral. She was wearing a yellow dress -and a purple hat, a preposterous and pathetic combination of colours -when the man she had married happened to be one of the greatest flower -colourists in the kingdom. Eve shook hands and was smiled at. - -“How do you do, Miss Garvice?” - -“It isn’t Garvice, mother.” - -Eve was discreet and passed on, but Lynette was called back. - -“Lynette, come and say how do you do to Admiral Mirlees.” - -Lynette stretched out a formal hand. - -“How do you do, Admiral Mirlees?” - -The sailor gave her a big hand, and a sweep of the hat. - -“How do you do, Miss Canterton? Charmed to meet you! Supposing you come -and show me the garden?” - -Lynette eyed him gravely. - -“Most of it’s locked up.” - -“Locked up?” - -“Because people steal daddy’s things.” - -“Lynette!” - -“I’m very busy, Admiral, but I can give you ten minutes.” - -The sailor’s eyes twinkled, but Gertrude Canterton was angry. - -“Lynette, go and show Admiral Mirlees all the garden.” - -“My dear Mrs. Canterton, I am quite sure that your daughter is telling -the truth. She must be in great demand, and I shall be grateful for ten -minutes.” - -Lynette’s eyes began to brighten to the big playful child in him. - -“Lord Admiral, I think you must look so nice in a cocked hat. I’ve left -Miss Eve, you see. She’s been away, and she’s my great friend.” - -“I won’t stand in Miss Eve’s way.” - -“But she’s not a bit selfish, and I think I might spare half an hour.” - -“Miss Canterton, let me assure you that I most deeply appreciate this -compliment.” - -Eve, left alone, wandered here and there, knowing hardly a soul, and -feeling rather lost and superfluous. Happiness in such shows consists in -being comfortably inconspicuous, a talker among talkers, though there -are some who can hold aloof with an air of casual detachment, and -outstare the crowd from some pillar of isolation. Eve had a -self-conscious fit upon her. Gertrude Canterton’s parties were huge and -crowded failures. The subtle atmosphere that pervades such social -assemblies was restless, critical, uneasy, at Fernhill. People talked -more foolishly than usual, and were either more absurdly stiff or more -absurdly genial than was their wont. - -The string band had begun to play one of Brahms’ Hungarian melodies. It -was a superb band, and the music had an impetuous and barbaric -sensuousness, a Bacchic rush of half-naked bodies whirling together -through a shower of vine leaves and flowers. The talk on the lawn seemed -so much gabble, and Eve wandered out, and round behind the great sequoia -where she could listen to the music and be at peace. She wondered what -the violinists thought of the crowd over yonder, these men who could -make the strings utter wild, desirous cries. What a stiff, preposterous, -and complacent crowd it seemed. Incongruous fancies piqued her sense of -humour. If Pan could come leaping out of the woods, if ironical satyrs -could seize and catch up those twentieth century women, and wild-eyed -girls pluck the stiff men by the chins. The music suggested it, but who -had come to listen to the music? - -“I have been hunting you through the crowd.” - -She turned sharply, with all the self-knowledge that she had won at -Latimer rushing to the surface. A few words spoken in the midst of the -crying of the violins. She felt the surprised nakedness of her emotions, -that she was stripped for judgment, and that sanity would be whipped -into her by the scourge of a strong man’s common sense. - -“I have not been here very long.” - -She met his eyes and held her breath. - -“I saw you with Lynette, but I could not make much headway.” - -Canterton had taken her hand and held it a moment, but his eyes never -left her face. She was mute, full of a wonder that was half exultant, -half afraid. All those subtle fancies that had haunted her at Latimer -were becoming realities, instead of melting away into the reasonable -sunlight. What had happened to both of them in a week? He was the same -big, brown, quiet man of the world, magnanimous, reliable, a little -reticent and proud, yet from the moment that he had spoken and she had -turned to meet his eyes she had known that he had changed. - -“I promised Lynette that I would come.” - -“Aren’t you tired?” - -“Tired? No. I left Latimer early, and after all, it is only seventy -miles. I got home about twelve and found mother knitting just as though -she had been knitting ever since I left her. Lynette looks lovely.” - -She felt the wild necessity of chattering, of covering things up with -sound, of giving her thoughts time to steady themselves. His eyes -overwhelmed her. It was not that they were too audacious or too -intimate. On the contrary they looked at her with a new softness, a new -awe, a kind of vigilant tenderness that missed nothing. - -“I think you are looking very well.” - -“I am very well.” - -She caught quick flitting glances going over her, noticing her simple -little black hat shaped like an almond, her virginal white dress and -long black gloves. The black and white pleased him. Her feminine -instinct told her that. - -“I came round here to listen to the music.” - -“Music is expected at these shows, and not listened to. I always call -this ‘Padlock Day.’” - -She laughed, glad of a chance to let emotions relax for a moment. - -“Padlock Day! Do you mean——” - -“There are too many Mrs. Brocklebanks about.” - -“But surely——” - -“You would be surprised if I were to tell you how some of my choice -things used to be pilfered on these party days. Now I shut up my -business premises on these state occasions, for fear the Mrs. -Brocklebanks should bring trowels in their sunshades.” - -“And instead, you give them good music?” - -“Which they don’t listen to, and they could not appreciate it if they -did.” - -“You are severe!” - -“Am I? Supposing these men gave us the Second Hungarian Rhapsody, how -could you expect the people to understand it? In fact, it is not a thing -to be understood, but to be felt. Our good friends would be shocked if -they felt as Liszt probably meant people to feel it. Blood and wine and -garlands and fire in the eyes. Well, how did you like Latimer?” - -The blood rose again to her face, and she knew that the same light was -in his eyes. - -“Perfect. I was tempted to dream all my time away instead of painting. I -hope you will like the pictures. There was something in the atmosphere -of the place that bothered me.” - -“Oh?” - -“Yes, just as though ghosts were trying to play tricks with my hands. -The gardens are classic, renaissance, or what you please. It should have -been all sunny, delightful formalism, but then——” - -“Something Gothic crept in.” - -“How do you know that?” - -“I have been to Latimer.” - -Her eyes met his with a flash of understanding. - -“Of course. But I——Well, you must judge.” - -The music had stopped, and an eddy of the crowd came lapping round -behind the sequoia. Canterton was captured by an impetuous amateur -gardener in petticoats who had written a book about something or other, -and who always cast her net broadly at an interesting man. - -“Oh, Mr. Canterton, can you tell me about those Chinese primulas?” - -To Eve Carfax it appeared part of the whimsical and senseless spirit of -such a gathering that she should be carried up against Gertrude -Canterton, whose great joy was to exercise the power of patronage. - -“Miss Carfax, Mr. Canterton seems so pleased with your paintings. I am -sure you are being of great use to him.” - -As a matter of fact, Canterton had hardly so much as mentioned Eve’s art -to his wife, and Eve herself felt that she had nothing to say to -Gertrude Canterton. Her pride hardened in her and refused to be cajoled. - -“I am glad Mr. Canterton likes my work.” - -“I am sure he does. Have you studied much in town?” - -“For two or three years. And I spent a year in Paris.” - -“Indeed!” - -Gertrude Canterton’s air of surprise was unconsciously offensive. - -“Do you ever paint portraits?” - -“I have tried.” - -“I hear it is the most lucrative part of the profession. Now, -miniatures, for instance—there has been quite a craze for miniatures. -Have you tried them?” - -“Oh, yes!” - -“Really? We must see what you can do. You might show me a—a sample, and -I can mention it to my friends.” - -Eve had become ice. - -“Thank you, but I am afraid I shall not have the time.” - -“Indeed.” - -“I want to give all my energy to flower painting.” - -“I see—I see. Oh, Mrs. Dempster, how are you? How good of you to come. -Have you had tea? No? Oh, do come and let me get you some!” - -Eve was alone again, and conscious of a sense of strife within her. -Gertrude Canterton’s voice had raised an echo, an echo that brought back -suggestions of antipathy and scorn. Those few minutes spent with her had -covered the world of Eve’s impressions with a cold, grey light. She felt -herself a hard young woman, quite determined against patronage, and -quite incapable of letting herself be made a fool of by any emotions -whatever. - -Glancing aside she saw Canterton talking to a parson. He was talking -with his lips, but his eyes were on her. He had the hovering and -impatient air of a man held back against his inclinations, and trying to -cover with courtesy his desire to break away. - -He was coming back to her, for there was something inevitable and -magnetic about those eyes of his. A little spasm of shame and exultation -glowed out from the midst of the half cynical mood that had fallen on -her. She turned and moved away, wondering what had become of Lynette. - -“I want to show you something.” - -She felt herself thrill. The hardness seemed to melt at the sound of his -voice. - -“Oh?” - -“Let’s get away from the crowd. It is really preposterous. What fools we -all are in a crowd.” - -“Too much self-consciousness.” - -“Are you, too, self-conscious?” - -“Sometimes.” - -“Not when you are interested.” - -“Perhaps not.” - -They passed several of Canterton’s men parading the walks leading to the -nurseries. Temporary wire fences and gates had been put up here and -there. Canterton smiled. - -“Doesn’t it strike you as almost too pointed?” - -“What, that barbed wire?” - -“Yes. I believe I have made myself an offence to the neighbourhood. But -the few people I care about understand. Besides, we give to our -friends.” - -“I think you must have been a brave man.” - -“No, an obstinate one. I did not see why the Mrs. Brocklebanks should -have pieces of my rare plants. I have even had my men bribed once or -twice. You should hear Lavender on the subject. Look at that!” - -He had brought her down to see the heath garden, and her verdict was an -awed silence. They stood side by side, looking at the magnificent masses -of colour glowing in the afternoon light. - -“Oh, how exquisite!” - -“It is rather like drinking when one is thirsty.” - -“Yes.” - -He half turned to her. - -“I want to see the Latimer paintings. May I come down after dinner, and -have a chat with your mother?” - -She felt something rise in her throat, a faint spasm of resistance that -lasted only for a moment. - -“But—the artificial light?” - -“I want to see them.” - -It was not so much a surrender on her part as a tacit acceptance of his -enthusiasm. - -“Yes, come.” - -“Thank you.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - - A MAN IN THE MOONLIGHT - - -It was no unusual thing for Canterton to spend hours in the gardens and -nurseries after dark. He was something of a star-gazer and amateur -astronomer, but it was the life of the earth by night that drew him out -with lantern, collecting-box and hand lens. Often he went moth hunting, -for the history of many a moth is also the history of some pestilence -that cankers and blights the green growth of some tree or shrub. No one -who has not gone out by night with a lantern to search and to observe -has any idea of the strange, creeping life that wakes with the darkness. -It is like the life of another world, thousand-legged, slimy, grotesque, -repulsive, and yet full of significance to the Nature student who goes -out to use his eyes. - -Canterton had some of Darwin’s thoroughness and patience. He had spent -hours watching centipedes or the spore changes of myxomycetes on a piece -of dead fir bough. He experimented with various compounds for the -extinction of slugs, and studied the ways of wood-lice and earth worms. -All very ridiculous, no doubt, in a man whose income ran into thousands -a year. Sometimes he had been able to watch a shrew at work, or perhaps -a queer snuffling sound warned him of the nearness of a hedgehog. This -was the utilitarian side of his vigils. He was greatly interested, -æsthetically and scientifically, in the sleep of plants and flowers, and -in the ways of those particular plants whose loves are consummated at -night, shy white virgins with perfumed bodies who leave the day to their -bolder and gaudier fellows. Some moth played Eros. He studied plants in -their sleep, the change of posture some of them adopted, the drooping of -the leaves, the closing of the petals. All sorts of things happened of -which the ordinary gardener had not the slightest knowledge. There were -atmospheric changes to be recorded, frosts, dew falls and the like. Very -often Canterton would be up before sunrise, watching which birds were -stirring first, and who was the first singer to send a twitter of song -through the grey gate of the dawn. - -But as he walked through the fir woods towards Orchards Corner, his eyes -were not upon the ground or turned to the things that were near him. -Wisps of a red sunset still drifted about the west, and the trunks of -the trees were barred in black against a yellow afterglow. Soon a full -moon would be coming up. Heavy dew was distilling out of the quiet air -and drawing moist perfumes out of the thirsty summer earth. - -Blue dusk covered the heathlands beyond Orchards Corner, and the little -tree-smothered house was invisible. A light shone out from a window as -Canterton walked up the lane. Something white was moving in the dusk, -drifting to and fro across the garden like a moth from flower to flower. - -Canterton’s hand was on the gate. Never before had night fallen for him -with such a hush of listening enchantment. The scents seemed more -subtle, the freshness of the falling dew indescribably delicious. He -passed an empty chair standing on the lawn, and found a white figure -waiting. - -“I wondered whether you would come.” - -“I did not wonder. What a wash of dew, and what scents.” - -“And the stillness. I wanted to see the moon hanging in the fir woods.” - -“The rim will just be topping the horizon.” - -“You know the time by all the timepieces in Arcady.” - -“I suppose I was born to see and to remember.” - -They went into the little drawing-room that was Eve’s despair when she -felt depressed. This room was Mrs. Carfax’s _lararium_, containing all -the ugly trifles that she treasured, and some of the ugliest furniture -that ever was manufactured. John Carfax had been something of an amateur -artist, and a very crude one at that. He had specialised in genre work, -and on the walls were studies of a butcher’s shop, a fruit stall, a fish -stall, a collection of brass instruments on a table covered with a red -cloth, and a row of lean, stucco-fronted houses, each with a euonymus -hedge and an iron gate in front of it. The carpet was a Kidderminster, -red and yellow flowers on a black ground, and the chairs were -upholstered in green plush. Every available shelf and ledge seemed to be -crowded with knick-knacks, and a stuffed pug reclined under a glass case -in the centre of a walnut chiffonier. - -Eve understood her mother’s affection for all this bric-à-brac, but -to-night, when she came in out of the dew-washed dusk, the room made her -shudder. She wondered what effect it would have on Canterton, though she -knew he was far too big a man to sneer. - -Mrs. Carfax, in black dress and white lace cap, sat in one of the green -plush arm-chairs. She was always pleased to see people, and to chatter -with amiable facility. And Canterton could be at his best on such -occasions. The little old lady thought him “so very nice.” - -“It is so good of you to come down and see Eve’s paintings. Eve, dear, -fetch your portfolio. I am so sorry I could not come to Mrs. Canterton’s -garden party, but I have to be so very careful, because of my heart. I -get all out of breath and in a flutter so easily. Do sit down. I think -that is a comfortable chair.” - -Canterton sat down, and Eve went for her portfolio. - -“My husband was quite an artist, Mr. Canterton, though an amateur. These -are some of his pictures.” - -“So the gift is inherited!” - -“I don’t think Eve draws so well as her father did. You can see——” - -Canterton got up and went round looking at John Carfax’s pictures. They -were rather extraordinary productions, and the red meat in the butcher’s -shop was the colour of red sealing wax. - -“Mr. Carfax liked ‘still life.’” - -“Yes, he was a very quiet man. So fond of a littlelararium fishing—when -he could get it. That is why he painted fish so wonderfully. Don’t you -think so, Mr. Canterton?” - -“Very probably.” - -Eve returned and found Canterton studying the row of stucco houses with -their iron gates and euonymus hedges. She coloured. - -“Will the lamp be right, Eve, dear?” - -“Yes, mother.” - -She opened her portfolio on a chair, and after arranging the lamp-shade, -proceeded to turn over sketch after sketch. Canterton had drawn his -chair to a spot where he could see the work at its best. He said -nothing, but nodded his head from time to time, while Eve acted as -show-woman. - -Mrs. Carfax excelled herself. - -“My dear, how queerly you must see things. I am sure I have never seen -anything like that.” - -“Which, mother?” - -“That queer, splodgy picture. I don’t understand the drawing. Now, if -you look at one of your father’s pictures, the butcher’s shop, for -instance——” - -Eve smiled, almost tenderly. - -“That is not a picture, mother. I mean, mine. It is just a whim.” - -“My dear, how can you paint a whim?” - -Eve glanced at Canterton and saw that he was absorbed in studying the -last picture she had turned up from the portfolio. His eyes looked more -deeply set and more intent, and he sat absolutely motionless, his head -bowed slightly. - -“That is the best classic thing I managed to do.” - -He looked at her, nodded, and turned his eyes again to the picture. - -“But even there——” - -“There is a film of mystery?” - -“Yes.” - -“It was provoking. I’m afraid I have failed.” - -“No. That is Latimer. It was just what I saw and felt myself, though I -could not have put it into colour. Show me the others again.” - -Mrs. Carfax knitted, and Eve put up sketch after sketch, watching -Canterton’s face. - -“Now, I like that one, dear.” - -“Do you, mother?” - -“Yes, but why have you made all the poplar trees black?” - -“They are not poplars, mother, but cypresses.” - -“Oh, I see, cypresses, the trees they grow in cemeteries.” - -Canterton began to talk to Eve. - -“It is very strange that you should have seen just what I saw.” - -“Is it? But you are not disappointed?” - -His eyes met hers. - -“I don’t know anybody else who could have brought back Latimer like -that. Quite wonderful.” - -“You mean it?” - -“Of course.” - -He saw her colour deepen, and her eyes soften. - -Mrs. Carfax was never long out of a conversation. - -“Are they clever pictures, Mr. Canterton?” - -“Very clever.” - -“I don’t think I understand clever pictures. My husband could paint a -row of houses, and there they were.” - -“Yes, that is a distinct gift. Some of us see more, others less.” - -“Do you think that if Eve perseveres she will paint as well as her -father?” - -Canterton remained perfectly grave. - -“She sees things in a different way, and it is a very wonderful way.” - -“I am so glad you think so. Eve, dear, is it not nice to hear Mr. -Canterton say that?” - -Mrs. Carfax chattered on till Eve grew restless, and Canterton, who felt -her restlessness, rose to go. He had come to be personal, so far as -Eve’s pictures were concerned, but he had been compelled to be -impersonal for the sake of the old lady, whose happy vacuity emptied the -room of all ideas. - -“It was so good of you to come, Mr. Canterton.” - -“I assure you I have enjoyed it.” - -“I do wish we could persuade Mrs. Canterton to spend an evening with us. -But then, of course, she is such a busy, clever woman, and we are such -quiet, stay-at-home people. And I have to go to bed at ten. My doctor is -such a tyrant.” - -“I hope I haven’t tired you.” - -“Oh, dear, no! And please give my kind remembrance to Mrs. Canterton.” - -“Thank you. Good night!” - -Canterton found himself in the garden with his hand on the gate leading -into the lane. The moon had swung clear of the fir woods, and a pale, -silvery horizon glimmered above the black tops of the trees. Canterton -wandered on down the lane, paused where it joined the high road, and -stood for a while under the dense canopy of a yew. - -He felt himself in a different atmosphere, breathing a new air, and he -let himself contemplate life as it might have appeared, had there been -no obvious barriers and limitations. For the moment he had no desire to -go back to Fernhill, to break the dream, and pick up the associations -that Fernhill suggested. The house was overrun by his wife’s friends who -had come to stay for the garden party. Lynette would be asleep, and she -alone, at Fernhill, entered into the drama of his dreams. - -Mrs. Carfax and the little maid had gone to bed, and Eve, left to -herself, was turning over her Latimer pictures and staring at them with -peculiar intensity. They suggested much more to her than the Latimer -gardens, being part of her own consciousness, and part of another’s -consciousness. Her face had a glowing pallor as she sat there, musing, -wondering, staring into impossible distances with a mingling of -exultation and unrest. Did he know what had happened to them both? Had -he realised all that had overtaken them in the course of one short week? - -The room felt close and hot, and turning down the lamp, Eve went into -the narrow hall, opened the door noiselessly, and stepped out into the -garden. Moonlight flooded it, and the dew glistened on the grass. She -wandered down the path, looking at the moon and the mountainous black -outlines of the fir woods. And suddenly she stopped. - -A man was sitting in the chair that had been left out on the lawn. He -started up, and stood bareheaded, looking at her half guiltily. - -“Is it you?” - -“I am sorry. I was just dreaming.” - -He hesitated, one hand on the back of the chair. - -“I wanted to think——” - -“Yes.” - -“Good night!” - -“Good night!” - -She watched him pass through the gate and down the lane. And everything -seemed very strange and still. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - - MRS. CARFAX FINISHES HER KNITTING - - -It was a curious coincidence that Mrs. Carfax should have come to the -end of her white wool that night, put her pins aside and left her work -unfinished. - -It was the last time that Eve heard the familiar clicking of the ivory -pins, for Mrs. Carfax died quietly in her sleep, and was found with a -placid smile on her face, her white hair neatly parted into two plaits, -and her hands lying folded on the coverlet. She had died like a child, -dreaming, and smiling in the midst of her dreams. - -For the moment Eve was incredulous as she bent over the bed, for her -mother’s face looked so fresh and tranquil. Then the truth came to her, -and she stood there, shocked and inarticulate, trying to realise what -had happened. Sudden and poignant memories rose up and stung her. She -remembered that she had almost despised the little old lady who lay -there so quietly, and now, in death, she saw her as the child, a -pathetic creature who had never escaped from a futile childishness, who -had never known the greater anguish and the greater joys of those whose -souls drink of the deep waters. A great pity swept Eve away, a choking -compassion, an inarticulate remorse. She was conscious of sudden -loneliness. All the memories of long ago, evoked by the dead face, rose -up and wounded her. She knelt down, hid her face against the pillow, -uttering in her heart that most human cry of “Mother.” - -Canterton was strangely restless that morning. Up at six, he wandered -about the gardens and nurseries, and Lavender, who came to him about -some special work that had to be done in one of the glasshouses, found -him absent and vague. The life of the day seemed in abeyance, remaining -poised at yesterday, when the moon hung over the black ridge of the fir -woods by Orchards Corner. Daylight had come, but Canterton was still in -the moonlight, sitting in that chair on the dew-wet grass, dreaming, to -be startled again by Eve’s sudden presence. He wondered what she had -thought, whether she had suspected that he had been imagining her his -wife, Orchards Corner their home, and he, the man, sitting there in the -moonlight, while the woman he loved let down her dark hair before the -mirror in their room. - -If Lavender could not wake James Canterton, breakfast and Gertrude -Canterton did. There were half a dozen of Gertrude’s friends staying in -the house, serious women who had travelled with batches of pamphlets and -earnest-minded magazines, and who could talk sociology even at -breakfast. Canterton came in early and found Gertrude scribbling letters -at the bureau in the window. None of her friends were down yet, and a -maid was lighting the spirit lamps under the egg-boiler and the chafing -dishes. - -“Oh, James!” - -“Yes.” - -She was sitting in a glare of light, and Canterton was struck by the -thinness of her neck, and the way her chin poked forward. She had done -her hair in a hurry, and it looked streaky and meagre, and the colour of -wet sand. And this sunny morning the physical repulsion she inspired in -him came as a shock to his finer nature. It might be ungenerous, and -even shameful, but he could not help considering her utter lack of -feminine delicacy, and the hard, gaunt outlines of her face and figure. - -“I want you to take Mrs. Grigg Batsby round the nurseries this morning. -She is such an enthusiast.” - -“I’ll see what time I have.” - -“Do try to find time to oblige me sometimes. I don’t think you know how -much work you make for me, especially when you find some eccentric way -of insulting everybody at once.” - -“What do you mean, Gertrude?” - -The maid had left the room, and Gertrude Canterton half turned in her -chair. Her shoulders were wriggling, and she kept fidgeting with her -pen, rolling it to and fro between her thumb and forefinger. - -“Can’t you imagine what people say when you put up wire fences, and have -the gates locked on the day of our garden party?” - -“Do you think that Whiteley would hold a party in his business -premises?” - -“Oh, don’t be so absurd! I wonder why people come here.” - -“I really don’t know. Certainly not to look at the flowers.” - -“Then why be so eccentrically offensive?” - -“Because there are always a certain number of enthusiastic ladies who -like to get something for nothing. I believe it is a feminine -characteristic.” - -Mrs. Grigg Batsby came sailing into the room, gracious as a great -galleon freighted with the riches of Peru. She was an extremely wealthy -person, and her consciousness of wealth shone like a golden lustre, a -holy effulgence that penetrated into every corner. Her money had made -her important, and filled her with a sort of after-dinner -self-satisfaction. She issued commands with playful regality, ordered -the clergy hither and thither, and had a half humorous and half stately -way of referring to any male thing as “It.” - -“My dear Mrs. Batsby, I have just asked James to take you round this -morning.” - -The lady rustled and beamed. - -“And is ‘It’ agreeable? I have always heard that ‘Its’ time is so -precious.” - -“James will be delighted.” - -“Obliging thing.” - -Canterton was reserved and a little stiff. - -“I shall be ready at eleven. I can give you an hour, Mrs. Batsby.” - -“‘It’ is really a humorist, Mrs. Canterton. That barbed wire! I don’t -think I ever came across anything so delightfully original.” - -Gertrude frowned and screwed her shoulders. - -“I cannot see the humour.” - -“But I think Mrs. Batsby does. I have a good many original plants on my -premises.” - -“Oh, you wicked, witty thing! And original sin?” - -“Yes, it is still rather prevalent.” - -There was no queen’s progress through the Fernhill grounds for Mrs. -Grigg Batsby that morning, for by ten o’clock her very existence had -been forgotten, and she was left reading the _Athenæum_, and wondering, -with hauteur, what had become of the treacherous “It.” Women like Mrs. -Grigg Batsby have a way of exacting as a right what the average man -would not presume to ask as a favour. That they should happen to notice -anything is in itself a sufficient honour conferred upon the recipient, -who becomes a debtor to them in service. - -Canterton had drifted in search of Eve, had failed to find her, and was -posing himself with various questions, when one of the under-gardeners -brought him a letter. It had taken the man twenty minutes of hide and -seek to trace Canterton’s restless wanderings. - -“Just come from Orchards Corner, sir. The young lady brought it.” - -“Miss Carfax?” - -“No, sir, the young lady.” - -“I see. All right, Gibbs.” - -Canterton opened the letter, and stood reading it in the shade of a row -of cypresses. - - “Dear Mr. Canterton,—Mother died in the night. She must have - died in her sleep. I always knew it might happen, but I never - suspected that it would happen so suddenly. It has numbed me, - and yet made me think. - - “I wanted you to know why I did not come to-day. - - “EVE CARFAX.” - -Canterton stood stock still, his eyes staring at Eve’s letter. He was -moved, strongly moved, as all big-hearted people must be by the sudden -and capricious presence of Death. The little white-haired, chattering -figure had seemed so much alive the night before, so far from the dark -waters, with her child’s face and busy hands. And Eve had written to -tell him the news, to warn him why she had not come to Fernhill. This -letter of hers—it asked nothing, and yet its very muteness craved more -than any words could ask. To Canterton it was full of many subtle and -intimate messages. She wanted him to know why she had stayed away, -though she did not ask him to come to her. She had let him know that she -was stricken, and that was all. - -He put the letter in his pocket, forgot about Mrs. Grigg Batsby, and -started for Orchards Corner. - -All the blinds were down, and the little house had a blank and puzzled -look. The chair that he had used the previous night still stood in the -middle of one of the lawns. Canterton opened and closed the gate -noiselessly, and walked up the gravel path. - -Eve herself came to the door. He had had a feeling that she had expected -him to come to her, and when he looked into her eyes he knew that he had -not been wrong. She was pale, and quite calm, though her eyes looked -darker and more mysterious. - -“Will you come in?” - -There was no hesitation, no formalism. Each seemed to be obeying an -inevitable impulse. - -Canterton remained silent. Eve opened the door of the drawing-room, and -he followed her. She sat down on one of the green plush chairs, and the -dim light seemed part of the silence. - -“I thought you might come.” - -“Of course I came.” - -He put his hat on the round table. Eve glanced round the room at the -pictures, the furniture and the ornaments. - -“I have been sitting here in this room. I came in here because I -realised what a ghastly prig I have been at times. I wanted to be -hurt—and hurt badly. Isn’t it wonderful how death strips off one’s -conceit?” - -He leant forward with his elbows on his knees, a listener—one who -understood. - -“How I used to hate these things, and to sneer at them. I called them -Victorian, and felt superior. Tell me, what right have we ever to feel -superior?” - -“We are all guilty of that.” - -“Guilty of despising other colour schemes that don’t tone with ours. I -suppose each generation is more or less colour-blind in its sympathies. -Why, she was just a child—just a child that had never grown up, and -these were her toys. Oh, I understand it now! I understood it when I -looked at her child’s face as she lay dead. The curse of being one of -the clever little people!” - -“You are not that.” - -She lay back and covered her eyes with her hands. It was a still grief, -the grief of a pride that humbles itself and makes no mere empty outcry. - -Canterton watched her, still as a statue. But his eyes and mouth were -alive, and within him the warm blood seemed to mount and tremble in his -throat. - -“I think she was quite happy.” - -“Did I do very much?” - -“She was very proud of you in her way. I could see that.” - -“Don’t!” - -“You are making things too deep, too difficult. You say, ‘She was just a -child.’” - -Her hands dropped from her face. - -“Yes.” - -“Your moods passed over her and were not noticed. Some people are not -conscious of clouds.” - -She mused. - -“Yes, but that does not make me feel less guilty.” - -“It might make you feel less bitter regret.” - -Canterton sat back in his chair, spreading his shoulders and drawing in -a deep breath. - -“Have you wired to your relatives?” - -“They don’t exist. Father was an only son, and mother had only one -brother. He is a doctor in a colliery town, and one of the unlucky -mortals. It would puzzle him to find the train fare. He married when he -was fifty, and has about seven children.” - -“Very well, you will let me do everything.” - -He did not speak as a petitioner, but as a man who was calmly claiming a -most natural right. - -She glanced at him, and his eyes dominated hers. - -“But—I can’t bother you——” - -“I can arrange everything. If you will tell me what you wish—what your -mother would have wished.” - -“It will have to be very quiet. You see, we——” - -“I understand all that. Would you like Lynette to come and see you?” - -“Yes, oh, yes! I should like Lynette to come.” - -He pondered a moment, staring at the carpet with its crude patterning of -colours, and when again he began to speak he did not raise his head to -look at her. - -“Of course, this will make no difference to the future?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“Tell me exactly.” - -“All mother’s income dies with her. I have the furniture, and a little -money in hand.” - -“Would you live on here, or take rooms?” - -She hesitated. - -“Perhaps.” - -His eyes rose to meet hers. - -“I want you to stay. We can work together. I’m not inventing work for -you. It’s there. It has been there for the last two or three years.” - -He spoke very gently, and yet some raw surface within her was touched -and hurt. Her mouth quivered with sensitive cynicism. - -“A woman, when she is alone, must get money—somehow. It is bitter bread -that many of us have to eat.” - -“I did not mean to make it taste bitter.” - -Her mouth and eyes softened instantly. - -“You? No. You are different. And that——” - -“Well?” - -“And that makes it more difficult, in a way.” - -“Why should it?” - -“It does.” - -She bent her head as though trying to hide her face from him. He did not -seem to be conscious of what was happening, and of what might happen. -His eyes were clear and far sighted, but they missed the foreground and -its complex details. - -He left his chair and came and stood by her. - -“Eve.” - -“Yes?” - -“Did I say one word about money? Well, let’s have it out, and the dross -done with. I ask you to be my illustrator, colour expert, garden -artist—call it what you like. The work is there, more work than you can -manage. I offer you five hundred a year.” - -She still hid her face from him. - -“That is preposterous. But it is like you in its generosity. But I——” - -“Think. You and I see things as no two other people see them. It is an -age of gardens, and I am being more and more pestered by people who want -to buy plants and ideas. Why, you and I could create some of the finest -things in colour. Think of it. You only want a little more technical -knowledge. The genius is there.” - -She appealed to him with a gesture of the hand. - -“Stop, let me think!” - -He walked to the window and waited. - -Presently Eve spoke, and the strange softness of her voice made him -wonder. - -“Yes, it might be possible.” - -“Then you accept?” - -“Yes, I accept.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - - LYNETTE PUTS ON BLACK - - -Lynette had a little black velvet frock that had been put away in a -drawer, because it was somewhat tarnished and out of fashion. Moreover, -Lynette had grown three or four inches since the black frock had been -made, and even a Queen of the Fairies’ legs will lengthen. Over this -dress rose a contest in which Lynette engaged both her mother and Miss -Vance, and showed some of that tranquil and wise obstinacy that -characterised her father. - -Lynette appeared for lessons, clad in this same black frock, and Miss -Vance, being a matter-of-fact and good-naturedly dictatorial adult, -proceeded to raise objections. - -“Lynette, what have you been doing?” - -“What do you mean, Vancie?” - -“Miss Vance, if you please. Who told you to put on that dress?” - -“I told myself to do it.” - -“Then please tell yourself to go and change it. It is not at all -suitable.” - -“But it is.” - -“My dear, don’t argue! You are quite two years too old for that frock.” - -“Mary can let it out.” - -“Go and change it!” - -Lynette had her moments of dignity, and this was an occasion for -stateliness. - -“Vancie, don’t dare to speak to me like that! I’m in mourning.” - -“In mourning! For whom?” - -“Miss Eve’s mother, of course! Miss Eve is in mourning, and I know -father puts on a black tie.” - -“My dear, don’t be——” - -“Vancie, I am going to wear this frock. You’re not a great friend of -Miss Eve’s, like me. She’s the dearest friend in the world.” - -The governess felt that the dress was eccentric, and yet that Lynette -had a sentimental conviction that carried her cause through. Miss Vance -happened to be in a tactless mood, and appealed to Gertrude Canterton, -and to Gertrude the idea of Lynette going into mourning because a -certain young woman had lost her mother was whimsical and absurd. - -“Lynette, go and change that dress immediately!” - -It was then that Canterton came out in his child. She was serenely and -demurely determined. - -“I must wear it, mother!” - -“You will do nothing of the kind. The skirt is perfectly indecent.” - -“Why?” - -“Your—your knees are showing.” - -“I am not ashamed of my knees.” - -“Lynette, don’t argue! Understand that I will be obeyed. Go and change -that dress!” - -“I am very sorry, mother, but I can’t. You don’t know what great deep -friends me and Miss Eve are.” - -Neither ridicule nor fussy attempts at intimidation had any effect. -There was something in the child’s eyes and manner that forbade physical -coercion. She was sure in her sentiment, standing out for some ideal of -sympathy that was fine and convincing to herself. Lynette appealed to -her father, and to her father the case was carried. - -He sided with Lynette, but not in Lynette’s hearing. - -“What on earth is there to object to, Gertrude?” - -“It is quite absurd, the child wanting to go into mourning because old -Mrs. Carfax is dead.” - -“Children have a way of being absurd, and very often the gods are absurd -with them. The child shall have a black frock.” - -Gertrude twitched her shoulders, and refused to be responsible for -Canterton’s methods. - -“You are spoiling that child. I know it is quite useless for me to -suggest anything.” - -“You are not much of a child yourself, Gertrude. I am. That makes a -difference.” - -Canterton had his car out that afternoon and drove twenty miles to -Reading, with Lynette on the seat beside him. He knew, better than any -woman, what suited the child, so Lynette had a black frock and a little -Quaker bonnet to wear for that other child, Mrs. Carfax, who was dead. - -Within a week Eve was back at Fernhill, painting masses of hollyhocks -and sweet peas, with giant sunflowers and purple-spiked buddlea for a -background. Perhaps nothing had touched her more than Lynette’s black -frock and the impulsive sympathy that had suggested it. - -“I’m so sorry, Miss Eve, dear. I do love you ever so much more now.” - -And Eve had never been nearer tears, with Lynette snuggling up to her, -one arm round her neck, and her warm breath on Eve’s cheek. - -It was holiday time, and Miss Vance’s authority was reduced to the -supervision of country walks, and the giving of a daily piano lesson. -Punch, the terrier, accompanied them on their walks, and Miss Vance -hated the dog, feeling herself responsible for Punch’s improprieties. -Her month’s holiday began in a few days, and Lynette had her eyes on -five weeks of unblemished liberty. - -“Vancie goes on Friday. Isn’t it grand!” - -“But you ought not to be so glad, dear.” - -“But I am glad. Aren’t you? I can paint all day like you, and we’ll have -picnics, and make daddy take us on the river.” - -“Of course, I’m glad you’ll be with me.” - -“Vancie can’t play. You see she’s so very old and grown up.” - -“I don’t think she is much older than I am.” - -“Oh, Miss Eve, years and years! Besides, you’re so beautiful.” - -“You wicked flatterer.” - -“I’m not a flatterer. I’m sure daddy thinks so. I know he does.” - -Eve felt herself flushing, and her heart misgave her, for the lips of -the child made her thrill and feel afraid. She had accepted the new life -tentatively yet recklessly, trying to shut her eyes to the possible -complexities, and to carry things forward with a candour that could not -be questioned. She was painting the full opulence of one of the August -borders, with Lynette beside her on a stool, Lynette who pretended to -dabble in colours, but loved to make Eve talk. It was a day without -wind; all sunlight, blue sky, and white clouds, with haze on the hills, -and somnolence everywhere. Yet Eve was haunted by the sound of the -splashing of the water in the Latimer gardens, a seductive but restless -memory that penetrated all her thoughts. - -“Wasn’t it funny mother not wanting me to wear a black frock?” - -“I don’t know, dear.” - -“But why should she mind?” - -Why, indeed? Eve found herself visualising Gertrude Canterton’s sallow -face and thin, jerky figure, and she felt chilled and discouraged. What -manner of woman was this Gertrude Canterton, this champion of charities, -this eager egoist, this smiler of empty smiles? Had she the eyes and -ears, the jealous instincts of a woman? Did she so much as realise that -the place she called her home hid the dust and dry bones of something -that should have been sacred? Was she, in truth, so blindly -self-sufficient, so smothered in the little vanities of little public -affairs that she had forgotten she was a wife? If so, what an impossible -woman, and what a menace to herself and others. - -“Mother doesn’t care for flowers, Miss Eve.” - -“Oh, how do you know?” - -“I’ve never seen her pick any. And she can’t arrange a vase. I’ve seen -her try.” - -“But she may be fond of them, all the same.” - -“Then why doesn’t she come out here with daddy?” - -“Perhaps she has too much to do.” - -“But I never see her doing anything, like other people. I mean mending -things, and all that. She’s always going out, or writing letters, or -having headaches.” - -Eve had a growing horror of letting Lynette discuss her mother. The -child was innocent enough, but it seemed treacherous and unfair to -listen, and made Eve despise herself, and shiver with a sense of -nearness to those sexual problems that are covered with the merest crust -of make-believe. - -“Oh, here’s Vancie!” - -Eve glanced up and saw the governess approaching along the brick-paved -path. Miss Vance was a matter-of-fact young person, but she was a woman, -with some of the more feminine attributes a little exaggerated. She was -suburban, orthodox as to her beliefs, absolutely without imagination, -yet healthily inquisitive. - -“Music, Lynette! What a nice bit of colour to paint, Miss Carfax.” - -“Quite Oriental, isn’t it?” - -These two women looked at each other, and Eve did not miss the apprizing -and critical interest in Miss Vance’s eyes. She was a little casual -towards Eve, with a casualness that suggested tacit disapproval. The -surface was hard, the poise unsympathetic. - -“You ought to have good weather for your holiday. Where are you going?” - -“Brighton!” - -“Oh, Brighton!” - -“We always go to Brighton!” - -“A habit?” - -“We are a family of habits.” - -She held out a large and rather red hand to Lynette, but Lynette was an -individualist. She, too, understood that Miss Vance was a habit, a -time-table, a schedule, anything but a playmate. They went off together, -Miss Vance with a last apprizing glance at Eve. - -One woman’s attitude may have a very subtle influence on the mood of -another. Most women understand each other instinctively, perhaps through -some ancient sex-language that existed long before sounds became words. -Eve knew quite well what had been exercising Miss Vance’s mind, that she -had been handling other people’s intimacies, calculating their -significance, and their possible developments. And Eve felt angry, -rebellious, scornful, troubled. As a woman she resented the -suggestiveness of this other woman’s curiosity. - -Ten minutes later, when Canterton strolled into the walled garden, he -found Eve sitting idle, her hands lying in her lap. He saw her as a slim -black figure posed in thought, with the border unfurled before her like -some rich tapestry, with threads of purple and gold upon a ground of -green. - -She turned to him with a smile. - -“Lynette has just gone.” - -He did not suspect that her smile was a defence and a screen. - -“I hope the child does not interfere with your work.” - -“No. She lets me be quiet when something particularly delicate has to be -done.” - -Canterton brought up a garden chair. - -“Will it bother you if I take Lynette’s place?” - -“No.” - -“I think I am a little too big for her stool.” - -Eve resumed her painting, but she soon discovered that her attention -flowed more strongly towards the man beside her than towards the flowers -in the border. The tapestry kept blurring its outlines and shifting its -colours, and she played with the work, becoming more and more absorbed -in what Canterton was saying. And yet she was striving all the while to -keep a space clear for her own individuality, so that her thoughts could -move without merely following his. - -Before very long she realised that she was listening to a thinker -thinking aloud in the presence of the one woman who understood. He was -so confident, so strong, so much above the hedgerows of circumstance, -that she began to be more afraid for his sake than for her own. His -words seemed ready to sweep her away into a rare and intimate future. It -was ideal, innocent, almost boyish. He mapped out plans for her; talked -of what they would create; declared for a yearly show of her pictures at -Fernhill, and that her work must be made known in London. They could -take the Goethe Gallery. Then he wanted pictures of the French and -Italian gardens. She could make a tour, sketch the Riviera, paint -rhododendrons and roses by the Italian lakes, and bring him back studies -of Swiss meadows all blue and green and white in May or June. She had a -future. He talked of it almost with passion, as though it were something -that was very precious to his pride. - -Eve’s heart grew heavy. She began to feel a mute pity for Canterton and -for herself. Her vision became so terribly clear and frank that she saw -all that his idealist’s eyes did not see, and felt all that he was too -big and too magnanimous to feel. He did not trouble to understand the -little world about him. Its perspective was not his perspective, and it -had no knowledge of colour. - -She became more and more silent, until this silence of hers was like a -pool of water without a ripple, yet its passivity had a positive effect -upon Canterton’s consciousness. His eyes began to watch her face and to -ask questions. - -“Don’t you see all this?” - -“Oh, yes, I see it all!” - -He was puzzled. - -“Perhaps it does not strike you as real?” - -She turned her face away. - -“Don’t you know that sometimes things may seem too real?” - -He began to be absorbed into her silence of a minute ago. Eve made an -effort, and picked up a brush. She guessed that something was happening -in the heart of the man beside her, and she wondered whether the cold -and conventional light of a more worldly wisdom would break in and -enable him to understand. - -“Eve!” - -“Yes!” - -She kept on with her work. - -“Do you think that I have been talking like a fool?” - -“Oh, no, not that.” - -“Then——” - -She made herself meet his eyes. - -“Sometimes the really fine things are so impossible. That’s why life may -be so sad.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - - JAMES CANTERTON AWAKES - - -Being an individualist, a man who had always depended upon himself, -Canterton had very little of the social sensitiveness that looks -cautiously to the right and to the left before taking a certain path. -All his grown life, from his University days onwards, he had been -dealing with big problems, birth, growth, decay, the eternal sacrament -of sex, the beauty of earth’s flowering. His vision went deep and far. -His life had been so full of the fascination of his work that he had -never been much of a social animal, as the social animal is understood -in a country community. He observed trifles that were stupendously -significant in the world of growth, but he had no mind for the social -trifles round him. Had he had less brawn, less virility, less humour, it -is possible that he would have been nothing more than an erudite fool, -one of those pathetic figures, respected for its knowledge and pitied -for its sappiness. - -Canterton could convince men, and this was because he had long ago -become a conviction to himself. It was not a self-conscious conviction, -and that was why it had such mastery. It never occurred to him to think -about the discretions and the formalities of life. If a thing seemed -good to do, he did it; if it seemed bad, he never gave it a second -thought. His men believed in him with an instinctive faith that would -not suffer contradiction, and had Canterton touched tar, they would have -sworn that the tar was the better for it, and Canterton’s hands clean. -He was so big, so direct, so just, so ready to smile and see the humour -of everything. And he was as clean-minded as his child Lynette, and no -more conscious than she was of the little meannesses and dishonourable -curiosities that make most men and nearly all women hypocrites. - -Canterton’s eyes were open; but he saw only that which his long vision -had taught him to see, and not the things that are focused by smaller -people. That an idea seemed fine, and admirable, and good, was -sufficient for him. He had not cultivated the habit of asking himself -what other people might think. That was why such a man as Canterton may -be so dangerous to himself and to others when he starts to do some big -and unusual thing. - -He knew now that he loved Eve Carfax. It was like the sudden rising of -some enchanted island out of the sea, magical yet real, nor was he a -gross beast to break down the boughs for the fruit and to crush the -flowers for their perfumes. He had the atmosphere of a fine mind, and -his scheme of values was different from the scheme of values recognised -by more ordinary men. Perfumes, colours, beautiful outlines had -spiritual and mystical meanings. He was not Pagan and not Christian, but -a blend of all that was best in both. - -To him this enchanted island had risen out of the sea, and floated, -dew-drenched, in the pure light of the dawn. He saw no reason why he -should bid so beautiful a thing sink back again and be lost under the -waters. He had no desecrating impulses. Why should not two people look -together at life with eyes that smiled and understood? They were harming -no one, and they were transfiguring each other. - -Canterton and his wife were dining alone, and for once he deliberately -chose to talk to her of his work, and of his future plans. Gertrude -would listen perfunctorily, but he was determined that she should -listen. The intimate part of his life did not concern her, simply -because she was no longer either in his personality or in his work. So -little sympathy was there between them that they had never succeeded in -rising to a serious quarrel. - -“I am taking Miss Carfax into the business. I thought you might like to -know.” - -So dead was her personal pride in all that was male in him, that she did -not remember to be jealous. - -“That ought to be a great opportunity for the girl.” - -“I shall benefit as much as she will. She has a very remarkable gift, -just something I felt the need of and could not find.” - -“Then she is quite a discovery?” - -Canterton watched his wife’s face and saw no clouding of its -complacency. - -“She will be a very great help in many ways.” - -“I see. You will make her a kind of fashion-plate artist to produce new -designs.” - -“Yes.” - -“I had thought of doing something for the girl. I had suggested to her -that she might paint miniatures.” - -“I think I shall keep her pretty busy.” - -“I have only spoken to her once or twice, and she struck me as rather -reserved, and stiff. I suppose she and Lynette——” - -“She and Lynette get on wonderfully.” - -“So Miss Vance told me. And, of course, that black frock——I hope she -doesn’t spoil the child.” - -“Not a bit. She does her good.” - -“Lynette wants someone with plenty of common sense to discipline her. I -think Miss Vance is really excellent.” - -“A very reliable young woman.” - -“She’s not too sentimental and emotional.” - -They had finished dessert, and Gertrude Canterton went straight to her -desk to write some of those innumerable letters that took up such a -large part of her life. Letter-writing was one of her methods of -self-expression, and her busy audacity was never to be repelled. She -wrote to an infinite number of charitable institutions for their -literature; to authors for autograph copies of their books to sell at -bazaars; to actors for their signatures and photographs; to cartoonists -for some sketch or other on which money might be raised for some -charitable purpose; to tradesmen for free goods, offering them her -patronage and a fine advertisement on some stall. - -Canterton did not wait for coffee, but lit a pipe and strolled out into -the garden, and walking up and down in a state of wonder, tried to make -himself realise that he and Gertrude were man and wife. - -Had the conversation really taken place? Had they exchanged those cold -commonplaces, those absurd phrases that should have meant so much? Had -he known Gertrude less well, he might have been touched by the -appearance of the limitless faith she had in him, by her blind and -serene confidence that was not capable of being disturbed. But he knew -her better than that. He was hardly so much as a shadow in her life, and -when a second shadow appeared beside hers she did not notice it. She -seemed to have no sense of possession, no sexual pride. Her mental poise -was like some people’s idea of heaven, a place of beautiful and -boundless indifference misnamed “sacred love,” a state that was guilty -of no preferences, no passions, no anguish, no divine despair. - -And then there leapt in him a sudden and subtle exultation. This -splendid comradeship that life was offering to him, what could be cried -against it, what was there that could be condemned? It touched no one -but their two selves, could hurt no one. The one woman who might have -complained was being robbed of nothing that she desired. As for -marriage, he had tried it, and saw that it served a certain need. For -five years he had lived the life of a celibate, and the god in him was -master of the beast. He thought no such thoughts of Eve. She was -sunlight, perfumes, the green gloom of the woods, water shining in the -moonlight, all the music that was and would be, all the fairy tales that -had been told, all the ardour of words spoken in faith. She was one -whose eyes could quench all the thirsts of his manhood. To be with her, -to be hers, was sufficient. - -Canterton was hardly conscious of the physical part of himself, as he -took a path along one of the cypress walks, passed out by a wicket gate, -and crossed the road into the fir woods. Dusk had fallen, but there was -still a faint grey light under the trees, and there was no undergrowth, -so that one would walk along the woodland aisles as along the aisles of -a church. A feeling of exultation possessed him. The very stillness of -the woods, the darkness that began to drown all distances, were personal -and all-enveloping. - -A light was shining in one of the lower windows of the little house at -Orchards Corner when Canterton came to the gate at the end of the lane. -He paused there, leaning his arms on the gate. The blind was up and the -curtain undrawn, and he could see Eve sitting at a table, and bending -over a book or writing a letter. - -Canterton crossed the lawn and stood looking in at the lighted window. -Eve was sitting at the table with her back towards him, and he saw the -outline of her head, and the glow of the light upon her hair. She was -wearing a blouse cut low at the throat, and he could see the white curve -of her neck as she bent over the table. There were books and papers -before her. She appeared to be reading and making notes. - -He spoke her name. - -“Eve!” - -Her profile came sharply against the lamplight. Then she pushed the -chair back, rose, and walked to the window. The lower sash was up. She -rested her hands on the sill. - -“Is it you?” - -The light was behind her, and her face vague and shadowy, but he had a -feeling that she was afraid. Her bare white forearms, with the hands -resting on the window-sill, looked hard and rigid. - -“Have I frightened you?” - -“Perhaps—a little.” - -“I wanted to talk to you.” - -She did not answer him for the moment. - -“I am all alone to-night.” - -“I thought you had the girl with you.” - -“I let her go down to the village.” - -He had come to her in a fog of mystical love, and through the haze of -his vision her set and human face became the one real thing in the -world. Her voice had a wounded sound, and she spoke as from a little -distance. There was resistance here, a bleak dread of something, and yet -a desire that what was inevitable should be understood. - -“You’ll forgive me?” - -“Perhaps.” - -“I felt I must talk to you.” - -“As you talked yesterday morning?” - -“Why not?” - -“I—I thought perhaps that you had understood.” - -His full consciousness of all that was in his heart would not suffer him -to feel such a thing as shame. But a great tenderness reached out to -her, because he had heard her utter a cry of pain. - -“Have I hurt you by coming here?” - -She stared beyond him, trying to think. - -“We were to live like good comrades, like fellow artists, were we not?” - -“I told you how the future offers us beautiful friendship.” - -She made a little impatient movement. - -“I knew it would be difficult while you were talking. And now you are -making it impossible.” - -“I cannot see it.” - -“You are blind—with a man’s blindness.” - -She leant her weight on her arms, and bending slightly towards him, -spoke with peculiar gentleness. - -“You look at the horizon, you miss the little things. Perhaps I am more -selfish and near-sighted, for your sake, if not for my own. Jim, don’t -make me say what is hateful even to be thought.” - -It was the first time that she had called him by the familiar name, the -name sacred to his lad’s days, and to the lips of his men friends. He -stood looking up at her, for she was a little above him. - -“I like that word—Jim. But am I blind?” - -“Hopelessly.” - -“Can it hurt either of us, this comradeship? Why, Eve, child, how can I -talk all the boyish stuff to you? It’s bigger, finer, less selfish than -all that. I believe I could think of you as I think of Lynette—married -some day to a good fellow——” - -She broke in with sudden passion. - -“No, you are wrong there—utterly wrong.” - -“Am I wrong—everywhere?” - -“Can’t you guess that it hurts terribly, all this? It’s so impossible, -and you won’t see it. Let’s get back—back to yesterday.” - -“Eve, is there ever a yesterday?” - -She shivered and drew back a little. - -“Jim, don’t try to come too near me. You make me say it. You make me say -the mean things.” - -“It’s not physical nearness.” - -“Ah, you may think that! But you are forgetting all the little people.” - -“The little people! Are we to be little because they are shorter than we -are? The neighbourhood knows me well enough.” - -She came forward again to the window with a kind of tender and stooping -pity. - -“Jim, how very innocent you are. Yes, I know—I know it is precious, and -perilous. Listen! Supposing you were to lose Lynette—oh, why will you -make me say the mean, hideous things?” - -“Lose Lynette! Do you mean——” - -“Jim, I am going to shut the window.” - -He raised an arm. - -“Wait! Good God!” - -“No, no! Good night!” - -She closed the window, and dragged the curtains across it. - -Canterton stood at gaze a moment, before walking away across the grass. - -Eve was listening, stricken, yet trying not to feel afraid. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - - LYNETTE INTERPOSES - - -At such a parting of the ways, Canterton’s elemental grimness showed -itself. He was the peasant, sturdy, obstinate, steady-eyed, ready to -push out into some untamed country, and to take and hold a new domain. -For under all his opulent culture and his rare knowledge lay the patient -yet fanatical soul of the peasant. He was both a mystic and a child of -the soil, not a city dweller, mercurial and flippant, a dog at the heels -of profit and loss. - -Eve had talked of the impossible, but when he took Lynette by the hand -and went down with her into the Wilderness, Canterton could not bring -himself to play the cynic. Sitting in the bracken, and watching Lynette -making one of her fairy fires, he felt that it was Eve’s scepticism that -was impossible, and not his belief in a magnanimous future. He was so -very sure of himself that he felt too sure of other people. His name was -not a thing to be made the sport of rumour. Men and women had worked -together before now; and did the world quarrel with a business man -because he kept a secretary or a typist? Moreover, he believed himself -to be different from the average business man, and what might have meant -lust for one spoke of a sacrament to the other. - -“Daddy, why didn’t Miss Eve come yesterday?” - -“She had work at home, Princess.” - -“And to-day too?” - -“It seems so.” - -“Why don’t we go and see her, then?” - -“Why not?” - -The mouth of the child had offered an inspiration. Was it possible to -look into Lynette’s eyes and be scared by sinister suggestions? Why, it -was a comradeship of three, not of two. They were three children -together, and perhaps the youngest was the wisest of the three. - -“Lynette, come here, old lady! Miss Eve thinks of going away.” - -“Miss Eve going away?” - -“Yes.” - -“Oh, no, daddy, how can she?” - -“Well, one has only to get into a train, even if it be a train of -thought.” - -Lynette was kneeling between her father’s knees. - -“I’ll ask her not to go.” - -“You might try it.” - -“Oh, yes, let’s! Let’s go down to Orchards Corner now—at once!” - -Eve had been suffering, suffering for Canterton, Lynette and herself. -She saw life so clearly now—the lights and shadows, the sunlit spaces, -the sinister glooms, the sharp, conventional horizons. Canterton did not -know how much of the woman there was in her, how very primitive and -strong were the emotions that had risen to the surface of her -consciousness. The compact would be too perilous. She knew in her heart -of hearts that the youth in her desired more than a spiritual dream, and -she was trying to harden herself, to build up barriers, to smother this -splendid thing, this fire of the gods. - -She had taken her work out into the garden, and was striving against a -sense of perfunctoriness and the conviction that the life at Fernhill -could not last. She had more than hinted at this to Canterton, bracing -herself against his arguments, and against all the generous -steadfastness of his homage that made the renunciation harder for her to -bear. - -And now an impetuous tenderness attacked her at white heat, a thing that -came with glowing hair and glowing mouth, and arms that clung. - -Lynette had run up the lane in front of Canterton, and Lynette was to -make Eve Carfax suffer. - -“Oh, Miss Eve, it isn’t true, is it?” - -“What isn’t true, dear heart?” - -“That you are going right away.” - -Eve felt a thickness at the throat. All that was best in life seemed -conspiring to tempt and to betray her. - -“I may have to go, dear.” - -“But why—why, when we love you so much? Aren’t you happy?” - -“When I am with you, yes. But there are all sorts of things that you -wouldn’t understand.” - -“Oh, but I could!” - -“Perhaps some day you will.” - -“But, Miss Eve, you won’t really go, will you?” - -Canterton came in at the white gate, and Eve’s eyes reproached him over -the glowing head of the child. “It is ungenerous of you,” they said, “to -let the child try and persuade me.” - -She hugged Lynette with sudden passion. - -“I don’t want to go, dear, but some big devil fairy is telling me I -shall have to.” - -She was shy of Canterton, and ready to hide behind the child, for there -was a grim purposefulness about his idealism that made her afraid. His -eyes hardly left her, and, though they held her sacred, they would have -betrayed everything to the most disinterested of observers. - -“I thought I would work at home on some of these sketches.” - -“And Lynette and I have been making a fire in the Wilderness. We missed -you.” - -Eve felt stifled. Lynette was looking up into her face, and she was -fingering the white lace collar round the child’s neck. She knew that -she must face Canterton. It was useless to try to shirk the challenge of -such a man. - -“Isn’t it close to-day? Lynette, dear, what about some raspberries? I’m -so thirsty.” - -“Where are they, Miss Eve? Aren’t they over?” - -“No, they are a late kind. You know, round behind the house. Ask Anne -for a dish.” - -“I’ll get a rhubarb leaf, and pick the biggest for you.” - -“Dear heart, we’ll share them.” - -Lynette ran off, and they were left alone together. Canterton had -brought up a deck chair, and was looking over some of Eve’s sketches -that lay in a portfolio on the grass. His silence tantalised her. It was -a force that had to be met and challenged. - -“I sent Lynette away because I wanted to speak to you.” - -He laid the sketch aside and sat waiting. - -“Why did you let her come to tempt me?” - -“Because I can see no real reason why you should go.” - -Her eyes became appealing. - -“Oh, how blind! And you let the child rush at me, let me feel her warm -arms round my neck. It was not fair to me, or to any of us.” - -“To me it did not seem unfair, because I do not think that I am such a -criminal.” - -“I know; you are so sure of yourself. But if you thought that the child -would persuade me, you were very much deceived. It has made me realise -more than anything else that I cannot go on with the life at Fernhill.” - -He bent forward in his chair. - -“Eve, I tell you from my heart that you are wrong. I want you to be -something of a mother to Lynette. I can give the man’s touches, but my -fingers are not delicate enough to bring out all the charm. Think, now.” - -She sat rigid, staring straight before her. - -“I have made up my mind.” - -“It is the privilege of wise minds to change, Eve. I want you as well as -Lynette.” - -“Don’t make me suffer. Do you think it is easy?” - -“Let me show you——” - -“No, no! If you try to persuade me, I shall refuse to listen.” - -And then silence fell on both of them, for Lynette returned with a large -rhubarb leaf holding a little mountain of red fruit. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - - EVE SPEAKS OUT - - -Eve felt very restless that evening, and with seeming illogicality went -up to her room at the old-time hour of nine. - -The day had been close and sultry, and the bedroom still felt hot after -the hours of scorching sunlight on the tiles. Eve drew the curtains -back, and opened the casement to its widest, for the upper windows were -still fitted with the old lead-lights. The sill was deep, nearly a foot -and a half broad, and Eve half lay and half leant upon it while the -night air streamed in. - -And what a night! All jet and silver; for the moon was up over the fir -woods, just as on the night when her mother died. The stillness was the -stillness of a dawn where no birds sing. The nightingale had long been -mute, and the nightjar preferred the oak woods in the clayland valleys. -Eve’s ears could not snatch a single sound out of that vast motionless -landscape, with its black woods and mysterious horizons. - -The silence made her feel lonely, eerily lonely, like a sensitive child -lost in a wood. She remembered how she had started awake at night -sometimes, terrified by this horror of loneliness, and crying out -“Mother, mother!” It was absurd that the grown woman should feel like -the child, and yet she found herself hungering for that little placid -figure with its boring commonplaces and amiable soft face. What a prig -she had been! She had let that spirit of superiority grow in her, -forgetting that the hands that were always knitting those foolish -woollen superfluities had held and comforted her as a child. Now, in the -white heat of an emotional ordeal, she missed the nearness of that -commonplace affection. What a mistake it was to be too clever; for when -the heart ached, one’s cleverness stood by like a dreary pedagogue, -helpless and dumb. - -The stillness! She wished those dim stars would send down astral rain, -and patter on this roof of silence. The sound of dripping water would be -welcome. Yes, and those Latimer fountains, were they still murmuring -under the cypresses, or did not the spirit of sage economy turn off the -water-cocks and shut down the sluices? Life! It, too, was so often a -shutting down of sluices. The deep waters had to be tamed, dammed back, -kept from pouring forth as they desired. Modern conventional life was -like a canal with its system of locks. There were no rapids, no -freshets, no impetuous cataracts. You went up, steadily, respectably, -lock by lock; you came down steadily, and perhaps just as respectably. -In between was the gliding monotony of the long stretches between -artificial banks, with either a religious tow-rope or a puffing -philosopher to draw you. - -She suffered on account of the stillness and this atmosphere of -isolation, and yet the nearness of some very human incident was as a -stabbing pain compared to a dull ache. Leaning there over the -window-sill, with the moonlight glimmering on the lozenged glass in the -lattices, she knew that she was looking towards Fernhill and all that it -represented. Lynette, the child; the great gardens, that wide, free -spacious, colour-filled life; Canterton’s comradeship, and even more -than that. The whole future quivered on one sensitive thread. A breeze -could shake it away as a wind shakes a dewdrop from the web of a spider. - -She told herself that Canterton must have realised by now the impossible -nature of the position he was asking her to assume. If he only would go -back to the yesterday of a month ago, and let that happy, workaday life -return! But then, would she herself be content with that? She had sipped -the wine of Tristan and Isoult, and the magic of it was in her blood. - -Her thoughts had come to this point, when something startled her. She -had heard the latch of the gate click. There was a man’s figure standing -in the shade of a holly that grew close to the fence. - -Eve was not conscious of any fear, only of an intense curiosity—a -desire to know whether she was on the brink of some half foreseen -crisis. It might be a tramp, it might be the man who came courting her -girl Anne; but Anne had gone to bed with a headache an hour before Eve -had come to her own room. - -In spite of these other possibilities, she felt prophetically convinced -that it was Canterton. She did not move away from the window, knowing -that the man, whoever he was, must have seen the outline of her head and -shoulders against the light within. Her heart was beating faster. She -could feel it as she leant with her bosom pressing upon the window-sill. - -She knew Canterton the moment he moved out into the moonlight, and, -crossing the grass, came and stood under her window. He was bareheaded, -and his face, as he looked up at her, gave her an impression of pallid -and passionate obstinacy. - -“I had to come!” - -She felt a flutter of exultation, but it was the exultation of tragedy. - -“Madman!” - -“No, I am not mad. It is the sanest moment of my life.” - -“Then all the rest of the world is mad. Supposing—supposing the girl is -still awake. Supposing——Oh, there are a hundred such suppositions! You -risk them, and make me risk them.” - -“Because I am so sure of myself. I take the risk to promise you a homage -that shall be inviolate. Am I a fool? Do you think that I have no -self-control—that I shall ever cause this most spiritual thing to be -betrayed? I tell you I can live this life. I can make it possible for -you to live it.” - -Eve raised herself on her elbows, and seemed to be listening. There was -the same stillness everywhere, the stillness that had been broken by -Canterton’s voice. - -She leant out and spoke to him in an undertone. - -“I will come down. I suppose I must let you say all that you have to -say.” - -She put out the light and felt her way out of the room and down the -stairs into the hall. Her brain felt as clear as the sky out yonder, -though the turmoil in her heart might have been part of the darkness -through which she passed. Unlocking and unbolting the door, she found -Canterton waiting. - -“You are making me do this mad thing.” - -She had not troubled to put on a hat, and her face was white and clear -and unhidden. Its air of desperate and purposeful frankness struck him. -Her eyes looked straight at his, steadily and unflinchingly, with no -subtle glances, no cunning of the lids. - -“Let’s go down to the woods. Come!” - -She spoke as though she had taken command of the crisis, snatched it out -of his strong hands. And Canterton obeyed her. They went down the lane -in the high shadow of the hedgerows and across the main road into the -fir woods, neither of them uttering a word. - -Eve paused when they had gone some two hundred yards into the woods. The -canopy of boughs was a black vaulting, with here and there a crevice -where the moonlight entered to fall in streaks and splashes upon the -tree trunks and the ground. On every side were the crowding fir boles -that blotted out the distance and obscured each other. The woodland -floor was covered deep with pine needles, and from somewhere came the -smell of bracken. - -“Now, let me hear everything.” - -He appeared a little in awe of her, and for the moment she was the -stronger. - -“I have told you all that there is to tell. I want you to be the bigger -part of my life—the inward life that not another soul knows.” - -“Not even Lynette?” - -“She is but a child.” - -Eve began to walk to and fro, and Canterton kept pace with her. - -“Let’s be practical. Let’s be cold, and sure of things. You want me to -be a spiritual wife to you, and a spiritual mother to Lynette?” - -“Yes.” - -“And you think you can live such a life?” - -“I know I can.” - -She was smiling, the strange, ironical, half-exultant smile of a love -that is not blind. - -“You are sure of yourself. Let me ask you a question. Are you sure of -me?” - -He looked at her searchingly in the dim light. - -“Eve, I am not vain enough to ask you whether——” - -“Whether I care?” - -“You have said it.” - -She paused, gazing at the ground. - -“Is a man so much slower than a woman?” - -“Sometimes one does not dare to think——” - -“But the woman knows without daring.” - -He stood silently before her, full of that devout wonder that had made -him such a watcher in Nature’s world. - -“Then, surely, child——” - -Her face and eyes flashed up to him, and her hands quivered. - -“Don’t call me child! Haven’t you realised that I am a woman?” - -“The one woman.” - -“There, it is all so impossible! And you don’t understand.” - -He spoke gently, almost humbly. - -“Why is it impossible? What is it that I don’t understand?” - -“Oh, dear man, must I show you everything? This is why it is -impossible.” - -Her arms went out and were round his neck. Her mouth was close to his. -In the taking of a breath she had kissed him, and he had returned the -kiss, and his arms were round her. - -“Jim, don’t you understand now? I care too much. That is why it is -impossible.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - - AN HOUR IN THE FIR WOODS - - -The warm scent of the fir woods was about them, and a darkness that made -their very thoughts seem secret and secure. They were the lovers of some -ancient tale wandering in an old forest of enchantments, seeing each -other’s faces pale and yearning in the dim light under the trees. - -Eve rested against Canterton’s outspread arm, her head upon his -shoulder, as they wandered to and fro between the tall trunks of the -firs. They were like ghosts gliding side by side, for the carpet of pine -needles deadened the sound of their footsteps, and they spoke but -little, in voices that were but murmurs. - -For a brief hour they were forgetting life and its problems, letting -self sink into self, surrendering everything to an intimate exultation -in their nearness to each other. Sometimes they would pause, swayed by -some common impulse, and stand close together, looking into each other’s -eyes. - -They spoke to each other as a man and woman speak but once or twice in -the course of a lifetime. - -“Dear heart, is it possible that this is you?” - -“Am I not flesh and blood?” - -“That you should care!” - -“Put your hand here. Can you not feel my heart beating?” - -He would slip his hand under her head, draw her face to his, and kiss -her forehead, mouth and eyes. And she would sigh with each kiss, closing -her eyes in a kind of ecstasy. - -“Did you ever dream of me?” - -“Often.” - -“It sounds like a child’s question. Strange—I wonder if our dreams -crossed. Did you ever dream while I was at Latimer?” - -“Nearly every night.” - -“And I of you. And all through the day you were with me. I felt you -standing beside me. That’s why I painted Latimer as I did.” - -Canterton had moments of incredulity and of awe. He would stand -motionless, holding Eve’s hands, and looking down into her face. - -“It is very wonderful—very wonderful!” - -His man’s awe made her smile. - -“What a boy you are!” - -“Am I?” - -“I love you like that. And yet, really, you are so strong and masterful. -And I could trust you utterly, only——” - -“Only?” - -“You, and not myself. Oh, if we could never wake again!” - -A plaintive note came into her voice. She was beginning to think and to -remember. - -“Eve!” - -“Ah, that name!” - -“Is it so impossible now?” - -She reached up and gripped his wrist. - -“Don’t spoil this! Oh, don’t spoil it! It will have to last us both for -a lifetime. Take me back, dear; it is time.” - -He felt a relaxing of her muscles as though she had suddenly grown faint -and hesitating. - -“Not yet.” - -“Yes, now. I ask it of you, Jim.” - -They began to wander back towards the road, and sometimes a shaft of -moonlight struck across their faces. Their exultation weakened, the -wings of their flight together were fluttering back towards the ground. - -“Eve, to-morrow——” - -She turned her face to his and spoke with a whispering vehemence. - -“There can be no to-morrow.” - -“But, dear heart!” - -“I could not bear it. Have pity on me, Jim. And remember——” - -They saw the white road glimmering beyond the black fir trunks. Eve -paused. They stood for some moments in silence. - -“Say good-bye to me here.” - -“I will say good night.” - -“Oh, my dearest—my dear!” - -He held her very close, and she felt the strength of his great arms. The -breath seemed to go out of her body, her eyes were closed. - -“Now, let me go.” - -He released her, and she stepped back just a little unsteadily, but -trying to smile. - -“Good-bye! Go back now.” - -She turned, went out of the wood, and crossed the moonlit road. It lay -between them like some dim river of the underworld. And Canterton was -left standing in the gloom of the fir woods. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - - NIGHT AND A CHILD - - -Eve relocked the door of the cottage, and stood in the darkness of the -hall, trying to realise all that had happened. - -It was like coming back out of a dream, save that the dream remained as -a compelling and fateful reality, a power, a parting of the ways, a -voice that cried “Explicit!” Her clarity of vision returned as she stood -there in the darkness. There was only one thing to be done, whatever -anguish the doing of it might cause her. - -Yet for the moment she shrank from this renunciation, this surrender of -the things that made life desirable, this going forth into a world of -little poverties, little struggles, little sordid anxieties. It was -hard, very hard to leave this spacious existence, this corner of the -earth where beauty counted, and where she had been so happy in her work. -Why had he made it so hard for her? And yet, though she was in pain, her -heart could not utter any accusation against him. He had misunderstood -her, and she had had to ruin everything by showing him the truth. - -This part of her life was ended, done with; and Eve repeated the words -to herself as she felt her way up the stairs and into her room. She lit -the candle and stood looking about her. How cold and small and -matter-of-fact the place seemed. The whole atmosphere had changed, and -the room no longer felt like hers. The bedclothes were neatly turned -back, but she knew that she would never sleep in that bed again. It was -absurd—the very idea of sleep, when to-morrow—— - -She sat on the bed awhile, thinking, forcing herself to make those plans -that shape themselves like hot metal poured into a mould. A hunger for -physical activity seized her. She might falter or break down if she did -too much thinking. Feeling under the bed, she dragged out a light -leather valise, and opening it began to tumble out a collection of -tissue paper, odd pieces of dress material, ribbons and scraps of lace. -The very first thing she saw when she went to open the hanging cupboard -was the big straw sun-hat she had worn at Latimer and Fernhill. That -inanimate thing, hanging there, sent a shock of pain through her. She -felt things as a sensitive child feels them, and sorrow was more than a -mere vague regret. - -Presently the valise was packed, and her more personal trifles collected -into a handbag. She began to open all the drawers and cupboards, to sort -her clothes and lay them on the bed. Once or twice she went downstairs -to fetch books or something she specially needed, pausing outside the -maid’s door to listen, but the girl was fast asleep. Eve sorted out all -her Fernhill and Latimer studies, tied them up in brown paper, and -addressed them to Canterton. Her portfolios, paint boxes, and a few odd -canvases she packed into a stout parcel, labelled them, and carried them -up to her room. - -Then, as to money. Eve kept it locked in a little drawer in a cabinet -that stood in a corner of her bedroom, and though she went to count it, -she knew what was there, almost to the last penny. Seventeen pounds, -thirteen shillings and ninepence. There were a pass and cheque-book -also, for she had a hundred pounds in a bank at Reading, Canterton -having paid her the first instalment of her salary. Eve felt loath to -consent to thinking of the money as her own. Perhaps she would return it -to him, or keep it untouched, a sentimental legacy left her by this -memorable summer. - -It was one in the morning when she lit a fresh candle and went down into -the dining-room to write letters. The first was to a local house-agent -and auctioneer, stating that she was leaving Basingford unexpectedly, -and that the maid would deposit the keys of Orchards Corner at his -office, and desiring him to arrange for a sale of all her furniture. The -next letter was to Anne, the maid. Eve enclosed a month’s wages and an -odd sum for current expenses, and asked her to pack two trunks and have -them taken to the station and sent to the luggage office at Waterloo. -Eve drew out a list of the things that were to be packed. Everything -else was to be disposed of at the sale. - -Then came the letter to James Canterton. - - “I am taking the only course that seems open to me, and believe - me when I say that it is best for us both. - - “I am leaving you the Latimer pictures, and all the studies I - made at Fernhill. You will find them here, on the table, wrapped - up and addressed to you. - - “I am giving Mr. Hanstead orders to sell all the furniture. - - “It is probable that I shall try to make some sort of career for - myself in London. - - “Perhaps I will write to you, when my new life is settled. Don’t - try to see me. I ask you, from my heart, not to do that. - - “Kiss Lynette, and make her think the best you can. - - “I am sealing this and leaving it here for you with the - pictures. - - “EVE.” - -A great restlessness came upon her when she had completed all these -preparations, and she felt a desire to rush out and end the last -decisive phase of her life at Fernhill. She hunted up a local -time-table, and found that the first train left Basingford at half-past -six in the morning. The earliness of the hour pleased her. The valise -and bag were not very heavy, and she could walk the two miles to the -station before the Basingford people were stirring. - -Then a new fear came upon her, the fear that Canterton might still be -near, or that he would return. A book that she picked up could not hold -her attention, and the old bent cane rocking-chair that she had used so -often when she was feeling like a grown child, made her still more -restless. She went over the house, reconsidering everything, the clothes -laid out on the bed, the furniture she was to leave, and whether it -would be worth her while to warehouse the rather ancient walnut-cased -piano, with its fretwork and magenta-coloured satin front. She wrote -labels, even started an inventory, but abandoned it as soon as she -entered her mother’s room. - -The watch on her dressing-table told her that it was five-and-twenty -minutes to four. Dawn would be with her before long, and the thought of -the dawn made the little house seem dead and oppressive. She put on a -pair of stout shoes, and, letting herself out into the garden, made her -way to the orchard at the back of the house. - -It had grown very dark before the dawn, and the crooked apple trees were -black outlines against an obscure sky. They made her think of bent, -decrepit, sad old men. The grass had been scythed a month ago, and the -young growth was wet with dew. Everything was deathly still. Not a leaf -moved on the trees. It was like a world of the dead. - -She walked up and down for a long while before a vague greyness began to -spread along the eastern horizon. A bird twittered. The foliage of the -trees changed from black to an intense greyish blue. The fruit became -visible—touches of gold, and maroon, and green. Eve could see the dew -on the grass, the rust colour of the tiles on the roof, the white frames -of the windows. A rabbit bolted across the orchard, and disappeared -through the farther hedge. - -She stood watching, wondering, and her wonder went out to the man who -had caused her to suffer this pain. How had the night gone with him? -What was he doing? Had he slept? Was he suffering? And then the first -flush of rose came into the pearl grey east. Great rays of light -followed, diverging, making the clouds a chaos of purple and white. -Presently Eve saw the sun appear, a glare of gold above the fir woods. - -She returned to the house, put on her hat and coat, made sure that she -had her watch and purse, and carried her bag and her valise downstairs. -She would leave Orchards Corner at half-past five, and there was time -for a meal before she went. The girl had left dry wood ready on the -kitchen stove. Eve boiled the kettle, made tea, and ate her breakfast at -the kitchen table, listening all the while for any sound of the girl -moving overhead. But the silence of the night still held. No one was to -see her leave Orchards Corner. - -Eve had wondered whether James Canterton was suffering. It is not given -to many of us to feel acutely, or to travel beyond the shallows of an -emotional self-pity, but Canterton had much of the spirit of the -Elizabethans—men built for a big, adventurous, passionate play. He had -slept no more than Eve had done, and had spent most of the night walking -in the woods and lanes and over the wastes of heather and furze. He, -too, was trying to realise that this experience was at an end, that a -burning truth had been shown him—that they had flown too near the sun, -and the heat had scorched their wings. - -Yet his mood was one of rebellion. He was asking why and wherefore, -thrusting that masterful creativeness of his against the conventional -barriers that the woman had refused to challenge. For the first time his -vitality was running in complete and tumultuous opposition to the -conventional currents that had hardly been noticed by him till his will -was defied. The scorn of theory was upon him, and he felt the strong -man’s desire to brush the seeming artificiality aside. Had he not made -self-restraint his own law, and was he to herd with men who put their -signatures openly to the sexual compact, and broke their vows in secret? - -Eve was afraid, not only for herself, but for him and for Lynette. But, -good God! had he ever intended to force her to sacrifice herself, to -defy society, or to enter into a conspiracy of passion? Was it -everything or nothing with such a woman? If so, she had shown a touching -magnanimity and wisdom, and uttered a cry that was heroic. But he could -not believe it; her pleading that this love of theirs was mad and -impossible. It was too pathetic, her confessing that she could not trust -herself. He was strong enough to be trusted for them both. The night had -made everything more sacred. He would refuse to let her sacrifice their -comradeship. - -Canterton, too, saw the dawn come up, and the sun appear as a great -splash of gold. He was standing on the south-east edge of the -Wilderness, with the gloom of the larch wood behind him, and as the sun -rose, its level rays struck on the stream in the valley, and the deep -pool among the willows where the water lay as black and as still as -glass. - -A clear head and a clean body. The whim that seized him had logic and -symbolism. He walked down over the wet grass to the pool among the -willows, where a punt lay moored to a landing stage, and a diving board -projected over the water. Canterton stripped and plunged, and went -lashing round and round the pool, feeling a clean vigour in his body, as -his heart and blood answered the cold sting of the water. - -It was half-past six when he made his way back up the hill to the -gardens. A glorious day had come, and the dew still sparkled on the -flowers. Wandering across the lawns he saw an auburn head at an open -window, and a small hand waving a towel. - -“Daddy, I’m coming—I’m coming!” - -He looked up at her like a man who had been praying, and whose eyes saw -a sign in the heavens. - -“Hallo! Up with the lark!” - -“Let’s go down to the Wilderness.” - -“Come along, Queen Mab.” - -“I’ve only got to put my frock on.” - -“You’re just the very thing I want.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - - THE WOMAN’S EYES IN THE EYES OF A CHILD - - -Lynette asked her father to tell her a story. They were walking through -the wet bracken on the edge of the larch wood, Canterton holding the -child’s hand. - -“Presently, little Beech Leaf. A good fairy is talking to me, and I must -listen.” - -“Then I’ll keep ever so quiet till she’s done.” - -Canterton had looked into the eyes of the child, and had seen the -woman’s eyes, Eve’s eyes, in the child’s. For Eve’s eyes had been like -the eyes of Lynette, till he, the man, had awakened a more primitive -knowledge in them. He remembered how it had been said that the child is -a finer, purer creation than either the man or the woman, and that the -sex spirit is a sullying influence, blurring the more delicate colours; -and Eve had had much of the child in her till he, in all innocence, had -taught her to suffer. - -A great pity overtook him as he looked down at Lynette, and wondered how -he would feel if some blind idealist were ever to make her suffer. His -pity showed him what love had failed to discover. He understood of a -sudden how blind, how obstinate, and over-confident he must have seemed -to Eve. He had killed all the child in her, and aroused the woman, and -then refused to see that she had changed. - -“I have been torturing her.” - -His compassion was touched with shame. - -“You are making it so impossible.” - -That cry of hers had a new pathos. It was she who had suffered, because -she had seen things clearly, while he had been too masterful, too sure -of himself, too oblivious of her youth. One could not put the language -of Summer into the mouth of Spring. It was but part of the miracle of -growth that he had been studying all these years. Certain and inevitable -changes had to occur when the sun climbed higher and the sap rose. - -Canterton paused while they were in the thick of the larch wood. - -“Lynette, old lady!” - -“Yes, daddy?” - -“The fairy has just said that we ought to go and see Miss Eve.” - -“What a sensible fairy. Yes, do let’s go. She may let me see her do her -hair.” - -Canterton smiled. He meant to carry Lynette on his shoulders into the -garden of Orchards Corner, to hold her up as a symbol and a sign, to -betray in the child his surrender. Assuredly it was possible for them to -be healed. He would say, “Let’s go back into yesterday. Try and forgive -me for being blind. We will be big children together, you and I, with -Lynette.” - -Some warning voice seemed to speak to him as they entered the lane, -questioning this plan of his, throwing out a vague hint of unexpected -happenings. He heard Eve saying good-bye over yonder among the fir -trees. She had refused to say good night. - -He set Lynette down under the hedge, and spoke in a whisper. - -“We’ll play at hide and seek. I’ll go on and see if I can find her.” - -“Yes. I’ll hide, and jump out when you bring her into the lane, daddy.” - -“That’s it.” - -He wondered what sort of night Eve had spent, and his eyes were -instinctively towards her window as he walked up the path to the house. -His ring was answered almost immediately. The little, bunchy-figured -maid stood there, looking sulky and bewildered. - -“Is Miss Carfax in?” - -The girl’s eyes stared. - -“No, she ain’t. She’s gone to London, and ain’t coming back.” - -“When did she go?” - -“Must have been this morning before I was up. She’d ’ad ’er breakfast, -and written me a letter. She’s left everything to me, and I don’t know -which way to turn. There’s luggage to be packed and sent off to London, -and the house to be cleaned, and the keys to be taken to Mr. Hanstead’s. -I’m fair bothered, sir. I ain’t going to sleep ’ere alone, and my ’ome’s -at Croydon. Maybe my young man’s mother will take me in.” - -“If not some of my people can.” - -“Miss Carfax left a letter for you, sir.” - -“Let me have it.” - -The girl went into the dining-room, and Canterton followed her. The -letter was lying on the parcel that contained the Latimer and Fernhill -pictures. He went to the window, broke the seal, and read Eve’s letter. - -The girl watched him, and he was conscious of her inquisitive eyes. But -his face betrayed nothing, and he acted as though there were nothing -wonderful about this sudden flight. - -“Miss Carfax did not tell you that she was expecting the offer of work -in London?” - -“No, sir.” - -“I see. She has been sent for rather hurriedly. A very fine situation I -believe. You had better follow out her orders. This parcel is for me.” - -He took it under his arm, went to the front door, and called Lynette. - -“No hide and seek this morning.” - -He wanted the girl to see Lynette, but he did not want Lynette to hear -the news. - -“Isn’t she in?” - -Canterton met her as she came up the path. - -“Not at home, Princess, and Anne’s as busy as can be, and I’ve got this -parcel to carry back.” - -“What’s in it, daddy?” - -“Pictures.” - -And he felt that he carried all the past in those pictures. - -Lynette wondered why he walked so fast, and why his face looked so quiet -and funny. She had to bustle her slim legs to keep up with him, and he -had nothing whatever to say. - -“What a hurry you’re in, daddy.” - -“I have just remembered I’ve got to go down to the village before -breakfast. And, by George! here’s something I have forgotten to give to -Lavender. Will you take it, old lady, while I go down to the village?” - -“Yes, daddy.” - -He gave her an envelope he had in his pocket. It contained nothing but -some seeds he had taken from a plant a few days ago, but the ruse -served. - -Canterton left the parcel of pictures at one of the lodges. It took him -just twenty minutes to reach Basingford station, for he had to walk -through the village after taking some of the field paths at a run. A -solitary milk cart stood in the station yard, and a clattering of cans -came from the up platform. Canterton entered the booking office, glanced -into the waiting-room, and strolled through to the up platform. There -was no Eve. The place was deserted, save for a porter and the driver of -the milk cart, who were loading empty cans on to a truck. - -Canterton remembered that he had a freight bill in his pocket, and that -he owed the railway company three pounds and some odd silver. He called -the porter. - -“Gates!” - -The man came at once, touching his cap. - -“Is the goods office open?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“I have a bill I owe them. Anyone there to take the money?” - -“They’ll be ready for that, Mr. Canterton.” - -“Oh, by the way, Gates, did Miss Carfax catch her train all right? I -mean the early one?” - -“The lady from Orchards Corner, sir?” - -“Yes. You know Miss Carfax.” - -“To be sure. She was earlier than me, sir, and down here before I got -the booking office swept out.” - -“That’s good. I’m glad she caught it. Good morning, Gates.” - -“Good morning, sir.” - -As Canterton walked across to the goods office, he found himself -confessing to a bitter and helpless sense of defeat. He had made this -woman suffer, and it seemed out of his power now even to humble himself -before her. She had fled out of his life, and appealed to him not to -follow her—not to try and see her. It was better for them both, she had -said, to try and forget, but he knew in his heart of hearts that it -would never be forgotten. - - - - - PART II - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - - BOSNIA ROAD - - -It is a suggestive thought that the characteristic effects of our -execrable climate have nowhere shown themselves more forcibly than in -the atmosphere of the London suburbs. That these suburbs are in some -subtle respects the results of our melancholy grey skies no one can -doubt. Even the raw red terraces scattered among the dingier and more -chastened rows of depressed houses, betray a futile and rather -boisterous attempt to introduce a butcher-boy cheerfulness into a world -of smuts and rain. The older, sadder houses have taken the tint of their -surroundings. They have been poised all these years between the moil and -fog of the city, and a countryside that was never theirs, a countryside -that is often pictured as wrapped in eternal June, but which for nine -months out of the twelve knows grey gloom, mud, and rain. - -Their activities alone must have given the modern English such -cheerfulness as they possess, while the climate has made them a nation -of grumblers. Perhaps the Industrial Revolution saved us from our -weather. - -Coal and power came and gave us something to do. For what has been the -history of England, but the watering of the blood of those who came to -dwell in her. It is not necessary to thank the Roman rule for the -decadence of the Britons, when their Saxon conquerors in turn sank into -sodden, boorish ignorance. The Normans brought red blood and wine to the -grey island, but by the fifteenth century the blend had become coarse, -cruel, and poor. With the Elizabethans, half the world rushed into new -adventure and romance, and England revived. But once again the grey -island damped down the ardour, the enthusiasms and the energies of the -people. During the first half of the eighteenth century, the population -was stagnant, the country poor, coarse and apathetic. Then King Coal -arose, and lit a fire for us, and a few great men were born. We found -big things to do, and were renewed, in spite of our climate. Yet the -question suggests itself, will these subtle atmospheric influences -reassert themselves and damp us down once more in the centuries that are -to come? - -Eve Carfax had elected to live in a London suburb, and had chosen -Highbury, perhaps because of childish recollections of pleasant half -holidays spent there with a friend of her mother’s, afternoons when -muffins and fancy cakes had made bread and butter superfluous, and a -jolly old lady had discovered occasional half-crowns in her purse. Eve -had taken two rooms in a little red house in Bosnia Road. Why it should -have been called Bosnia Road she could not imagine. Each house had a -front door with stained glass and a brass letter box, a tiny strip of -front garden faced with a low brick wall topped by an iron railing, an -iron gate, and a red tiled path. All the houses looked exactly alike. -Most of them had a big china bowl or fern pot on a table or pedestal in -the window of the ground floor room. There was no originality either in -the texture or the draping of the curtains. None of the houses in Bosnia -Road had any of that sense of humour possessed by the houses in a -village street. There were no jocular leerings, no rollicking leanings -up against a neighbour, no expressive and whimsical faces. They were all -decently alike, respectably uniform, staring at each other across the -road, and never moved to laughter by the absurd discovery that the -architect had unconsciously perpetrated a cynical lampoon upon the -suburban middle classes. - -When one is fighting for the bare necessities of life, one is not -conscious of monotony. For Eve, as an adventuress, it had been a -question of gaining a foothold and a grip on a ledge with her fingers, -and her energies had been concentrated on hanging to the vantage she had -gained. She had had good luck, and the good luck had been due to Kate -Duveen. - -Kate Duveen was an old friend, and Eve had hunted her out in her -Bloomsbury lodgings on the third day of her coming to London. They had -been at school together before the Carfaxes had taken a cottage in -Surrey. Kate Duveen was a brown, lean, straight-backed young woman, with -rather marked eyebrows, firm lips, and shrewd eyes. She was a worker, -had always been a worker, and though more than one man had wanted to -marry her, she had no desire either for marriage or for children. She -was a comrade rather than a woman. There was no colour either in her -face or in her dress, and her one beauty was her hair. She had a -decisive, unsentimental way with her, read a great deal, attended, when -possible, every lecture given by Bernard Shaw, and managed to earn about -two hundred pounds a year. - -It was Kate Duveen who had introduced Eve into Miss Champion’s -establishment. - -Miss Champion’s profession was somewhat peculiar, though not unique. Her -offices were in a turning off Oxford Street, and were situated on the -first floor. She was a kind of universal provider, in the sense that she -supplied by means of her female staff, the various needs of a cultured -and busy public. She equipped men of affairs and politicians with -secretaries and expert typists. There were young women who could -undertake mechanical drawing or architects’ plans, illustrate books, -copy old maps and drawings, undertake research work in the British -Museum, design fashion plates, supervise entertainments, act as mistress -of the revels at hydros and hotels. Miss Champion had made a success of -the venture, partly because she was an excellent business woman, and -partly because of her personality. Snow-white hair, a fresh face, a fine -figure. These points had helped. She was very debonair, yet very -British, and mingled an aristocratic scent of lavender with a suggestion -of lawn sleeves. Her offices had no commercial smell. Her patrons were -mostly dilettanti people with good incomes, and a particular hobby, -authorship, public affairs, china, charities. Miss Champion had some -imagination, and the wisdom of a “Foresight.” Good form was held sacred. -She was very particular as to that old-fashioned word “deportment.” Her -gentlewomen had to be gentlewomen, calm, discreet, unemotional, neat -looking lay figures, with good brains and clever hands. - -Kate Duveen had introduced Eve to Miss Champion, and Miss Champion -happened to have a vacancy that Eve could fill. A patron was writing a -book on mediæval hunting, and wanted old pictures and woodcuts copied. -Another patron was busy with a colour-book called “Ideal Gardens,” and -was asking for fancy plates with plenty of atmosphere. There was some -hack research work going begging, and designs for magazine covers to be -submitted to one or two art editors, and Eve was lucky enough to find -herself earning her living before she had been two weeks in town. - -The day’s routine did not vary greatly. She breakfasted at a quarter to -eight, and if the weather was fine she walked a part or even the whole -of the way to Miss Champion’s, following Upper Street and Pentonville -Road, and so through Bloomsbury, where she picked up Kate Duveen. If it -was wet she trammed, but she detested the crush for a seat, being a -sensitive individualist with a hatred of crowds, however small. Some -days she spent most of her time in the Museum reading-room, making notes -and drawings which she elaborated afterwards at her desk at Miss -Champion’s. If she had nothing but illustrating to do or plates to paint -she spent all the day at the office. They were given an hour for lunch, -and Eve and Kate Duveen lunched together, getting some variety by -patronising Lyons, the Aerated Bread Company, and the Express Dairy in -turn. After these very light lunches, and much more solid conversations, -came four or five hours more work, with half an hour’s interval for tea. -Eve reached Bosnia Road about half past six, often glad to walk the -whole way back after the long sedentary hours. At seven she had meat -tea, the meat being represented by an egg, or three sardines, or two -slices of the very smallest tongue that was sold. Her landlady was -genteel, florid, and affable, with that honeyed affability that is one -of the surest signs of the humbug. She was a widow, and the possessor of -a small pension. Her one child, a gawk of a youth, who was an -under-clerk somewhere in the City, had nothing to recommend him. He was -a ripening “nut,” and advertised the fact by wearing an enormous collar, -a green plush Homburg hat, a grey suit, and brown boots on the Sabbath. -Some time ago he had bought a banjo, but when Eve came to Bosnia Road, -his vamping was as discordant and stuttering as it could be. He had a -voice, and a conviction that he was a comedian, and he could be heard -exclaiming, “Put me among the Girls,” a song that always moved Eve to an -angry disgust. Now and again he met her on the stairs, but any egregious -oglings on his part were blighted before they were born. - -“She’s a suffragette! I know ’em.” - -That was what he said to his mother. Had he been put among such girls, -his little, vain Georgy Porgy of a soul would have been mute and awed. - -Eve’s evenings were very lonely. Sometimes Kate Duveen came up from -Bloomsbury, but she was a busy woman, and worked and read most nights. -If it was fine, Eve went out and walked, wandering round outside -Highbury Fields, or down the quiet Canonbury streets, or along Upper -Street or Holloway Road. It was very dismal, and these walks made her -feel even more lonely than the evenings spent in her room. It seemed -such a drifting, solitary existence. Who cared? To whom did it matter -whether she went out or stayed at home? As for her sitting-room, she -could not get used to the cheap red plush suite, the sentimental -pictures, the green and yellow carpet, the disastrous ornaments, the -pink and green tiles in the grate. Her own workaday belongings made it a -little more habitable, but she felt like Iolanthe in a retired licensed -victualler’s parlour. - -The nights when Kate Duveen came up from Bloomsbury were full of -intelligent relief. They talked, argued, compared ambitions and ideals, -and trusted each other with intimate confessions. Several weeks passed -before Eve gave Kate Duveen some account of that summer at Fernhill, and -Kate Duveen looked stiff and hard over it, and showed Canterton no -mercy. - -“It always seems to be a married man!” - -Eve was up in arms on the other side. - -“He was different.” - -“Oh, yes, I know!” - -“Kate, I hate you when you talk like this.” - -“Hate me as much as you like, my dear, you will see with my eyes some -day. I have no patience with men.” - -Eve softened her passionate partisanship, and tried to make her friend -understand. - -“Till one has gone through it one does not know what it means. After -all, we can’t stamp out Nature, and all that is beautiful in Nature. I, -for one, don’t want to. It may have made me suffer. It was worth it, -just to be loved by that child.” - -“Children are not much better than little savages. Don’t dream -sentimental dreams about children. I remember what a little beast I -was.” - -“There will always be some part of me that you won’t understand, Kate.” - -“Perhaps. I’ve no patience with men—selfish, sexual fools. Let’s talk -about work.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - - LIFE AND LETTERS - - -Saturday afternoons and Sundays gave the pause in Eve’s week of -scribbling and reading, and drawing at desk and table. She was -infinitely glad of the leisure when it came, only to discover that it -often brought a retrospective sadness that could not be conjured away. - -Sometimes she went to a matinée or a concert on Saturday afternoon, -alternating these breaks with afternoons of hard work. For the Fernhill -days, with their subsequent pain and restlessness had left her with a -definite ambition. She regarded her present life as a means to an end. -She did not intend to be always a scribbler of extracts and a copier of -old woodcuts, but had visions of her own art spreading its wings and -lifting her out of the crowd. She tried to paint on Sundays, struggling -with the atmosphere of Bosnia Road, and attempting to make use of the -north light in her back bedroom, while she enlarged and elaborated some -of the rough sketches in her sketch book. Her surroundings were trite -and dreary enough, but youth and ardour are marvellous torch-bearers, -and many a fine thing has been conceived and carried through in a London -lodging-house. She had plans for hiring a little studio somewhere, or -even of persuading Mrs. Buss, her landlady, to let her have a makeshift -shed put up in the useless patch of back garden. - -When she looked back on the Fernhill days, they seemed to her very -strange and wonderful, covered with a bloom of mystery, touched with -miraculous sunlight. She hoped that they would help her to do big work. -The memories were in her blood, she was the richer for them, even though -she had suffered and still suffered. Now that she was in London the -summer seemed more beautiful than it had been, nor did she remind -herself that it had happened to be one of those rare fine summers that -appear occasionally just to make the average summer seem more paltry. -When she had received a cheque for some eighty pounds, representing the -sum her furniture had brought her after the payment of all expenses, she -had written to Canterton and returned him the hundred pounds he had paid -her, pleading that it irked her memories of their comradeship. She had -given Kate Duveen’s address, after asking her friend’s consent, and in -her letter she had written cheerfully and bravely, desiring Canterton to -remember their days together, but not to attempt to see her. - - “You will be kind, and not come into this new life of mine. I am - not ashamed to say that I have suffered, but that I have nothing - to regret. Since I am alone, it is best that I should be alone. - You will understand. When the pain has died down, one does not - want old wounds reopened. - - “I think daily of Lynette. Kiss her for me. Some day it may be - possible for me to see her again.” - -Three weeks passed before Kate Duveen handed Eve a letter as they -crossed Russell Square in the direction of Tottenham Court Road. It was -a raw, misty morning, and the plane trees, with their black boles and -boughs, looked sombre and melancholy. - -“This came for you.” - -She saw the colour rise in Eve’s face, and the light that kindled deep -down in her eyes. - -“Not cured yet!” - -“Have I asked to be cured?” - -Eve read Canterton’s letter at her desk at Miss Champion’s. It was a -longish letter, and as she read it she seemed to hear him talking in the -fir woods below Orchards Corner. - - “DEAR EVE,—I write to you as a man who has been humbled, and - who has had to bear the bitterness of not being able to make - amends. - - “I came to see things with your eyes, quite suddenly, the very - morning that you went away. I took Lynette with me to Orchards - Corner, to show her as a symbol of my surrender. But you had - gone. - - “I was humbled. And the silence that shut me in humbled me still - more. - - “I did not try to discover things, though that might have been - easy. - - “As to your leaving Fernhill so suddenly, I managed to smother - all comment upon that. - - “You had been offered, unexpectedly, a very good post in London, - and your mother’s death had made you feel restless at Orchards - Corner. That was what I said. - - “Lynette talks of you very often. It is, ‘When will Miss Eve - come down to see us?’ ‘Won’t she spend her holidays here?’ - ‘Won’t you take me to London, daddy, to see Miss Eve?’ - - “As for this money that you have returned to me, I have put it - aside and added a sum to it for a certain purpose that has taken - my fancy. I let you return it to me, because I have some - understanding of your pride. - - “I am glad, deeply glad, that good luck has come to you. If I - can serve you at any time and in any way, you can count on me to - the last breath. - - “I am a different man, in some respects, from the man I was - three months ago. Try to realise that. Try to realise what it - suggests. - - “If you realise it, will you let me see you now and again, just - as a comrade and a friend? - - “Say yes or no. - - “JAMES CANTERTON.” - -Eve was bemused all day, her eyes looking through her work into infinite -distances. She avoided Kate Duveen, whose unsentimental directness would -have hurt her, lunched by herself, and walked home alone to Bosnia Road. -She sat staring at the fire most of the evening before she wrote to -Canterton. - - “Your letter has made me both sad and happy, Jim. Don’t feel - humbled on my account. The humiliation should be mine, because - neither the world nor I could match your magnanimity. - - “Sometimes my heart is very hungry for sight of Lynette. - - “Yes, I am working hard. It is better that I should say ‘No.’ - - “EVE.” - -Four days passed before Kate handed her another letter. - - “Perhaps you are right, and I am wrong. If it is your wish that - I should not see you, I bow to it with all reverence. - - “Do not think that I do not understand. - - “Some day, perhaps, you will come to see Lynette. Or I could - bring her up to town and leave her at your friend’s for you to - find her. I promise to lay no ambuscades. When you have gone I - can call for her again. - - “I should love her better because she had been near you.” - -Kate Duveen was hard at work one evening, struggling, with the help of a -dictionary, through a tough book on German philosophy, when the maid -knocked at her door. - -“What is it, Polly?” - -The girl’s name was Ermentrude, but Kate persisted in calling her Polly. - -“There’s a gentleman downstairs, miss. ’E’s sent up ’is card. ’E -wondered whether you’d see ’im.” - -Kate glanced at the card and read, “James Canterton.” - -She hesitated a moment. - -“Yes, I will see him. Ask him up.” - -Her hard, workaday self had risen as to a challenge. She felt an almost -fierce eagerness to meet this man, to give him battle, and rout him with -her truth-telling and sarcastic tongue. Canterton, as she imagined him, -stood for all the old man-made sexual conveniences, and the social -makeshift that she hated. He was the big, prejudiced male, grudging a -corner of the working world to women, but ready enough to make use of -them when his passions or his sentiments were stirred. - -When he came into the room she did not rise from the table, but remained -sitting there with her books before her. - -“Miss Duveen?” - -“Yes. Will you shut the door and sit down?” - -She spoke with a rigid asperity, and he obeyed her, but without any sign -of embarrassment or nervousness. There was just a subtle something that -made her look at him more intently, more interestedly, as though he was -not the sort of man she had expected to see. - -“It is Mr. Canterton of Fernhill, is it not?” - -“Yes.” - -She was merciless enough to sit there in silence, with her rigid, -watchful face, waiting for him to break the frost. Her mood had passed -suddenly beyond mere prejudice. She felt the fighting spirit in her -piqued by a suspicion that she was dealing with no ordinary man. - -He sat in one of her arm-chairs, facing her, and meeting her eyes with -perfect candour. - -“I am wondering whether I must explain——” - -“Your call, and its object?” - -“Yes.” - -“I don’t think it is necessary. I think I know why you have come.” - -“So much the better.” - -She caught him up as though he were assuming her to be a possible -accomplice. - -“I may as well tell you that you will get nothing out of me. She does -not live here.” - -“Perhaps you will tell me what you imagine my object to be.” - -“You want Eve Carfax’s address.” - -For the first time she saw that she had stung him. - -“Then I can assure you you are wrong. I have no intention of asking for -it. It is a point of honour.” - -She repeated the words slowly, and in a quiet and ironical voice. - -“A point of honour!” - -She became conscious of his smile, a smile that began deep down in his -eyes. It angered her a little, because it suggested that his man’s -knowledge was deeper, wiser, and kinder than hers. - -“I take it, Miss Duveen, that you are Eve’s very good friend.” - -“I hope so.” - -“That is exactly why I have come to you. Understand me, Eve is not to -know that I have been here.” - -“Thank you. Please dictate what you please.” - -“I will. I want you to tell me just how she is—if she is in really -bearable surroundings?” - -Kate’s eyes studied him over her books. Here was something more vital -than German philosophy. - -“Mr. Canterton, I ought to tell you that I know a little of what has -happened this summer. Not that Eve is a babbler——” - -“I am glad that you know.” - -“Really. I should not have thought that you would be glad.” - -“I am. Will you answer my question?” - -“And may I ask what claim you have to be told anything about Eve?” - -He answered her quietly, “I have no right at all.” - -A smile, very like a glimmer of approval, flickered in her eyes. - -“You recognise that. Wasn’t it rather a pity——” - -“Miss Duveen, I have not come here to justify anything. I wanted a fine, -working comradeship, and Eve showed me, that for a particular reason, it -was impossible. Till I met her there was nothing on earth so dear to me -as my child, Lynette. When Eve came into my life she shared it with the -child. Is it monstrous or impertinent that I should desire to know -whether she is in the way of being happy?” - -Kate saw in him a man different from the common crowd of men, and Eve’s -defence of him recurred to her. His frankness was the frankness of -strength. His bronzed head, with its blue eyes and generous mouth began -to take on a new dignity. - -“Mr. Canterton, I am not an admirer of men.” - -“You should have studied flowers.” - -“Thank you. I will answer your question. Eve is earning a living. It is -not luxury, but it is better than most women workers can boast of. She -works hard. And she has ambitions.” - -He answered at once. - -“I am glad of that. Ambition—the drive of life, is everything. You have -given me good news.” - -Kate Duveen sat in thought a moment, staring at the pages of German -philosophy. - -“Mr. Canterton, I’m interested. I am going to be intrusive. Is it -possible for a man to be impersonal?” - -“Yes, and no. It depends upon the plane to which one has climbed.” - -“You could be impersonally kind to Eve.” - -“I think that I told you that I am very fond of my youngster, Lynette. -That is personal and yet impersonal. It is not of the flesh.” - -She nodded her head, and he rose. - -“I will ask you to promise me two things.” - -“What are they?” - -“That if Eve should wish to see Lynette, I may leave the child here, and -call for her again after Eve has gone?” - -Kate considered the point. - -“Yes, that’s sensible enough. I can see no harm in it. And the other -thing?” - -“That if Eve should be in trouble at any time, you will promise to let -me know?” - -She looked at him sharply. - -“Wait! It flashed across your mind that I am waiting for my opportunity? -You are descending to the level of the ordinary man whom you despise. I -asked this, because I should want to help her without her knowing.” - -Kate Duveen stood up. - -“You scored a hit there. Yes, I’ll promise that. Of course, Eve will -never know you have been here.” - -“I rely on you there. Men are apt to forget that women have pride.” - -She held out a hand to him. - -“There’s my pledge. I can assure you that I had some bitter things under -my tongue when you came in. I have not said them.” - -“They could not have hurt more than some of my own thoughts have hurt -me. That’s the mistake people make. The whip does not wound so much as -compassion.” - -“Yes, that’s true. A blow puts our egotism in a temper. I’ll remember -that!” - -“I am glad that you are Eve’s friend.” - -Kate Duveen stood looking down into the fire after Canterton had gone. - -“One must not indulge in absolute generalities,” she thought. “Men can -be big—sometimes. Now for this stodgy old German.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - - EVE’S SENSE OF THE LIMITATIONS OF LIFE - - -Eve’s London moods began to be more complex, and tinged with discontent. - -The homelessness of the great city depressed her. She felt its chaotic -vastness, knowing all the while that there was ordered purpose behind -all its seeming chaos, and that all its clamour and hurry and crowded -interplay of energies had meaning and significance. There were some few -men who ruled, and who perhaps understood, but the crowd! She knew -herself to be one of the crowd driven forward by necessity that barked -like a brisk sheepdog round and about a drove of sheep. Sometimes her -mood was one of passionate resentment. London was so abominably ugly, -and the eternal and seemingly senseless hurry tired her brain and her -eyes. She had no cockney instincts, and the characteristic smells of the -great city aroused no feeling of affectionate satisfaction. The odours -connected with burnt oil and petrol, pickle and jam factories, the -laying of asphalt, breweries, Covent Garden, the Meat Market, had no -familiar suggestiveness. Nor did the shops interest her for the moment. -She had left the more feminine part of herself at Fernhill, and was -content to wear black. - -London gave her to the full the “damned anonymous” feeling, making her -realise that she had no corner of her very own. The best of us have some -measure of sensitive egoism, an individuality that longs to leave its -personal impress upon something, even on the sand by the seashore, and -London is nothing but a great, trampled cattle-pen, where thousands of -hoofs leave nothing but a churn of mud. People build pigeon houses in -their back yards, or train nasturtiums up strings, when they live down -by Stepney. Farther westwards it is the sensitive individualism that -makes many a Londoner country mad. The self-conscious self resents the -sameness, the crowding mediocrity, the thousands of little tables that -carry the same food for thousands of people, the thousands of seats in -indistinguishable buses and cars, the thousands of little people who -rush on the same little errands along the pavements. For there is a -bitter uniformity even in the midst of a luxurious variety, when the -purse limits the outlook, and a week at Southend-on-Sea may be the -wildest of life’s adventures. - -Eve began to have the country hunger very badly. Autumn had gone, and -the winter rains and fogs had set in, and her thoughts went back to -Fernhill as she remembered it in summer, and as she imagined it in -autumn. What a green and spacious world she had left. The hush of the -pine woods on a windless day, when nothing moved save an occasional -squirrel. The blaze of roses in June. The blue horizons, the great white -clouds sailing, the purple heathland, the lush valleys with their -glimmerings of water! What autumn pictures rose before her, tantalising -her sense of beauty. She saw the bracken turning bronze and gold, the -larch woods changing to amber, the maples and beeches flaming pyres of -saffron, scarlet and gold. Those soft October mornings with the grass -grey with dew, and the sunlight struggling with white mists. She began -to thirst for beauty, and it was a thirst that picture galleries could -not satisfy. - -Even that last letter of hers to Canterton toned with her feeling of -cramped finality. She had written “No,” but often her heart cried “Yes,” -with an impetuous yearning towards sympathy and understanding. What a -masterful and creative figure was his when she compared him with these -thousands of black-coated men who scuttled hither and thither on -business that was someone else’s. She felt that she could be content -with more spiritual things, with a subtle perfume of life that made this -City existence seem gross and material and petty. - -Her daily walks from Highbury to Miss Champion’s helped to accentuate -the tendencies of these moods of hers. Sometimes Kate Duveen would walk -a great part of the way back with her, and Eve, who was the more -impressionable of the two, led her friend into many suggestive -discussions. Upper Street, Islington, saddened her. It seemed so typical -of the social scheme from which she was trying to escape. - -“Doesn’t all this make you feel that it is a city of slaves?” - -“That depends, perhaps, on one’s digestion.” - -“But does it? These people are slaves, without knowing it. Things are -thrust on them, and they think they choose.” - -“Nothing but suggestion, after all.” - -“Look, I will show you.” - -Eve stopped in front of a picture shop. - -“What’s your opinion of all that is in there?” - -“Hopeless, sentimental tosh, of course. But it suits the people.” - -“It is what is given them, and they take it. There is not one thing in -that window that has any glimmer of genius, or even of distinction.” - -“What do you expect in Islington?” - -“I call it catering for slaves, and that worst sort of slavery that does -not realise its own condition.” - -They walked on and passed a bookshop. Eve turned back. - -“Look again!” - -Kate Duveen laughed. - -“I suppose, for instance, that annoys you?” - -She pointed to a row of a dozen copies of a very popular novel written -by a woman, and called “The Renunciation.” - -“It does annoy me.” - -“That toshy people rave over tosh! A friend of mine knows the authoress. -She is a dowdy little bourgeoise who lives in a country town, and they -tell me that book has made her ten thousand pounds. She thinks she has a -mission, and that she is a second George Eliot.” - -“Doesn’t it annoy you?” - -“Why should it? Fools’ money for a fool’s tale. What do you expect? I -suppose donkeys think that there is nothing on earth like a donkey’s -braying!” - -“All the same, it helps my argument, that these people are slaves, only -capable of swallowing just what is given them.” - -“I dare say you are right. We ought to change a lot of this in the next -fifty years!” - -“I wonder. You see, he taught me a good deal, in the country, about -growth and evolution, and all that has come from the work of Mendel, De -Vries and Bates. He doesn’t believe in London. He called it an orchid -house, and said he preferred a few wholesome and indigenous weeds.” - -“All the more reason for believing that this sort of London won’t last. -We shall get something better.” - -“We may do, if we can get rid of some of the politicians.” - -It was about this time that Eve began to realise the limitations of her -present life, and to look towards a very problematical future. It seemed -more than probable that “means to the end” would absorb all her -energies, and that the end itself would never arrive. She found that her -hack work was growing more and more supreme, and that she had no leisure -for her own art. She felt tired at night, and on Saturdays she was more -tempted to go to a theatre than to sit at home in Bosnia Road and try to -produce pictures. Sundays, too, became sterile. She stayed in bed till -ten, and when she had had breakfast she found the suburban atmosphere -weighing upon her spirits. Church bells rang; decorous people in Sunday -clothes passed her window on their way to church or chapel. If she went -for a walk she everywhere met a suggestion of respectable relaxation -that dominated her energies and sent her home depressed and cynical. As -for the afternoons, they were spoilt for her by Mr. Albert Buss’s banjo, -though how his genteel mother reconciled herself to banjo-playing on a -Sunday Eve could not imagine. Three or four friends joined him. Eve saw -them saunter in at the gate, with dandy canes, soft hats, and an air of -raw doggishness. They usually stared hard at her window. The walls and -floors were thin, and Eve could hear much that they said, especially -when Mrs. Buss went out for her afternoon walk, and left the “nuts” -together. They talked about horse-racing and girls. - -“She’s a little bit of all right!” - -“You bet!” - -“Ain’t afraid to go home in the dark!” - -“What sort of young lady’s the lodger, Bert? Anything on?” - -“Not my style. Ain’t taking any!” - -“Go on, you don’t know how to play up to a girl. I’d get round anything -in London.” - -Just about dusk Mr. Buss and his friends sauntered out on love -adventures, and Mrs. Buss sat down at her piano and sung hymns with a -sort of rolling, throaty gusto. Eve found it almost unendurable, so much -so that she abandoned the idea of trying to use her Sundays at Bosnia -Road, and asked Kate Duveen to let her spend the day with her in -Bloomsbury. - -On weekdays, when it happened to be fine and not too cold, she and Kate -would spend the twenty minutes after lunch in St. James’s Park, sitting -on a seat and watching the irrepressible sparrows or the machinations of -a predatory cat. The bare trees stood out against the misty blue of the -London horizon, and even when the sun shone, the sunlight seemed very -thin and feeble. Other people sat on the seats, and read, or ate food -out of paper bags. Very rarely were these people conversational. They -appeared to have many thoughts to brood over, and nothing to say. - -Kate Duveen had noticed a change in Eve. There was a different look in -her eyes. She, too, was less talkative, and sometimes a cynical note -came into her voice. - -“What are you thinking about?” - -“Was I thinking?” - -“You haven’t said anything for five minutes.” - -“One can be conscious of an inner atmosphere, without calling it -thought.” - -“Much fog about?” - -Some of the sensitive fire came back into Eve’s eyes. - -“Kate, I am horribly afraid of being crushed—of becoming one of the -crowd. It seems to me that one may never have time to be oneself.” - -“You mean that the effort to live leaves no margin?” - -“That’s it. I suppose most of us find in the end that we are the slaves -of our hack work, and that our ambitions die of slow starvation. Think -of it. Think of the thousands of people who had something to do or say, -and were smothered by getting a living.” - -“It’s the usual thing. I felt it myself. I nearly gave up; but I set my -teeth and scratched. I’ve determined to fight through—to refuse to be -smothered. I’ll get my independence, somehow.” - -“Sometimes I feel that I must throw up all this bread and butter stuff, -and stake everything on one adventure.” - -“Then don’t do it. I have seen people try it. Ninety-nine out of the -hundred come back broken, far worse off than they were before. They’re -humble, docile things for the rest of their lives. Carry the harness -without a murmur. Not a kick left, I know.” - -“I have been thinking of a secretaryship. It might give me more -leisure—breathing space——” - -“Try it!” - -“Are you being ironical?” - -“Not a bit. I’ll speak to Miss Champion. She’s not a bad sort, so long -as you are tweety-tweety and never cause any complications.” - -“I wish you would speak to her.” - -“I will.” - -Kate Duveen had peculiar influence with Miss Champion, perhaps because -she was not afraid of her. Miss Champion thought her a very sound and -reliable young woman, a young woman whose health and strength seemed -phenomenal, and who never caused any friction by going down with -influenza, and so falling into arrears with her work. Kate Duveen had -made herself a very passable linguist. She could draw, type, scribble -shorthand, do book-keeping, write a good magazine article or edit the -ladies’ page of a paper. Every year she spent her three weeks’ holiday -abroad, and had seen a good deal of Germany, Italy and France. Miss -Champion always said that Kate Duveen had succeeded in doing a very -difficult thing—combining versatility with efficiency. - -“So Miss Carfax would like a secretaryship? I suppose you think her -suitable?” - -“There is not a safer girl in London.” - -“I understand you. Because she has looks.” - -“I think you can ignore them. She is very keen to get on.” - -“Very well. I will look out for something to suit her.” - -“I’m much obliged to you, Miss Champion. I believe in Eve Carfax.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - - - HUGH MASSINGER, ESQ. - - -Hugh Massinger, Esq., was a person of some distinction as a novelist, -and an æsthetic dabbler in Gothic mysteries. His novel “The Torch Lily” -had had a great sale, especially in the United States, where an -enthusiastic reviewer had compared it to Flaubert’s “Salambo.” Hugh -Massinger had edited “Marie de France” and the “Romance of the Rose,” -issued an abridged “Froissart,” and published books on “The Mediæval -Colour-sense,” and “The Higher Love of Provence.” His poems, sensuous, -Swinburnian fragments, full of purple sunsets and precious stones, -roses, red mouths and white bosoms had fascinated some of those erotic -and over-civilised youngsters who turn from Kipling as from raw meat. - -When Miss Champion offered Eve the post of secretary to Hugh Massinger, -she accepted it as a piece of unexpected good fortune, for it seemed to -be the very berth that she had hoped for, but feared to get. - -Miss Champion said some characteristic things. - -“Of course, you know who Mr. Massinger is? Yes. You have read ‘The Torch -Lily’? A little bold, but so full of colour. I must warn you that he is -just a trifle eccentric. You are to call and see him at ten o’clock -to-morrow at his flat in Purbeck Street. The terms are two pounds a -week, which, of course, includes my commission.” - -“I am very grateful to you, Miss Champion. I hope I shall satisfy Mr. -Massinger.” - -Miss Champion looked at her meaningly. - -“The great thing, Miss Carfax, is to be impersonal. Always the work, and -nothing but the work. That is how my protegées have always succeeded.” - -Eve concluded that Hugh Massinger was rather young. - -Miss Champion had stated that he was eccentric, but it was not the kind -of eccentricity that Eve had expected to find in Purbeck Street. A -youngish manservant with a bleached and dissolute face showed her into a -long room that was hung from floor to ceiling with black velvet. The -carpet was a pure white pile, and with the ceiling made the room look -like a black box fitted with a white bottom and lid. There was only one -window, and no furniture beyond a lounge covered with blood-red velvet, -two bronze bowls on hammered iron pedestals, an antique oak table, two -joint-stools, and a very finely carved oak court-cupboard in one corner. -The fire burnt in an iron brazier standing in an open fireplace. There -were no mirrors in the room, and on each square of the black velvet -hangings a sunflower was embroidered in gold silk. Heraldic glass had -been inserted into the centre panels of the window, and in the recess a -little silver tripod lamp burnt with a bluish flame, and gave out a -faint perfume. - -Eve had walked from Kate Duveen’s. It was the usual wet day, and the -streets were muddy, and as she sat on the joint-stool the valet had -offered her she saw that she had left footprints on the white pile -carpet. It seemed rather an unpropitious beginning, bringing London mud -into this eccentric gentleman’s immaculate room. - -She was still looking at the footprints, when the black hangings were -pushed aside, and a long, thin, yellow-faced young man appeared. He was -wrapped in a black velvet dressing-gown, and wore sandals. - -“Miss Carfax, I presume?” - -Eve had risen. - -“Yes.” - -“Please sit down. I’m afraid I am rather late this morning.” - -Any suggestion of subtle and decadent wickedness that the room possessed -was diluted by Hugh Massinger’s appearance. There was a droopingness -about him, and his face was one of those long yellow faces that fall -away in flaccid curves from the forehead to the chin. His nose drooped -at the tip, his eyes were melancholy under drooping lids; his chin -receded, and lost itself rather fatuously in a length of thin neck. His -hair was of the same tint as his smooth, sand-coloured face, where a -brownish moustache rolled over a wet mouth. He stooped badly, and his -shoulders were narrow. - -“I called on Miss Champion some days ago. My work requires special -ability. Shall I explain?” - -“Please.” - -He smiled like an Oriental, and, curling himself on the lounge, brought -a black metal cigarette case out of the pocket of his dressing-gown. - -“Do you mind if I smoke?” - -“Not in the least.” - -“Perhaps you will join me?” - -“I’m afraid I don’t.” - -She was surprised when he laughed a rather foolish laugh. - -“That’s quite a phrase, ‘The Women who Don’t!’ I keep a toyshop for -phrases.” - -He puffed his cigarette and began to explain the work to her in a soft -and sacramental voice that somehow made her want to laugh. He talked as -though he were reading blank-verse or some prose poem that was full of -mysterious precocity. But she forgot his sing-song voice in becoming -conscious of his eyes. They were moonish and rather muddy, and seemed to -be apprizing her, looking her up and down and in and out with peculiar -interest. She did not like Hugh Massinger’s eyes. They made her feel -that she was being touched. - -“I am writing a book on mediæval life, especially in regard to its -æsthetic values. There is a good deal of research to be done, and old -illustrations, illuminations and tapestries to be reproduced. It is to -be a big book, quite comprehensive.” - -Eve soon discovered that Hugh Massinger could not be impersonal in -anything that he undertook. The “I” “I” “I” oozed out everywhere. - -“Miss Champion assured me that you are a fine colourist. Colour is the -blood of life. That is why people who are colour mystics can wear black. -The true colour, like the blood, is underneath. I noticed, directly I -came into the room, that you were wearing black. It convinced me at once -that you would be a sympathetic worker. My art requires sympathy.” - -She smiled disarmingly. - -“I’m afraid my black is conventional.” - -“I should say that it is not. I suppose you have worked in the Museum?” - -“For two or three months.” - -“Deathly place! How life goes to dust and to museums! I’ll not ask you -to go there more than I can help.” - -His melancholy eyes drooped over her, and filled her with a -determination to be nothing but practical. She thought of Kate Duveen. - -“It’s my work, and I’m used to it.” - -“The place kills me.” - -“I don’t mind it at all. I think most of us need a certain amount of -work to do that we don’t like doing, because, if we can always do what -we like, we end by doing nothing.” - -He blinked at her. - -“Now, I never expected to hear you say that. It is so very British.” - -“I make a living in England!” and she laughed. “Will you tell me exactly -what you want me to do?” - -Massinger gathered himself up from the lounge, went to the oak cupboard, -and brought out a manuscript book covered with black velvet, and with -the inevitable sunflower embroidered on it. - -“I had better give you a list of the books I want you to dip into.” - -Eve took a notebook and a pencil from her bag, and for the next ten -minutes she was kept busy scribbling down ancient and unfamiliar titles. -Many of them smelt of Caxton, and Wynkyn de Worde, and of the -Elizabethans. There were books on hunting, armour, dress, domestic -architecture, painted glass, ivories and enamels; also herbals, -chap-books, monastic chronicles, Exchequer rolls and copies of charters. -Hugh Massinger might be an æsthetic ass, but he seemed to be a somewhat -learned one. - -“I think you will map out the days as follows: In the morning I will ask -you to go to the Museum and make notes and drawings. In the afternoon -you can submit them to me here, and I will select what I require, and -advise you as to what to hunt up next day. I suppose you won’t mind -answering some of my letters?” - -“Miss Champion said that I was to act as your secretary.” - -“Blessed word! I am pestered with letters. They tried to get me to -manage several of those silly pageants. They don’t understand the Middle -Ages, these moderns.” - -She wanted to keep to practical things. - -“What time shall I go to the Museum?” - -He stared. - -“I never worry about time—when you like.” - -“And how long will you want me here?” - -“I never work after five o’clock, except, of course, when I feel -creative.” - -She stood up, putting her notebook back into her bag. - -“Then, shall I start to-morrow?” - -“If it pleases you.” - -“Of course.” - -He accompanied her to the door, and opened it for her, looking with half -furtive intentness into her face. - -“I think we shall get on very well together, Miss Carfax.” - -“I hope so.” - -She went out with a vague feeling of contempt and distaste. - -Within a week Eve discovered that she was growing interested in her new -work, and also interested, in a negative fashion, in Hugh Massinger. He -was a rather baffling person, impressing her as a possible genius and as -a palpable fool. She usually found him curled up on the lounge, smoking -a hookah, and looking like an Oriental, sinister and sleepy. For some -reason or other, his smile made her think of a brass plate that had not -been properly cleaned, and was smeary. Once or twice the suspicion -occurred to her that he took drugs. - -But directly he began to use his brain towards some definite end, she -felt in the presence of a different creature. His eyes lost their -sentimental moonishness; his thin and shallow hands seemed to take a -virile grip; his voice changed, and his mouth tightened. The -extraordinary mixture of matter that she brought back from the Museum -jumbled in her notes was seized on and sorted, and spread out with -wonderful lucidity. His knowledge astonished her, and his familiarity -with monkish Latin and Norman French and early English. The complex, -richly coloured life of the Middle Ages seemed to hang before him like a -splendid tapestry. He appeared to know every fragment of it, every -shade, every faded incident, and he would take the tangle of threads she -brought him and knot them into their places with instant precision. His -favourite place was on the lounge, his manuscript books spread round him -while he jotted down a fact here and there, or sometimes recorded a -whole passage. - -But directly his intellectual interest relaxed he became flabby, -sentimental, and rather fulsome in his personalities. The manservant -would bring in tea, and Massinger would insist on Eve sharing it with -him. He always drank China tea, and it reminded her of Fernhill, and the -teas in the gardens, only the two men were so very different. Massinger -had a certain playfulness, but it was the playfulness of a cat. His -pale, intent eyes made her uncomfortable. She did not mind listening -while he talked about himself, but when he tried to lure her into giving -him intimate matter in return, she felt mute, and on her guard. - -This new life certainly allowed her more leisure, for there were -afternoons when Hugh Massinger did not work at all, and Eve went home -early to Bosnia Road. On these afternoons she managed to snatch an -hour’s daylight, but the stuff she produced did not please her. She had -all the craftsman’s discontent in her favour, but the glow seemed to -have gone out of her colours. - -Kate Duveen wanted to know all about Hugh Massinger. She had read some -of his poetry, and thought it “erotic tosh.” - -Eve was quite frank. - -“He interests me, but I don’t like him.” - -“Why not?” - -“Instinct! Some people don’t strike one as being clean.” - -She described the black velvet room, and the way Massinger dressed. -Kate’s nostrils dilated. - -“Faugh, that sort of fool! Do you mean to say he receives you in a -dressing-gown and sandals?” - -“It is part of the pose.” - -“I wonder why it is that when a man is clever in the artistic way, he so -often behaves like an ass? I thought the art pose was dying out. Can you -imagine Bergson, or Ross, or Treves, or Nansen, dressing up and scenting -themselves and sitting on a divan? People who play with words seem to -get tainted, and too beastly self-conscious.” - -“He rather amuses me.” - -“Do his lips drop honey? If there is one kind of man I hate it’s the man -who talks clever, sentimental slosh.” - -“I don’t encourage the honey.” - -Kate came in flushed one day to the little corner table they frequented -in one of Lyons’s shops. It was an unusual thing for Kate to be flushed, -or to show excitement. Something had happened. - -“Great news?” - -Her eyes shone. - -“I’ve got it at last.” - -“Your travelling berth?” - -“Yes. A serious-minded young widow wants a travelling companion, -secretary, etc. Rage for cosmopolitan colour, pictures and peoples. We -begin with Egypt, go on to the Holy Land, Damascus, Constantinople. Then -back to the South of France, do Provence and the towns and châteaux, -wander down to Italy and Sicily, and just deign to remember the Tyrol -and Germany on the way home. It’s gorgeous!” - -Eve flushed too. - -“Kate, I am glad.” - -“My languages did it! She can speak French, but no German or Italian. -And the pay’s first-class. I always wanted to specialise in this sort of -vagabondage.” - -“You’ll write books!” - -“Who knows! We must celebrate. We’ll dine at the Hotel d’Italie, and go -and see Pavlova at the Palace. It’s my day.” - -Despite her delight in Kate’s good fortune, Eve had a personal regret -haunting the background of her consciousness. Kate Duveen was her one -friend in London. She would miss her bracing, cynical strength. - -They dined at the Hotel d’Italie in one of the little upper rooms, and -Kate talked Italian to the waiters, and made Eve drink her health in -very excellent Barolo. She had been lucky in getting seats at the -Palace, two reserved tickets having been sent back only ten minutes -before she had called. - -Eve had never seen Pavlova before, and the black-coated and conventional -world melted out of her consciousness as she sat and watched the Russian -dancer. That fragile, magical, childlike figure seemed to have been -conceived in the heart of a white flame. It was life, and all the -strange and manifold suggestions of life vibrating and glowing in one -slight body. Eve began to see visions, as she sat in the darkness and -watched Pavlova moving to Chopin’s music. Pictures flashed and vanished, -moods expressed in colour. The sun went down behind black pine woods, -and a wind wailed. A half-naked girl dressed in skins and vine leaves -fled from the brown arms of a young barbarian. A white butterfly flitted -among Syrian roses. She heard bees at work, birds singing in the dawn. -And then, it was the pale ghost of Francesca drifting through the -moonlight with death in her eyes and hair. - -Then the woman’s figure was joined by a man’s figure, and Liszt’s Second -Hungarian Rhapsody was in the air. The motive changed. Something -bacchic, primitive, passionate leapt in the blood. Eve sat thrilled, -with half-closed eyes. Those two figures, the woman’s and the man’s, -seemed to rouse some wild, elemental spirit in her, to touch an -undreamt-of subconsciousness that lay concealed under the workaday life. -Desire, the exultation of desire, and the beauty of it were very real to -her. She felt breathless and ready to weep. - -When it was over, and she and Kate were passing out with the crowd, a -kind of languor descended on her, like the languor that comes after the -senses have been satisfied. It was not a sensual feeling, although it -was of the body. Kate too was silent. Pavlova’s dancing had reacted on -her strangely. - -“Let’s walk!” - -“Would you rather?” - -“Yes.” - -“As far as my rooms. Then I shall put you in a taxi.” - -They had to wait awhile before crossing the road, as motors were -swarming up. - -“That woman’s a genius. She made me feel like a rusty bit of clockwork!” - -“She had a most extraordinary effect on me!” - -Kate took Eve’s arm. - -“The thing’s pure, absolutely pure, and yet, she seems to show you what -you never believed was in you. It’s the soul of the world coming out to -dance, and making you understand all that is in us women. Heavens, I -found myself feeling like a Greek girl, a little drunk with wine, and -still more drunk with love.” - -“Kate—you!” - -“Yes, and it was not beastly, as those things usually are. I’m not an -emotional person. I suppose it is the big subconscious creature in one -answering a language that our clever little heads don’t understand.” - -Eve was thinking. - -“I envy that woman!” - -“Why?” - -“Because she has a genius, and because she has been able to express her -genius, and because she has succeeded in conquering the crowd. They -don’t know how clever she is, but they go and see her dance. Think what -it means being a supreme artist, and yet popular. For once the swine -seem to appreciate the pearl.” - -They were making their way through a crowd of loiterers at the corner of -Tottenham Court Road, when a tall man brushed against them and stepped -aside. He wore a black wideawake hat, a low collar with a bunchy black -silk tie, and a loose black coat with a tuberose in the buttonhole. He -stared first at Kate, and then at Eve with a queer, comprehensive, -apprizing stare. Suddenly he took off his hat. - -The women passed on. - -“Beast!” - -Kate’s mouth was iron. - -“That was Hugh Massinger.” - -“Hugh Massinger!” - -“Yes.” - -“Eve, I said ‘beast,’ and I still mean it.” - -“Your impression?” - -“Yes. I don’t think old Champion ought to have sent you to that sort of -man.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - - - KATE DUVEEN GOES ABROAD - - -Although Hugh Massinger had reached the cynical age of thirty-seven, he -had been so well treated by the Press and the public, that he had no -cause to develop a sneer. His essential self-satisfaction saved him from -being bored, for to be very pleased with oneself is to be pleased with -life in general. His appetites were still ready to be piqued, and he had -the same exotic delight in colour that he had had when he was an -undergraduate of twenty, and this reaction to colour is one of the -subtlest tests of a man’s vitality. When the sex stimulus weakens, when -a man becomes even a little disillusioned and a little bored, he no -longer thrills to colours. It is a sign that the youth in him is growing -grey. - -Hugh Massinger’s senses were abnormally excitable. He was city bred, and -a sitter in chairs, and a lounger upon lounges, and his ideas upon -flowers, woods, fields and the country in general were utterly false, -hectic and artificial. He was the sort of sentimentalist who was always -talking of the “beautiful intrigues of the plants,” of “the red lust of -June,” and the “swelling bosom of August.” His art was a sexual art. His -thoughts lay about on cushions, and he never played any kind of game. - -About this time Eve discovered that his sentimentality was growing more -demonstrative. It was like a yellow dog that fawned round and round her -chair, but seemed a little afraid of coming too near. He took a great -deal of trouble in trying to make her talk about herself, and in -thrusting a syrupy sympathy upon her. - -“You are looking tired to-day,” he would say, “I shan’t let you work.” - -She would protest that she was not tired. - -“Really, I am nothing of the kind.” - -“And I have quick eyes. It is that horrible reading-room full of -fustiness and indigence. I am ashamed to to send you there.” - -She would laugh and study to be more conventional. - -“Mr. Massinger, I am a very healthy young woman, and the work interests -me.” - -“My work?” - -“Yes.” - -“That is really sweet of you. I like to think your woman’s hands have -dabbled in it. Tell me, haven’t you any ambitions of your own—any -romantic schemes?” - -“Oh, I paint a little in my spare time!” - -“The mysteries of colour. You are a vestal, and your colour dreams must -be very pure. Supposing we talk this afternoon, and let work alone? And -Adolf shall make us coffee.” - -Adolf made excellent coffee, and in the oak court-cupboard Massinger -kept liqueur glasses and bottles of choice liqueur. It was a harmless -sort of æsthetic wickedness, a little accentuated by occasional doses of -opium or cannabis indica. Eve would take the coffee, but she could never -be persuaded to touch the Benedictine. It reminded her of Massinger’s -moonish and intriguing eyes. - -At that time she thought of him as a sentimental ass, a man with a fine -brain and no common sense. She posed more and more as a very -conventional young woman, pretending to be a little shocked by his views -of life, and meeting his suggestive friendliness with British -obtuseness. She gave him back Ruskin, the Bensons and Carlyle when he -talked of Wilde. And yet this pose of hers piqued Massinger all the more -sharply, though she did not suspect it. He talked to himself of -“educating her,” of “reforming her taste,” and of “teaching her to be a -little more sympathetic towards the sweet white frailties of life.” - -Early in December Kate’s last evening came, and Eve spent it with her in -the Bloomsbury rooms. There were the last odds and ends of packing to be -done, the innumerable little feminine necessaries to be stowed away in -the corners of the “steamer” trunks. Eve helped, and her more feminine -mind offered a dozen suggestions to her more practical friend. Kate -Duveen was not a _papier poudre_ woman. She did not travel with a bagful -of sacred little silver topped boxes and bottles, and her stockings were -never anything else but black. - -“Have you got any hazeline and methylated spirit?” - -“No.” - -“You must get some on the way to the station. Or I’ll get them in the -morning. And have you plenty of thick veiling?” - -“My complexion is the last thing I ever think of.” - -“You have not forgotten the dictionaries, though.” - -“No, nor my notebooks and stylo.” - -They had supper together, and then sat over the fire with their feet on -the steel fender. Kate Duveen had become silent. She was thinking of -James Canterton, and the way he had walked into her room that evening. - -“Eve!” - -“Yes!” - -“I am going to break a promise in order to keep a promise. I think I am -justified.” - -“What is it?” - -“He came here to see me one evening about two months ago.” - -“Whom do you mean?” - -“James Canterton.” - -“And you didn’t tell me!” - -“He asked me to promise not to tell, and I liked him for it. I was -rather astonished, and I snapped at him. He took it like a big dog. But -he asked me to promise something else.” - -“What was it?” - -“That if ever things were to go badly with you, I would let him know.” - -She glanced momentarily at Eve and found that she was staring at the -fire, her lips parted slightly, as though she were about to smile, and -her eyes were full of a light that was not the mere reflection of the -fire. Her whole face had softened, and become mysteriously radiant. - -“That was like him.” - -“Then I may keep my promise?” - -“Yes.” - -“I think I can trust you both.” - -Eve said nothing. - -She saw Kate off in her cab next morning before going to her work at the -Museum. They held hands, but did not kiss. - -“I’m so glad that you’ve had this good luck. You deserve it.” - -“Nonsense. Write; and remember that promise.” - -“I hope there will be no need for you to keep it. Good-bye, dear! You’ve -been so very good to me.” - -She was very sad when Kate had gone, and in the great reading-room such -a rush of loneliness came over her that she had but little heart for -work. She fell to thinking of Canterton, and of the work they had done -together, and the thought of Hugh Massinger and that flat of his in -Purbeck Street made her feel that life had cheapened and deteriorated. -There was something unwholesome about the man and his art. It humiliated -her to think that sincerity had thrust this meaner career upon her. - -Punctually at two o’clock she rang the bell of the flat in Purbeck -Street. Adolf admitted her. She disliked Adolf’s smile. It was a recent -development, and it struck her as being latently offensive. - -Hugh Massinger was curled up on the lounge, reading one of Shaw’s plays. -He loathed Shaw, but read him as a dog worries something that it -particularly detests. He sat up, his moonish eyes smiling, and Eve -realised for the first time that his eyes and Adolf’s were somewhat -alike. - -She sat down at the table, and began to arrange her notebooks. - -“You look _triste_ to-day.” - -“Do I?” - -“I am growing very understanding towards your moods.” - -She caught the challenge on the shield of a casual composure. - -“I lost a friend this morning.” - -“Not by death?” - -“Oh, no! She has gone abroad. One does not like losing the only friend -one has in London.” - -He leaned forward with a gesture of protest. - -“Now you have hurt me.” - -“Hurt you, Mr. Massinger!” - -“I thought that I was becoming something of a friend.” - -She made herself look at him with frank, calm eyes. - -“It had not occurred to me. I really am very much obliged to you. Shall -I begin to read out my notes?” - -He did not answer for a moment, but remained looking at her with -sentimental solemnity. - -“My dear lady, you will not put me off like that. I am much too -sympathetic to be repulsed so easily. I don’t like to see you sad. Adolf -shall make coffee, and we will give up work this afternoon and chatter. -You shall discover a friend——” - -She said, very quietly: - -“I would rather work, Mr. Massinger. Work is very soothing.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII - - - THE BOURGEOIS OF CLARENDON ROAD - - -Mrs. Buss had surrendered at last to Eve’s persuasions, and a jobbing -carpenter had erected a section-built shed in the back garden at Bosnia -Road. The shed had a corrugated iron roof, and Mrs. Buss had stipulated -that the roof should be painted a dull red, so that it might “tone” with -the red brick houses. The studio was lined with matchboarding, had a -skylight in the roof, and was fitted with an anthracite stove. The whole -affair cost Eve about twenty-five pounds, with an additional two -shillings added to the weekly rent of her rooms. She paid for the studio -out of the money she had received from the sale of the furniture at -Orchards Corner, and her capital had now dwindled to about forty-five -pounds. - -Every morning on her way towards Highbury Corner, Eve passed the end of -Clarendon Grove, a road lined with sombre, semi-detached houses, whose -front gardens were full of plane trees, ragged lilacs and privets, and -scraggy laburnums. Eve, who was fairly punctual, passed the end of -Clarendon Grove about a quarter to nine each morning, and there was -another person who was just as punctual in quite a detached and -unpremeditated way. Sometimes she saw him coming out of a gate about a -hundred yards down Clarendon Grove, sometimes he was already turning the -corner, or she saw his broad fat back just ahead of her, always on the -same side of the street. - -She christened him “the Highbury Clock,” or “the British Bourgeois.” He -was a shortish, square-built man of about five-and-forty, with clumsy -shoulders, a round head, and big feet. He turned his toes out like a -German when he walked, and he always went at the same pace, and always -carried a black handbag. His face was round, phlegmatic, good tempered, -and wholly commonplace, the eyes blue and rather protuberant, the nose -approximating to what is vulgarly called the “shoe-horn type,” the mouth -hidden by a brownish walrus moustache. He looked the most regular, -reliable, and solid person imaginable in his top-hat, black coat, and -neatly pressed grey trousers. Eve never caught him hurrying, and she -imagined that in hot weather he ought to wear an alpaca coat. - -They sighted each other pretty regularly for some three months before -chance caused them to strike up a casual acquaintanceship. One wet day -the Bourgeois gave up his seat to Eve in a crowded tram. After that he -took off his hat to her whenever she happened to pass across the end of -Clarendon Grove in front of him. One morning they arrived at the corner -at the same moment, and the Bourgeois wished her “good morning.” - -They walked as far as Upper Street together. It seemed absurd for two -humans whose paths touched so often not to smile and exchange a few -words about the weather, and so it came about that they joined forces -whenever the Bourgeois was near enough to the corner for Eve not to have -to indulge in any conscious loitering. - -He was a very decent sort of man, and his name was Mr. Parfit. He was -something in the neighbourhood of Broad Street, but what it was he did -not state, and Eve did not inquire. In due course she discovered that he -was a bachelor, that he had lived for fifteen years in the same rooms, -that he had a passion for romantic novels, and that he went regularly to -Queen’s Hall. He spent Sunday in his slippers, reading _The Referee_. A -three weeks’ holiday once a year satisfied any vagrant impulses he might -feel, and he spent these three weeks at Ramsgate, Hastings or Brighton. - -“I like to be in a crowd,” he told Eve, “with plenty of youngsters -about. There’s nothing I like better than sitting on the sands with a -pipe and a paper, watching the kids making castles and pies, and -listening to Punch and Judy. Seems to make one feel young.” - -She liked Mr. Parfit, and often wondered why he had not married. Perhaps -he was one of those men who preferred being a very excellent uncle -rather than a bored father, for she gathered that he was fond of other -people’s children, and was always ready with his pennies. He had a sly, -laborious, porcine humour, and a chuckle that made his cheeks wrinkle -and his eyes grow smaller. He was exceedingly polite to Eve, and though -at times he seemed inclined to be good-naturedly personal, she knew that -it was part of his nature and not a studied attempt at familiarity. - -Eve was glad to have this very human person to talk to, for she found -life increasingly lonely, now that Kate Duveen had gone. Mr. Parfit had -a fatherly way with him, and though his culture was crude and raw, he -had a shrewd outlook upon things in general that was not unamusing. -London, too, was in the thick of the mud and muck of a wet winter, and -Eve found that she was growing more susceptible to the depressing -influence of bad weather. It spoilt her morning’s walk, and caused a -quite unnecessary expenditure on trams and ’buses, and roused her to a -kind of rage when she pulled up her blind in the morning and saw the -usual drizzle making the slate roofs glisten. She associated her new -studio with rain, for there always seemed to be a pattering sound upon -the corrugated iron roof when she shut herself in to work. - -She grew more moody, and her moodiness drove her into desperate little -dissipations, such as a seat in the upper circle at His Majesty’s or the -Haymarket, a dinner at an Italian restaurant, or a tea at Fuller’s. She -found London less depressing after dark, and learnt to understand how -the exotic city, with its night jewels glittering, appealed to people -who were weary of greyness. Her sun-hunger and her country-hunger had -become so importunate that she had spent one Sunday in the country, -taking train to Guildford, and walking up to the Hog’s Back. The Surrey -hills had seemed dim and sad, and away yonder she had imagined Fernhill, -with its fir woods and its great pleasaunce. She had felt rather like an -outcast, and the day had provoked such sadness in her that she went no -more into the country. - -The extraordinary loneliness of such a life as hers filled her at times -with cynical amusement. How absurd it was, this crowded solitude of -London; this selfish, suspicious, careless materialism. No one bothered. -More than once she felt whimsically tempted to catch some passing woman -by the arm, and to say “Stop and talk to me. I am human, and I have a -tongue.” After tea she would often loiter along Regent Street or Oxford -Street, looking rather aimlessly into the shops, and studying the faces -of the people who passed; but she found that she had to abandon this -habit of loitering, for more than once men spoke to her, looking in her -face with a look that made her grow cold with a white anger. - -It was inevitable that she should contrast this London life with the -life at Fernhill, and compare all other men with James Canterton. She -could not help making the comparison, nor did the comparison, when made, -help her to forget. The summer had given her her first great experience, -and all this subsequent loneliness intensified the vividness of her -memories. She yearned to see Lynette, to feel the child’s warm hands -touching her. She longed, too, for Canterton, to be able to look into -his steady eyes, to feel his clean strength near her, to realise that -she was not alone. Yes, he was clean, while these men who passed her in -the streets seemed horrible, greedy and pitiless. They reminded her of -the people in Aubrey Beardsley’s drawings, people with grotesque and -leering faces, out of whose eyes nameless sins escaped. - -The flat in Purbeck Street offered her other contrasts after the rain -and the wet streets and the spattering mud from the wheels of -motor-buses. It was eccentric but unwholesome, luxurious, and -effeminate, with suggestions of an extreme culture and an individual -idea of beauty. Coming straight from a cheap lunch eaten off a -marble-topped table to this muffled, scented room, was like passing from -a colliery slum to a warm and scented bath in a Roman villa. Eve noticed -that her shoes always seemed muddy, and she laughed over it, and -apologised. - -“I always leave marks on your white carpet.” - -“You should read Baudelaire in order to realise that a thing that is -white is of no value without a few symbolical stains. Supposing I have a -glass case put over one of your footprints, so that Adolf shall not wash -them all away?” - -That was just what she disliked about Hugh Massinger. He was for ever -twisting what she said into an excuse for insinuating that he found her -charming and provocative. He did not play at gallantry like a gentleman. -A circuitous cleverness and a natural cowardliness kept him from being -audaciously frank. He fawned like a badly bred dog, and she liked his -fawnings so little that she began to wonder at last whether this fool -was in any way serious. - -One morning it snowed hard before breakfast for about an hour, and by -one o’clock London was a city of slush. Eve felt depressed, and her -shoes and stockings and the bottom of her skirt were sodden when she -reached the flat in Purbeck Street. Adolf smiled his usual smile, and -confessed that Mr. Massinger had not expected her. - -“Ma Donna! I never thought you would brave this horrible weather.” - -He threw a book aside and was up, solicitous, and not a little pleased -at the chance of being tender. - -“I suppose English weather is part of the irony of life!” - -“Good heavens! Your shoes and skirt are wet!” - -“A little.” - -He piled two or three cushions in front of the fire. - -“Do sit down and take your shoes and stockings off, and dry your skirt.” - -She sat down and took off her shoes. - -“Stockings too! I can be very fatherly and severe. Do you think it -immodest to show your bare feet? You must have a liqueur; it will warm -you.” - -“I would rather not.” - -“Oh, come! You are a pale Iseult to-day.” - -“Thank you, I would rather not.” - -“Then Adolf shall make us coffee.” - -He rang the bell. - -“Adolf, coffee and some biscuits! And bring that purple scarf of mine.” - -The scarf arrived first, and Massinger held it spread over his hands -like a shop-assistant showing off a length of silk. - -“Two little white empresses shall wear the purple. No work this -afternoon. I am going to try to make you forget the weather.” - -Adolf came in noiselessly with the coffee, set it on a stool beside Eve, -and departed just as noiselessly, and with an absolutely expressionless -face. The way he had of effacing himself made Eve more conscious of his -existence. - -The fire was comforting, so was the coffee. She could have slipped into -a mood of soothed indolence if Massinger had not been present. But his -leering obsequiousness had disturbed her, and she found herself facing -that eternal problem as to how a woman should behave to a man who -employed her and paid for her time. Was it necessary to quarrel with all -this sentimental by-play? She still held to her impression that he was a -very great ass. - -“This detestable climate! It brutalises us. It makes one understand why -the English drink beer, and love to see the red corpses of animals hung -up in shops. A gross climate, and a gross people.” - -Eve had wrapped the purple scarf round her feet. - -“If we could be sure of a little sunshine every other day!” - -She was staring at the fire, and Massinger was studying her with an -interested intentness. Thought and desire were mingled at the back of -his pale eyes. - -“Sunshine—clear, yellow light! Don’t you yearn for it?” - -“Who does not? With the exception of the people who have been baked in -the tropics.” - -“And it is so near. The people who are free can always find it.” - -He lay back against the cushions on the lounge, his eyes still on her, -and shining with an incipient smile. - -“You leave the grey country at dusk, and travel through the night, and -then the dawn comes up, all orange and gold, and the cypresses hold up -their beckoning fingers. There the sea is blue, and there are flowers, -roses, carnations, wallflowers, stocks, and mimosa; oranges and lemons -hang on the trees, and the white villas shine among palms and olives.” - -His voice became insinuating, and took on its sing-song blank-verse -cadence. - -“Have you ever seen Monte Carlo?” - -“No.” - -“It is a vulgar world to the vulgar. But that delectable little world -has an esoteric meaning. The sun shines, and it is easier to make love -under a blue sky. And then, all those little towns on the edge of the -blue sea, and the grey rock villages, and the adventures up mule-paths. -Think of a mule-path, and pine woods, and sunlight, and a bottle of red -wine.” - -She laughed, but with a tremor of self-consciousness. - -“It is useful to think of such things, just to realise how very far away -they are.” - -“Nothing is far away, when one has the magic carpet of gold. Have the -courage to dream, and there you are.” - -He got up, wandered round the room with a wavering glance at her, and -then came across to the fire. - -“Just think of ‘Monte’ and the sunlight, and the gay pagan life. It is -worth experiencing. Dream of it for a week in London. Are you getting -dry?” - -He went down suddenly on one knee and felt her skirt, and in another -moment he had touched one of her feet. - -“The little white empress is warm. How would she like to walk the -terraces at Monte Carlo?” - -Eve kept very still. She had an abrupt glimpse of the meaning of his -suggestions, and of all that was moving towards her in this man’s mind. -Intuition told her that she would rebuff him more thoroughly by treating -him as a sentimental idiot than by flattening him with anger, as if he -were a man. - -“Please don’t do that. It’s foolish, and makes me want to laugh. I think -it’s time we were serious. I am ready for work.” - -For an instant his eyes looked sulky and dangerous. - -“What a practical person it is.” - -“And what a long time you have taken to find that out. I’m afraid I’m -not in the least sentimental.” - -Hugh Massinger went back to the lounge like a cat that has been laughed -at. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - - - CANTERTON’S COTTAGE AND MISS CHAMPION’S MORALITY - - -Three days before Christmas, Eve spent a quarter of an hour in a big -toyshop in quest of something that she could send Lynette, and her -choice came to rest upon a miniature cooking-stove fitted with a -three-trayed oven, pots and pans, and a delightful little copper kettle. -The stove cost her a guinea, but it was a piece of extravagance that -warmed her heart. - -She wrote on a card: - -“For cooking Fairy Food in the Wilderness. Miss Eve sends ever so much -love.” - -Eve had kept back one Latimer sketch, a little “post card” picture of a -stone Psyche standing in thought on the edge of a marble pool, with a -mass of cypresses for a background, and a circle of white water lilies -at her feet. She sent the picture to Canterton with a short letter, but -she did not give him her address. - - “I feel that I must send you Christmas wishes. This is a little - fragment I had kept by me, and I should like you to have it. - Plenty of hard work keeps me from emulating the pose of Psyche - in the picture. I am spending Christmas alone, but I shall - paint, and think of Lynette entertaining Father Christmas. - - “My friend, Kate Duveen, has gone abroad for six months. I think - when the spring comes I shall be driven to escape into the - country as an artistic tramp. - - “I have just built a studio. It measures fourteen feet by ten, - and lives in a back garden. So one is not distracted by having - beautiful things to look at. - - “I send you all the wishes that I can wish. - - “EVE.” - -When she posted the letter and sent off Lynette’s parcel, she felt that -they were passing across a vacant space into another world that never -touched her own. It was like a dream behind her consciousness. She -wondered, as she wandered away from the post office, whether she would -ever see Fernhill again. - -If the incident saddened her and accentuated her sense of loneliness, -that letter of hers, and the picture of the Latimer Psyche, saddened -Canterton still more poignantly. It was possible that he had secretly -hoped that Eve would relent a little, and that she would suffer him to -approach her again and let his honour spend itself in some comradely -service. He did not want to open up old wounds, but he desired to know -all that was happening to her, to feel that she was within sight, that -he did not love a mere memory. - -Lynette’s delight baffled him. - -“Now, that’s just what I wanted. Isn’t it like Miss Eve to think of it? -I must write to her, daddy. Where’s she say she’s living now?” - -“In London.” - -“Why doesn’t she come for Christmas?” - -“Because she’s so very busy. You write and thank her, old lady, and I’ll -send your letter with mine.” - -Lynette produced a longish letter, and Canterton wrote one of his own. -He enclosed a five pound note, addressed the envelope to Miss Eve -Carfax, c/o Miss Kate Duveen, and sent it into the unknown to take its -chance. - -He had written: - - “It still hurts me not a little that you will not trust me with - your address. I give you my promise never to come to you unless - you send for me. - - “Buy yourself something for the studio from me and Lynette. Even - if you spend the money on flowers I shall be quite happy.” - -And since Kate Duveen’s landlady did not know Eve’s address, and -happened to be a conscientious soul, Canterton’s letter was put into -another envelope and sent to hunt Kate down in the land of the lotus and -the flamingo. - -Christmas Day was bright and frosty, and Canterton wandered out alone -after breakfast with Eve’s letter in his pocket. The great nurseries -were deserted, and Canterton had this world of his to himself, even the -ubiquitous Lavender not troubling to go beyond the region of the -hot-houses. Canterton left the home gardens behind, cut across a -plantation of young pines, cypresses and cedars towards some of the -wilder ground that had been largely left to Nature. Here, under the -northerly shelter of a towering fir wood there happened to be an -out-cropping of rock, brown black hummocks of sandstone piled in natural -disorder, and looking like miniature mountains. - -Building had been going on here, and it was the building itself that -held Canterton’s thoughts. A cottage stood with its back to the fir -wood, a Tudor cottage built of oak and white plaster, and deep thatched -with blackened heather. The lattices were in, and blinked back the -December sunlight. A terrace of flat stones had been laid in front of -the cottage, and a freshly planted yew hedge shut in the future garden -that was still littered with builders’ debris, mortar-boards, planks, -messes of plaster and cement. The windows of the cottage looked -southwards towards the blue hills, and just beyond the yew hedge lay the -masses of sandstone that were being made into a rock garden. Earth had -been carted and piled about. Dwarf trees, saxifrages, aubrietias, -anemones, alyssum, arabis, thrift, sedums, irises, hundreds of tulips, -squills, crocuses, and narcissi had been planted. By next spring the -black brown rocks would be splashed with colour—purple and white, blue -and gold, rose, green and scarlet. - -On the cross-beam of the timber porch the date of the year had been cut. -Canterton stood and looked at it, thinking how strange a significance -those figures had for him. - -He took a key out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and climbed the half -finished staircase to one of the upper rooms. And for a while he stood -at the window, gazing towards the December sun hanging low in the -southern sky. - -Would she ever come to live in this cottage? - -He wondered. - -Canterton rarely discussed his affairs with anybody, and the cottage had -been half built before Gertrude had heard of its existence. And when she -had discovered it, Canterton had told her quite calmly what it was for. - -“I shall have to have help here. Eve Carfax may come back. She is trying -this berth in London for a year. She understands colour-gardening better -than anybody I have come across. If she fails me, I shall have to get -someone else. I think Drinkwater is making a very good job of the -cottage. I wanted something that is not conventional.” - -Gertrude had suggested that if the cottage were likely to remain -unoccupied for a while she might use it temporarily as a country -rest-house for some of a London friend’s rescued “Magdalens.” She had -been surprised at the almost fierce way Canterton had stamped on the -suggestion. - -“Thank you. You will do nothing of the kind.” - -It was not part of his dream that this speculative cottage that he had -built for Eve should be so used. - -Besides, every detail had been thought out to please eyes that sought -and found the beauty in everything. The little dining-room was to be -panelled oak, the window-seats were deep enough to make cushioned -lounges where one could lie and read. All the timber used was oak, from -the beams that were left showing in the ceiling to the panel-work of the -cupboards and the treads and newel-posts of the stairs. The -door-fittings were of hammered steel, the hearths laid with dark green -tiles. A little electric light plant was to be fitted, with a tiny gas -engine and dynamo in an outhouse behind the cottage. - -Canterton spent the greater part of Christmas morning wandering from -room to room, studying the views from the different windows, and -examining the work the men had put in during the previous week. He also -drew a trial plan of the garden, sitting on one of the window-seats, and -using a pencil and the back of a letter. Both cottage and garden were -parts of a piece of speculative devotion, and in them his strength found -self-expression. - -Meanwhile “the Bourgeois” of Clarendon Grove became very much more -talkative just about Christmas time. Eve met him at the corner of the -road on three successive mornings, and his person suggested holly -berries, roast beef, and a pudding properly alight. He seemed festive -and unable to help being confidential. - -“Suppose you’ll be going away to friends?” - -She told Mr. Parfit that she would be spending Christmas quite alone. - -“I say, that’s not good for you! What, no kids, and no party?” - -“No.” - -“Christmas isn’t Christmas without kids. I always go to my sister Jane’s -at Croydon. Good sort, Jane. Two boys and two girls. All healthy, too. -Makes you feel young to see them eat. I always go down on Christmas Eve -with a Tate’s sugar box full of presents. That’s the sort of Christmas -that suits me A1!” - -He looked at her benignantly. - -“Should you like to know Jane? She’s a good sort.” - -“I should like to know her.” - -“Look here! I’ll tell her to come and call on you. Do the social thing. -Pity you can’t join us all for Christmas. We’d soon make you feel at -home.” - -His eyes were a trifle apologetic, but very kind, and his kindness -touched her. He was quite sincere in what he said, and she discovered a -new sensitiveness in him. - -“It’s good of you to think of such a thing. One finds life rather lonely -at times. Croydon is a long way off, but perhaps your sister will come -and see me some day.” - -He began to talk very fast of a sudden. - -“Oh, you’d like Jane, and she’d like you, and the youngsters are jolly -kids, and not a bit spoilt. We must fix up the social business. I’m a -fool of a bachelor. I was made to be married, but somehow I haven’t. -Funny thing, life! One gets in a groove, and it takes something big to -get one out again.” - -He laughed, and wished her good morning rather abruptly, explaining that -he was going down to the City by train. - -Eve had felt touched, amused, and a little puzzled. She thought what an -excellent uncle he must make with the round, Christmas face, and the -Tate’s sugar-box full of presents. And on Christmas morning she found a -parcel from him lying on the breakfast table. - -He had sent her a big box of chocolates and two new novels, and had -written a note. It was a rather clumsy and apologetic note, but it -pleased her. - - “DEAR MISS CARFAX,—Please accept these trifles. I don’t know - whether you will think me an impertinent old fogey, but there - you are. I couldn’t send you a turkey, you know. Too large an - order for one. - - “I wish you were spending Christmas with us. Better luck next - year. - - “Very sincerely yours, - - “JOHN PARFIT.” - -Eve found it rather a struggle to pull through Christmas, and then, as -though for a contrast, came her disagreement with Hugh Massinger. It was -a serious disagreement, so serious that she took a taxi back to Bosnia -Road at three in the afternoon, angry, shocked, and still flushed with -scorn. - -She went down to Miss Champion’s next morning, and was immediately shown -into Miss Champion’s private room. The lady of the white hair and the -fresh face had put on the episcopal sleeves. She met Eve with an air of -detached and judicial stateliness, seated herself behind her roll-top -desk, and pointed Eve to a chair. - -“I have come to tell you that I have given up my secretaryship.” - -She had a feeling that Hugh Massinger had put in an early pleader, and -she was not surprised when Miss Champion picked up a letter that was -lying open on the desk. - -“This is a most deplorable incident, Miss Carfax.” - -Her tone challenged Eve. - -“It is more contemptible than deplorable!” - -“Mr. Massinger has written me a letter, a letter of apology and -explanation. Of course, I have nothing to say in defence of such -misunderstandings. But you actually struck him.” - -Eve’s face flamed. - -“Yes, you must understand——” - -“But I fail to understand.” - -“The man is a cad.” - -“Miss Carfax, these things don’t happen unless a woman is indiscreet. I -think I insisted on your remembering that a woman must be impersonal.” - -Eve was amazed. She had come to Miss Champion, counting on a woman’s -sympathy, and some show of decent scorn of a man who misused a situation -as Hugh Massinger had done. - -“Miss Champion, you suggest it was my fault.” - -“Mr. Massinger is a man of culture. He has written, giving me an -explanation. I do not say that I accept it in its entirety. But without -some provocation, thoughtless provocation, perhaps——” - -“May I see the letter?” - -“Certainly not. It is confidential.” - -“Of course, he accuses me? It was a cowardly thing—a mean thing.” - -“He offers explanations.” - -“Which you accept?” - -“With certain reservations, yes.” - -Eve held her breath. She felt humiliated, angry, and astonished. - -“I never thought it possible that you would take such a view as this.” - -“Let me explain, Miss Carfax, that I cannot help taking this view. I -have to insist on an absolutely impersonal attitude. My profession -cannot be carried on satisfactorily without it. I regret it, but I am -afraid you are not quite suited to delicate positions of -responsibility.” - -Eve said quietly, “Please don’t go into explanations. You would rather -not have me on your staff.” - -“I am a stickler for etiquette, rather old-fashioned. One has to be.” - -“Yes, I understand. So long as everything looks nice on the surface. I -think we had better say nothing more. I only came to tell you the truth, -and sometimes the truth is awkward.” - -She rose, biting her lip, and keeping her hands clenched. It was -monstrous, incredible, that this woman should be on the man’s side, and -that she should throw insinuations in her face. If she had surrendered -to Hugh Massinger and kept quiet, nothing would have been said, and -nothing might have happened. She felt nauseated, inflamed. - -“I am sorry, Miss Carfax——” - -“Oh, please don’t say that! It makes me feel more cynical.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX - - - EARNING A LIVING - - -The affair of Hugh Massinger, and Miss Champion’s attitude towards it, -provided Eve with an experience that threw a glare of new light upon the -life of a woman who sets out to earn her own living. She had no need to -go to the dramatists to be instructed, for she had touched the problem -with her own hands, and discovered the sexual hypocrisy that Kate Duveen -had always railed at. Here was she, lonely and struggling on the edge of -life, and a man of Hugh Massinger’s reputation and intelligence could do -nothing more honourable to help her than to suggest the advantages of a -sentimental seduction. Miss Champion, the woman, had failed to take the -woman’s part. Her middle-class cowardice was all for hushing things up, -for accusing the insulted girl of indiscretions, for reproaching her -with not failing to be a temptation to men. No smoke without some fire. -It was safer to discharge such a young woman than to defend her. And -Miss Champion’s nostrils were very shy and sensitive. She was an -automatic machine that reacted to any copper coin that could be called a -convention. Certain things never ought to happen, and if they happened -they never ought to be mentioned. - -This affair inaugurated hard times for Eve, nor did the bitterness that -it aroused in her help her to bear the new life with philosophy. It had -had something of the effect on her that the first discovery of sex has -upon a sensitive child. She felt disgusted, shocked, saddened. Life -would never be quite the same, at least, so she told herself, for this -double treachery had shaken her trust, and she wondered whether all men -were like Hugh Massinger, and all women careful hypocrites like Miss -Champion. - -She longed for Kate Duveen’s sharp and acrid sincerity. Hers was a -personality that might take the raw taste out of her mouth, but Eve did -not write to Kate to tell her what had happened. Her pride was still -able to keep its own flag flying, and it seemed contemptible to cry out -and complain over the first wound. - -One thing was certain, her income had stopped abruptly. She had about -thirty-five pounds left to her credit at the bank. The rent of her rooms -was a pound a week, and she found that her food cost her about twelve -shillings, this sum including the sixpenny lunches and fourpenny teas -that she had in the City. Putting her expenditure at thirty-five -shillings a week, she had enough money to last her for twenty weeks, -granted, of course, that nothing unexpected happened, and that she had -not to face a doctor’s bill. - -It behoved her to bustle round, to cast her net here, there, and -everywhere for work. She entered her name at several “Agencies,” but -found that the agents were none too sanguine when she had to confess -that she could neither write shorthand nor use a typewriter. Her -abilities were of that higher order whose opportunities are more -limited. People did not want artistic cleverness. The need was all for -drudges. - -During her first workless week at Bosnia Road, she designed a number of -fashion plates, and painted half a dozen little pictures. She called at -one of the despised picture shops, and suggested to the proprietor that -he might be willing to sell these pictures on commission. The -proprietor, a depressed and flabby dyspeptic, was not encouraging. - -“I could fill my window with that sort of stuff if I wanted to. People -don’t want flowers and country cottages. Can’t you paint pink babies and -young mothers, and all that?” - -Eve went elsewhere, and after many wanderings, discovered a gentleman in -the West Central district who was ready to show her pictures in his -window. He was a little more appreciative, and had a better digestion -than the man who had talked of babies. - -“Yes, that’s quite a nice patch of colour. I don’t mind showing them. -People sometimes like to get the real thing—cheap.” - -“What would one ask for a thing of this kind?” - -“Oh, half a crown to five shillings. One can’t expect much more.” - -“Not so much as for a joint of meat!” - -He was laconic. - -“Well, you see, miss, we’ve all got digestions, but not many of us have -taste.” - -Her next attempt was to dispose of some of her dress designs, and since -she had become familiar at Miss Champion’s with the names of certain -firms who were willing to buy such creations, she knew where to find a -possible market. It seemed wiser to call in person than to send the -designs by post, and she spent a whole day trying to interview -responsible persons in West End establishments. One firm rebuffed her -with the frank statement that they were over-supplied with such -creations. At two other places she was told to leave her designs to be -looked at. At her last attempt she succeeded in obtaining an interview -with a hungry-looking and ill-tempered elderly woman who was writing -letters in a little glass-panelled office at the back of a big shop. - -Eve disliked the woman from the first glance, but she was grateful to -her for having taken the trouble to give her an interview. - -“I wondered whether Messrs. Smith might have any use for designs for new -spring and summer frocks?” - -The woman looked at her from under cunning eyelids. - -“Sit down. Let me see.” - -Eve unwrapped the drawings and handed them to the person in authority, -who glanced through them as though she were shuffling a pack of cards. - -“Had any technical training? Not much, I think.” - -“I have lived in Paris.” - -“That’s an excuse, I suppose. There are one or two possible ideas here. -Leave the designs. I’ll consider them.” - -She laid them down on her desk and looked at Eve in a way that told her -that she was expected to go. - -“I had better leave my address.” - -“Isn’t it on the cards?” - -“No!” - -“Then write it.” - -She pushed a pen and ink towards Eve, and turned to resume the work that -had been interrupted. - -When Eve had gone, the good lady picked up the designs, looked them -carefully through, and then pushed the button of a bell in the wall -behind her. A flurried young woman with a snub nose, and untidy yellow -hair, came in. - -“Here, Miss Rush, copy those two. Then pack them all up and send them -back to the address written on that one. Say we’ve looked at them, and -that none are suitable.” - -The snub-nosed young woman understood, and two of Eve’s designs were -appropriated, at a cost to Messrs. Smith of twopence for postage. That -was good business. The whole batch was returned to Eve in the course of -three days, with a laconic type-written statement that the designs had -received careful consideration, but had been found to be unsuitable. - -She had not seen Mr. Parfit since the loss of her secretaryship, in -fact, not since Christmas, the morning walks to Highbury Corner having -become unnecessary. On the afternoon of the second Saturday in January, -Eve happened to be standing at her window, dressed to go out, when she -saw him strolling along the path on the other side of the road. He -glanced at her window as he passed, and, turning when he had gone some -thirty yards, came slowly back again. - -A sudden hunger for companionship seized her, a desire to listen to a -friendly voice, and to feel that she was not utterly alone. She hurried -out, drawing on her gloves, and found “the Bourgeois of Clarendon Grove” -on the point of repassing her doorway. - -He raised his hat, beamed, and came across. - -“Why, here you are! I hope you haven’t been ill?” - -“No.” - -“I began to get quite worried.” - -It gave her pleasure to find that someone had troubled to wonder what -had happened. - -“I have given up my post, and so I have no reason for starting out -early.” - -His round eyes studied her attentively. - -“Oh, that’s it!” - -He had sense enough not to begin by asking questions. - -“I was just going to take a breather round by the Fields. Suppose you’re -booked for something?” - -“No.” - -“Well, why shouldn’t I tell you all about Christmas! Jane’s coming to -look you up.” - -“That’s very good of her.” - -They started off together with a tacit acceptance of the situation, Mr. -Parfit showing an elaborate politeness in taking the outside of the -pavement. His whole air was that of a cheery and paternal bachelor on -his very best and most benignant behaviour. And Eve, without knowing -quite why, trusted him. - -“We had a gorgeous time down at Croydon.” - -“I’m so glad. I enjoyed the chocolates and the books. I suppose the -sugar-box was a great success?” - -“Rather! I had a joke with the kids. I had two lots of presents, one lot -on top, the other down below. Up above there were two pairs of socks for -Percy, a prayer-book for Fred, a box of needles and cottons for Beatie, -and a goody-goody book for Mab. You should have seen their faces, and -the way the little beggars tried to gush and do the polite. ‘Oh, uncle, -it’s just what I wanted!’ But it was all right down below. They found -the right sort of loot down there.” - -Eve laughed, and was surprised at the spontaneity of her own laughter. -She had not laughed like that for many weeks. - -“I think you must be a delightful uncle.” - -“Now, do you, really? It really makes it seem worth doing, you know. -You’d like the kids.” - -“I’m sure I should.” - -“They’re little sports, the lot of them.” - -She found presently that he was trying to turn the conversation towards -herself, and he manœuvred with more delicacy than she had imagined him -to possess. She met the attempt by making a show of frankness. - -“I did not like my berth, so I threw it up. Meanwhile I am trying to do -a little business in paintings and fashion plates, while I look out for -something else.” - -“Suppose you are rather particular?” - -“I don’t want to take just anything that comes, if I can help it.” - -“Of course not. You’ve got brains.” - -“I can’t do the ordinary things that women are supposed to do—type and -write shorthand and keep books.” - -She noticed that his expression had grown more serious. - -“We’re all for utility in these days, you know. Beastly unromantic -world. We can only get our adventures by reading novels. I’m sorry for -the girls who have to work. They don’t get fair opportunities, or a fair -starting chance, except the few who can afford to spend a little money -on special education. It’s no fun supplying cheap labour.” - -“I suppose not.” - -He drew a very deep and mind-deciding breath. - -“No offence meant, but if I can be of use at any time, just give me the -word.” - -“It’s very kind of you to say that.” - -“Nonsense, not a bit of it. We are both workers, aren’t we?” - -Some days Eve got panic. A great cloud shadow seemed to be drifting -towards her, and already she felt it chilling her, and shutting out the -sunlight. She asked herself what was going to happen if she spent all -her capital before she found a means of earning money regularly, and she -lay awake at night, plotting all manner of schemes. Her sense of -loneliness and isolation became a black cupboard into which Fate shut -her ever and again as a harsh nurse shuts up a disobedient child. She -thought of leaving Bosnia Road and of moving into cheaper quarters, and -she cut her economies to the lowest point. Even Mrs. Buss’s face -reflected her penuriousness, for the florid woman was less succulently -urbane, and showed a tendency to be curt and off-hand. - -Eve had begun to realise what a great city meant, with its agonies and -its struggles. It was like a huge black pool in which one went drifting -round and round with thousands of other creatures, clutching at straws, -and even at other struggling things in the effort to keep afloat. There -was always the thought of the ooze below, and the horror of submergence. -Sometimes this troubled mind-picture reminded her of the wreck of the -Titanic, with hundreds of little black figures swarming like beetles in -the water, drowning each other in the lust to live. It was when the -panic moods seized her that she was troubled by these morbid visions, -for one loses one’s poise at such times, and one’s fears loom big and -sinister as through a fog. - -She had sold one picture in a fortnight, and it had brought her exactly -three and sixpence. Her fashion-plates were returned. The various -agencies were able to offer her situations as a domestic servant, the -reality being indecently disguised under the description of “lady help.” -She rebelled at the suggestion, and even a panic mood could not reduce -her to considering that particular form of slavery, her pride turning -desperate and aggressive, and crying out that it would be better for her -to indulge in any sort of adventure, to turn suffragette and break -windows, rather than go into some middle-class household as an anomaly, -and be the victim of some other woman’s moods and prejudices. - -Certain assertions that Canterton had made to her developed a sharp and -vital significance. It ought not to be necessary for sensitive women to -have to go down and work in the shambles. Money is a protective -covering; art a mere piece of beautiful flimsiness that cannot protect -the wearer from cold winds and contempt. The love of money is nothing -more than the love of life and the harmony of full self-expression. Only -amazing luck or a curious concatenation of coincidences can bring -ability to the forefront when that ability starts with an empty pocket. -People do not want art, but only to escape from being bored. Most of -those who patronise any form of art do so for the sake of ostentation, -that their money and their success may advertise themselves. - -She realised now what she had lost in abandoning that life at Fernhill, -and she looked back on it as something very near the ideal, green, -spacious, sympathetic, free from all the mean and petty anxieties, a -life wherein she could express all that was finest in her, without -having to dissipate her enthusiasm on the butter-dish or the coal-box. -It had meant protection and comradeship. She was sufficiently human in a -feminine sense to feel the need of them, and there was a sufficiency of -the clinging spirit in her to make her regret that she had gained a -so-called independence. She was nearer now to discovering why some women -are loved and others ignored. Evolution has taught the male to feel -protective, and the expressing of this protective tenderness provides -man with one of the most beautifying experiences that life can give. The -aggressive and independent woman may satisfy a new steel-bright pride, -but she has set herself against one of the tendencies of Nature. Argue -as one may about evolving a new atmosphere, of redistributing the -factors of life, this old fact remains. The aggressive and independent -woman will never be loved in the same way. No doubt she will protest -that her aim is to escape from this conception of love—sexual -domination, that is what it has been dubbed, and rightly so in the -multitude of cases. But a cloud of contentions cannot damp out the -under-truth. The newmade woman will never challenge all that is best in -man. She will continue to remain in ignorance of what man is. - -Even in her panic moments Eve could not bring herself to write to -Canterton. She felt that she could not reopen the past, when it was she -who had closed it. She recoiled from putting herself in a position that -might make it possible for him to offer her money. - -One of the hardest parts of it all was that she had to live the whole -time with her anxious economies. She could not afford to escape from -them, to pay to forget. A shilling was a big consideration, a penny -every bit a penny. Once or twice, when she was feeling particularly -miserable, she let herself go to the desperate extent of a half-crown -seat in the pit. And the next day she would regret the extravagance, and -lunch on a scone and a glass of milk. - -Then Mr. Parfit appeared in the light of a provider of amusements. One -Thursday evening she had a note from him, written in his regular, -commercial hand. - - “DEAR MISS CARFAX,—I have three dress-circles for a matinée of - ‘The Lost Daughter’ on Saturday afternoon. Jane is coming up - from Croydon. Will you honour me by joining us? We might have a - little lunch at Frascati’s before the theatre. I shall be proud - if you accept, and I want you to meet Jane. - - “Very sincerely yours, - - “JOHN PARFIT.” - -She did accept, glad to escape from herself for an afternoon, and -refusing to ask herself any serious questions. Mr. Parfit was in great -spirits. Eve discovered “Sister Jane” to be a stout, blonde, -good-humoured woman with an infinite capacity for feeling domestic -affection. She studied Eve with feminine interest, and meeting her -brother’s eyes, smiled at him from time to time with motherly approval. - -The play was a British Public play, sentimentally sexual, yet guardedly -inoffensive. Eve enjoyed it. She found that John Parfit had to use his -handkerchief, and that he became thick in the throat. She did not like -him any the less for being capable of emotion. It seemed to be part of -his personality. - -Afterwards they had tea together, and Mr. Parfit’s benevolence became -tinged with affectionate playfulness. He made jokes, teased his sister, -and tried to make Eve enter into a guessing competition as to which -fancy cakes each would choose. - -She appreciated his discretion when he put her in a taxi, gave the -driver four shillings, and packed her off to Bosnia Road. He himself was -going to see Jane off at Charing Cross. Also, he and Jane had something -to discuss. - -“Well, old thing, how does she strike you?” - -“I’m a cautious soul, John, but I’m a woman, and we’re quick about other -women. She’s the right stuff, even if she’s clever, and a little proud. -It doesn’t do a girl any harm to have a little pride. Fine eyes, too, -and good style.” - -“I knew you’d think that.” - -“Did you now? What do you know about women, you great big baby?” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXX - - - MORE EXPERIENCES - - -January and February passed, and Eve’s capital dwindled steadily, with -no very obvious prospect of her being able to replenish it. She sold -three more small pictures, and had one or two dress designs accepted by -a woman’s journal, but these fragments of good fortune were more than -counterbalanced by a piece of knavish luck. One wet day, just as it was -getting dusk, she had her vanity-bag snatched from her. It contained -five pounds that she had drawn from the bank about half an hour before. -She never had another glimpse of the bag or of the thief. Her balance -had been reduced now to sixteen pounds, and all that she had foreseen in -her panic moods seemed likely to be fulfilled. - -Her diet became a diet of milk and buns, tea, stale eggs, and bread and -butter. She spent nothing on dress, and wore her shoes long after they -should have gone to the cobbler. She planned to do most of her own -washing at home, drying it in front of her sitting-room fire, and -putting up with the moist, steamy smell and her landlady’s contemptuous -face. Mrs. Buss’s affability was beginning to wear very thin, for it was -a surface virtue at its best. Poverty does not always inspire that human -pity that we read of in sentimental stories. Primitive peoples have a -horror of sickness and death, and civilisation has developed in many of -us a similar horror of tragic poverty. It is to be found both in people -who have struggled, and in those who have never had to struggle, and -Mrs. Buss belonged to the former class. To her, poverty was a sour smell -that associated itself with early and bitter memories. It brought back -old qualms of mean dread and envy. She had learnt to look on poverty as -a pest, and anyone who was contaminated with it became a source of -offence. She recognised all the symptoms in Eve’s pathetic little -economies, and straightway she began to wish her out of the house. - -Eve noticed that Mrs. Buss’s voice became a grumbling murmur when she -heard her talking to her son. Intuition attached a personal meaning to -these discontented reverberations, and intuition was not at fault. - -“I haven’t slaved all my life to let rooms to people who can’t pay! I -know how the wind blows! She’s getting that mean, meat once a week, and -a scuttle of coal made to last two days! Next thing’ll be that she’ll be -getting ill.” - -Albert was not interested, and his mother’s grumblings bored him. - -“Why don’t you turn her out?” - -“I shall have to wait till she’s short with her week’s money. And then, -you may have to wait a month or two before you can get another let. It’s -a noosance and a shame.” - -Eve began to answer the advertisements in one or two daily papers, and -to spend a few shillings in advertising on her own account. The results -were not encouraging. It seemed to be a meaner world than she had -imagined it to be, for people wanted to buy her body and soul for less -than was paid to an ordinary cook. In fact, a servant girl was an -autocrat, a gentlewoman a slave. She rebelled. She refused to be -sweated—refused it with passion. - -She advertised herself as willing to give painting lessons, but nothing -came of it, save that one of her advertisements happened to catch Mr. -Parfit’s eyes. Sister Jane had called, and her brother had taken Eve -twice to a theatre, and once to a concert. He dared to question her -solicitously about the ways and means of life. - -“How are you getting along, you know? Don’t mind me, I’m only -everybody’s uncle.” - -She did not tell him the worst. - -“I can’t quite get the thing I want.” - -“How many people are doing what they want to?” - -“Not many.” - -“One in a hundred. I wanted to be a farmer, and I’m stuck on a stool. We -grumble and grouse, but we have to put on the harness. Life’s like -that!” - -She was looking thin and ill, and he had noticed it. - -“Wait a bit. Seems to me I shall have to play the inquiring father. -You’re not playing the milk and bun game, are you?” - -“Sometimes.” - -He looked indignant, yet sympathetic. - -“That’s just what you women do, mess up your digestions with jam and tea -and cake. A doctor told me once that he had seen dozens of girls on the -edge of scurvy. You must feed properly.” - -“I get all I want.” - -His kindly, emotional nature burst into flame. - -“Now, Miss Carfax, you’ve just got to tell me if you’re wanting any -sympathy, sympathy of the solid sort, I mean. Don’t stand on ceremony. -I’m a man before I’m a ceremony.” - -She found herself flushing. - -“Thank you so much. I understand. I will tell you if I ever want to be -helped.” - -“Promise.” - -“Yes.” - -“That’s a dear, good girl.” - -Mrs. Buss’s prophetic pessimism was justified by the event. Raw weather, -leaky shoes and poor food may have helped in the overthrow, but early in -March Eve caught influenzal pneumonia. The whole house was overturned. A -trained nurse followed the doctor, and the nurse had to be provided with -a bed, Mr. Albert Buss being reduced to sleeping on a sitting-room sofa. -His mother’s grumbling now found a more ready echo in him. What was the -use of making oneself uncomfortable for the benefit of a nurse who was -plain and past thirty, and not worth meeting on the stairs? - -Mrs. Buss grumbled at the extra housework and the additional cooking. - -“Just my luck. Didn’t I say she’d get ill? She’ll have to pay me more a -week for doing for the nurse and having my house turned upside down.” - -But for the time being Eve was beyond the world of worries, lost in the -phantasies of fever, dazed by day, and delirious at night. She was bad, -very bad, and even the bored and harassed middle-class doctor allowed -that she was in danger, and might need a second nurse. But at the end of -the second week the disease died out of her, and she became sane and -cool once more, content to lie there in a state of infinite languor, to -think of nothing, and do nothing but breathe and eat and sleep. - -She found flowers on the table beside her bed. John Parfit had sent -them. He had discovered that she was seriously ill, and he had been -calling twice a day to inquire. Every evening a bunch of flowers, roses, -violets, or carnations, was brought up to her, John Parfit leaving them -at Bosnia Road on his way home from the City. - -Eve would lie and look at the flowers without realising all that they -implied. Illness is often very merciful to those who have cares and -worries. It dulls the consciousness, and brooking no rival, absorbs the -sufferer into a daze of drowsiness and dreams. The body, in its feverish -reaction to neutralise the poison of disease, is busy within itself, and -the mind is drugged and left to sleep. - -As her normal self returned to her, Eve began to cast her eyes upon the -life that had been broken off so abruptly, and she discovered, to her -surprise, that the things that had worried her no longer seemed to -matter. She felt numb, lethargic, too tired to react to worries. She -knew now that she had not been far from death, and the great shadow -still lay near to her, blotting out all the lesser shadows, so that they -were lost in it. - -All the additional expense that she was incurring, the presence of the -nurse, John Parfit’s flowers, Mrs. Buss’s grumbling voice, all these -phenomena seemed outside the circle of reality. She recognised them, -without reacting to them. So benumbed was she that the idea of spending -so much money did not frighten her. - -She managed to write a cheque, and the nurse cashed it for her when she -went for her daily walk. - -Mrs. Buss’s accounts were asked for and sent up, and Eve did not feel -one qualm of distress when she glanced at the figures and understood -that her landlady was penalising her mercilessly for being ill. She paid -Mrs. Buss, and turned her attention to the doctor. - -“You won’t mind my mentioning it, but I shall be very grateful if you -will let me know what I owe you.” - -He was a thin man, with a head like an ostrich’s, and a jerky, harassed -manner. Struggle was written deep all over his face and person. His wife -inked out the shiny places on his black coat, and he walked everywhere, -and did not keep a carriage. - -“That’s all right, that’s all right!” - -“But I am serious. You see, with a limited income, one likes to meet -things as they come.” - -“Oh, well, if it will please you. But I haven’t quite finished with you -yet.” - -“I know. But you won’t forget?” - -Poor devil! He was not in a position to forget anyone who owed him -money. - -The nurse went, having swallowed up six guineas. The doctor’s bill came -in soon after Eve had moved downstairs to her sitting-room. It amounted -to about three pounds, and Eve paid it by cheque. Another weekly bill -from Mrs. Buss confronted her, running the doctor’s account to a close -finish. Eve realised, after scribbling a few figures, that she was left -with about four pounds to her credit. - -She was astonished at her own apathy. This horror that would have sent a -chill through her a month ago, now filled her with a kind of languid and -cynical amusement. The inertia of her illness was still upon her, -dulling the more sensitive edge of her consciousness. - -A week after she had come downstairs she went out for her first walk. It -was not altogether a wise proceeding, especially when its psychological -effects showed themselves. She walked as far as Highbury Corner, felt -the outermost ripples of the London mill-pond, and promptly awoke. - -That night she had a relapse and was feverish, but it was no longer a -restful, drowsy fever, but a burning and anxious torment. Life, the -struggling, fitful, mean, contriving life was back in her blood, with -all its dreads intensified and exaggerated. She felt the need of -desperate endeavour, and was unable to stir in her own cause. It was -like a dream in which some horror approaches, and one is unable to run -away. - -She was another week in bed, but she did not send for the doctor. And at -the end of the week she met Mrs. Buss’s last bill. It left her with -three shillings and fourpence in cash. - -In seven days she would be in debt to her landlady, to the red-faced, -grumbling woman whose insolent dissatisfaction was already showing -itself. - -Well, how was she to get the money? What was she to do? - -There was the sign of the Three Balls. She had a few rings and trinkets -and her mother’s jewellery, such as it was. Also, she could dispose of -the studio. - -Lastly, there was John Parfit—John Parfit, who was still sending her -flowers. She had had a note from him. He wanted to be allowed to come -and see her. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI - - - THE BOURGEOIS PLAYS THE GENTLEMAN - - -The Saturday on which John Parfit came to see Eve was one of those -premature spring days that makes one listen for the singing of birds. -The little front garden was full of sunlight, and a few crocuses -streaked the brown earth under the window. The Bourgeois arrived with a -great bunch of daffodils, their succulent stems wrapped in blue tissue -paper. - -“Well, how are you now? How are you? Brought you a few flowers!” - -He was shy with the shyness of a big, good-natured creature who was slow -to adapt himself to strange surroundings. A feminine atmosphere had -always rendered John Parfit nervous and inarticulate. He could talk like -a politician in an office or a railway carriage, but thrust him into a -drawing-room with a few women, and he became voiceless and futile. - -“Well, how are we?” - -He put his top-hat on the table, and stood the flowers in it as though -it were a vase. - -“But your poor hat!” - -“Why, what’s the matter?” - -“They are such sappy things. I must thank you for all the flowers. They -helped me to get well.” - -He removed the daffodils, and wandered round the room till he found an -empty pot that agreed to rid him of them. - -“Don’t you bother—don’t you get up! I’ll settle them all right.” - -He came back to the fire, rubbing his hands and smiling. The smile died -a sudden death when he dared to take his first good look at Eve, and -with it much of his self-consciousness seemed to vanish. He sat down -rather abruptly, staring. - -“I say, you have had a bad time!” - -“I’m afraid I have.” - -She looked thin, and ill, and shadowy, and plain, and her eyes were the -eyes of one who was worried. A tremulous something about her mouth, the -droop of her neck, the light on her hair, stirred in John Parfit an -inarticulate compassion. The man in him was challenged, appealed to, -touched. - -“I say, you’ve been bad, you know!” - -“But I’m getting better.” - -“You’re—you’re so white and thin!” - -He spoke in an awed voice, his glance fixed on one of her hands that -rested on the arm of her chair. - -“I wanted to have a talk, you know. But I shall tire you.” - -“No.” - -She heard him draw a big breath. - -“Look here, I’m a fool at expressing myself, but you’ve been having a -bad time. I mean, as to the money. Beastly thing money. I’ve guessed -that. Seems impertinent of me, but, by George! well, I can’t help it. -It’s upset me, seeing you like this. It’s made me start saying something -I didn’t mean to mention.” - -He was out of breath, and sat watching her for one dumb, inarticulate -moment, his hands clenched between his knees. - -“Look here, you may think me a fool, but I tell you one thing, I can’t -stand the thought of a girl like you having to scrape and scramble. I -can’t stand it. And I shouldn’t have had the cheek, but for feeling like -this. I’ll just blurt it out. I’ve been thinking of it for weeks. Look -here, let me take care of you—for life, I mean. I’m not a bad sort, and -I don’t think I shall be a selfish beast of a husband. There’s nothing I -won’t do to make you happy.” - -He sat on the edge of the chair, his hands still clenched between his -knees. As for Eve, she was distressed, touched, and perhaps humbled. She -told herself suddenly that she had not faced this man fairly, that she -had not foreseen what she ought to have foreseen. The room felt close -and hot. - -“I say, I haven’t offended you? It mayn’t seem quite sporting, talking -like this, when you’ve been ill, but, by George! I couldn’t help it.” - -She said very gently: - -“How could I be offended? Don’t you know that you are doing me a very -great honour?” - -“Oh, I say, do you mean it?” - -“Of course.” - -Eve saw a hand come out tentatively and then recede, and in a flash she -understood what the possible nearness of this man meant to her. She -shivered, and knew that in the intimate physical sense he would be -hopelessly repellent. She could not help it, even though he had touched -her spiritually, and made her feel that there were elements of fineness -in him that were worthy of any woman’s trust. - -He had been silent for some seconds, and his emotions could not be -stopped now that they were discovering expression. - -“Look here, I’m forty-six, and I’m going bald, but I’m a bit of a boy -still. I was made to be married, but somehow I didn’t. I’ve done pretty -well in business. I’ve saved about seven thousand pounds, and I’m making -nine hundred a year. You ought to know. I’m ready to do anything. We -could take a jolly little house out somewhere—Richmond, or Hampstead, -say, the new garden place. And I don’t know why we shouldn’t keep a -little motor, or a trap. Of course, I’m telling you this, because you -ought to know. I’m running on ahead rather, but it’s of no consequence. -I only want you to know what’s what.” - -He was out of breath again, and she sat and stared at the fire. His rush -of words had confused her. It was like being overwhelmed with food and -water after one had been dying of hunger and thirst and fear in a -desert. His essential and half pathetic sincerity went to her heart, nor -could she help her gratitude going out to him. Not for a moment did she -think of him as a fat, commonplace sentimentalist, a middle-aged fool -who fell over his own feet when he tried to make love. He was more than -a good creature. He was a man who had a right to self-expression. - -She rallied her will-power. - -“I don’t know what to say to you. I suppose I am feeling very weak.” - -He rushed into self-accusation. - -“There, I’ve been a selfish beast. I oughtn’t to have come and upset you -like this. But I couldn’t help telling you.” - -“I know. It hasn’t hurt me. But you have offered me such a big thing, -that I am trying to realise it all. I don’t think I’m made for -marriage.” - -“Oh, don’t say that! I know I’m a blundering idiot!” - -“No, no, it is not you! It is marriage.” - -“You don’t believe in marriage?” - -“Not that. I mean, for myself. I don’t think I could make you understand -why.” - -He looked puzzled and distressed. - -“It’s my fault. I couldn’t do the thing delicately. I’m clumsy.” - -“No, no. I have told you that it is not that.” - -“Well, you think it over. Supposing we leave it till you get stronger?” - -“But you are offering everything and I nothing.” - -“Nonsense! Besides, I don’t believe in marrying a woman with money. I’d -rather have the business on my own back. Of course, I should settle two -or three thousand on you, you know, so that you would have a little -income for pin-money. I think that’s only fair to a woman.” - -She coloured and felt guilty. - -“I think you are more generous than fair. Don’t say any more. I’ll—I’ll -think it over.” - -He got up and seized his hat. - -“That’s it—that’s it. You think it over! I’m not one of those fellows -who thinks that a woman is going to rush at him directly he says come. -It means a lot to a woman, a dickens of a lot. And you’re not quite -yourself yet, are you? It’s awfully good of you to have listened.” - -He reached for her hand, bent over it with cumbrous courtesy, and -covered up a sudden silence by getting out of the room as quickly as he -could. - -When John Parfit had gone, Eve lay back in her chair with a feeling of -intense languor. All the strength and independence seemed to melt out of -her, and she lay like a tired child on the knees of circumstance. - -And then it was that she was tempted—tempted in this moment of -weariness, by the knowledge that a way of escape lay so very near. She -had been offered a protected life, food, shelter, a generous allowance, -love, leisure, all that the orthodox woman is supposed to desire. He was -kind, understanding in his way, reliable, a man whose common sense was -to be trusted, and he would take her away from this paltry scramble, -pilot her out of the crowd, and give her an affection that would last. -Her intuition recognised the admirable husband in him. This middle-class -man had a rich vein of sentiment running through his nature, and he was -not too clever or too critical to tire. - -Dusk began to fall, and the fire was burning low. It was the hour for -memories, and into the dusk of that little suburban room, glided a -subtle sense of other presences, and she found herself thinking of -Canterton and the child. If she were to have a child like Lynette. But -it could not be Lynette—it could not be his child, the child of that -one man. She sat up, shocked and challenged. What was she about to do? -Sell herself. Promise to give something that it was not in her power to -give. Deceive a man who most honestly loved her. It would be -prostitution. There was only one man living to whom she could have -granted complete physical comradeship. She was not made to be touched by -other hands. - -She rose and lit the gas, and sat down at the table to write a letter. -She would tell John Parfit the truth; put the shame of temptation out of -her way. - -It was not a long letter, but it came straight from her heart. No man -could be offended by it—hurt by it. It was human, honourable, a tribute -to the man to whom it was written. - -When she had addressed and stamped it, she rang the bell for Mrs. Buss. - -“I should be very much obliged if you could have this posted for me.” - -Mrs. Buss was affable, having smelt matrimony and safe money. - -“Certainly, miss. I’ll send Albert down to the pillar-box. Excuse me -saying it; but you do look pounds better. You’ve got quite a colour.” - -And she went out, simpering. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII - - - EVE DETERMINES TO LEAVE BOSNIA ROAD - - -After she had written to John Parfit, Eve kept the promise she had made -to Kate Duveen, but qualified her confession by an optimism that took -the sting out of the truths that she had to tell. She made light of the -Massinger affair, even though she had some bitter things to say about -Miss Champion. “One learns to expect certain savageries from the -ordinary sort of man, but it shocks one when a woman makes you bear all -the responsibility, so that she may not offend a patron. That was the -really sordid part of the experience.” She hinted vaguely that someone -wanted to marry her, but that she had no intention of marrying. She made -light of her illness, and wrote of her financial experiences with -cynical gaiety. “My landlady’s face is a barometer that registers the -state of my weather. Of late, the mercury has been low. Another woman -whom I can manage to pity! Do not think that I am in a parlous and -desperate state. I want to go through these experiences. They give one a -sense of proportion, and teach one the value of occasional recklessness. -We are not half reckless enough, we moderns. We are educated to be too -careful. In future, I may contemplate adventures.” - -It is probable that John Parfit’s proposal and its psychological effects -on her rallied her pride, for she threw off the lethargy of -convalescence, and turned anew to meet necessity. John Parfit had -answered her letter by return, and he had succeeded in fully living up -to his ideal of what was “sport.” “Playing the game,”—that is the -phrase that embodies the religion of many such a man as John Parfit. - - “Nothing could have made me admire you more than the straight - way you have written. Nothing like the truth. It may be bitter, - but it’s good physic. Well, I shall be here. Think it over. It’s - the afterwards in marriage that counts, not the courting, and - I’d do my best to make the afterwards what it should be. - - “You’ll let me see you sometimes, won’t you? I shan’t bother - you. I’m not a conceited ass, and I’ll wait and take my chance.” - -March winds and more sunshine were in evidence, and the weather had a -drier and more energetic temper. Eve started out on expeditions. She -took two rings, a gold watch, and a coral necklace to a pawnshop in -Holloway, and raised three pounds on the transaction. It amused her, -tucking the pawn-ticket away in her purse. These last refuges are -supposed to have a touch of the melodramatic, but she discovered that -expectation had been harder to bear than the reality, and that just as -one is disappointed by some eagerly longed for event, so the disaster -that one dreads turns out to be a very quiet experience, relieved -perhaps by elements of humour. - -She paid Mrs. Buss’s weekly bill, and studied the woman’s recovered -affability with cynical tolerance. Mrs. Buss still believed her to be on -the way towards matrimony, and somehow a woman who is about to be -married gains importance, possibly because other women wonder what she -will make of that best and most problematical of states. - -It is easy to raise money on some article of value, but it is a much -harder matter to persuade people to offer money in return for the -activities that we call work. Eve went the round of the agencies without -discovering anything that could be classed above the level of cheap -labour. There seemed to be no demand for artistic ability. At least, she -did not chance upon the demand if it happened to exist. Her -possibilities seemed to be limited to such posts as lady help or -companion, posts that she had banned as the uttermost deeps of slavery. -A factory worker was far more free. She could still contemplate sinking -some of her pride, and starting life as a shop-girl, a servant, or a -waitress. - -At one agency the manageress, whose lack of patience made her tell the -brusque truth on occasions, went so far as to suggest that Eve might -take a place as parlourmaid in a big house. She had a smart figure and a -good appearance. Some people were dispensing with menservants, and were -putting their maids into uniform and making them take the place of -butler and footman. The position of such a servant was preferable to the -lot of a lady-help. Wouldn’t Eve think it over? - -Eve said she would. She agreed with the manageress in thinking that -there were gleams of independence in such a life, especially when one -had gained a character and experience, learnt to look after silver and -to know about wines. - -None the less, she was discouraged and rebellious, and on her way home -after one of these expeditions, she fell in with John Parfit. It was the -man of six-and-forty who blushed, not Eve. She had to help him over the -stile of his self-consciousness. - -“Yes, I am ever so much better. Won’t you walk a little way with me? -I’ve had tea, and I thought of having a stroll round the Fields.” - -He put himself at her side with laborious politeness, and because of his -shyness he could do nothing more graceful than blurt out questions. - -“Got what you want yet?” - -“No, not yet.” - -He frowned to himself. - -“Not worrying, are you?” - -“I’m learning not to worry. Nothing is as bad as it seems.” - -He looked at her curiously, puzzled, and troubled on her account. - -“It’s a matter of temperament. Perhaps you are not one of the worrying -sort.” - -“But I am. One finds that one can learn not to worry about the things -that just concern self. The thing that does worry us is the thought that -we may make other people suffer any loss.” - -He said bluntly, “Bills?” - -Eve laughed. - -“In brief, bills. But I am perfectly solvent, and I could get work -to-morrow if I chose to take it.” - -“But you don’t. It’s pride.” - -“Yes, pride.” - -He walked on beside her in his solid, broad-footed way, staring straight -ahead, and keeping silent for fully half a minute. - -Then he said abruptly: - -“It hasn’t made any difference, you know.” - -It was her turn to feel embarrassed. - -“But you understood——” - -“Yes, I understood all right. But I want to say just this, I respect you -all the more for having been straight with me, and if you’ll let me have -a waiting chance, I’ll make the best of it. I won’t bother you. I’ve got -a sense of proportion. I’m not the sort of man a woman would get -sentimental over in a hurry.” - -Her eyes glimmered. - -“You are one of the best men I have ever met. In a city of cads, it is -good to find a man who has a sense of honour.” - -He went very red, and seemed to choke something back. - -“I shan’t forget that in a hurry. But look here, put the other thing -aside, and let’s just think of ourselves as jolly good friends. Now, I -want you to let me do some of the rough and tumble for you. I’m used to -it. One gets a business skin.” - -“I am not going to bother you.” - -“Bosh! And if you happen to want—well, you know what, any of the -beastly stuff we pay our bills with——” - -She began to show her distress. - -“Don’t, please. I know how generously you mean it all, but I’m so made -that I can’t bear to be helped, even by you. Just now my pride is raw, -and I want to go alone through some of these experiences. You may think -it eccentric.” - -He stared hard at nothing in particular. - -“I don’t know. I suppose it’s in the air. Women are changing.” - -“No, don’t believe that. It’s only some of the circumstances of life -that are changing, and we are altering some of our methods. That’s what -life is teaching me. That’s why I want to go on alone. I shall learn so -much more.” - -“I should have thought that most people would fight shy of learning in -such a school.” - -“Yes, and that is why most of us remain so narrow and selfish and -prejudiced. We refuse to touch realities, and we won’t understand. I -want to understand.” - -He walked on, expanding his chest, and looking as though he were -smothering a stout impulse to protest. - -“All right; I see. Anyway, I shall be round the corner. You won’t forget -that, will you?” - -“No, for you have helped me already.” - -“Have I?” - -“Of course. It always helps to be able to believe in someone.” - -Three days later Eve rang for Mrs. Buss and had an interview with the -woman. She was amused to find that she herself had hardened perceptibly, -and that she could lock her sentiments away when the question was a -question of cash. - -Her frankness astonished Mrs. Buss. - -“I want to explain something to you. I mean to stay here for another -three weeks, but I have no more money.” - -The landlady gaped, not knowing whether this was humour or mere -barefaced self-confidence. - -“You’re going to be married, then?” - -“No.” - -“You say you haven’t any money, and you expect me——” - -“There is the studio.” - -“A shed like that’s no use to me.” - -“It cost me about twenty-five pounds, with the stove and fittings, and -it is only a few months old. It is made to take to pieces. Shall I sell -it, or will you? I was thinking that it might be worth your while.” - -Mrs. Buss discovered glimmerings of reason. An incipient, sly smile -glided round her mouth. - -“Oh, I see! You think I could drive a better bargain?” - -“I do.” - -The middle-class nature was flattered. - -“You’ll be owing me about four pounds ten. And we might get twelve or -thirteen pounds for the studio.” - -It was studio now, not shed. - -“Yes. I shall pay your bill, and give you a fifteen per cent. commission -on the sale. Do you know anyone who might buy it?” - -“I’m not so sure, miss, that I don’t.” - -Mrs. Buss’s eyes were so well opened that she put on her bonnet, went -round to a local builder’s, and, telling him a few harmless fibs, -persuaded him to buy the studio and its stove for thirteen pounds ten. -The builder confessed, directly they had completed the bargain, that the -studio was the very thing a customer of his wanted. He said he would -look round next day and see the building, and that if he found it all -right, he would hand over the money. He came, saw, and found nothing to -grumble at, and before the day was out he had resold the studio for -twenty pounds, stating blandly that it had originally cost thirty-five -pounds, and that it was almost new, and that the gentleman had got a -bargain. - -Mrs. Buss brought the money to Eve, one five pound note, eight -sovereigns, and ten shillings in silver, and Eve handed over four -pounds, and the commission. - -“We can settle for any odds and ends when I go.” - -“Thank you, miss. I may say you have treated me very fairly, miss. And -would you mind if I put up a card in the window?” - -“No.” - -“You see, it’s part of my living. If one loses a week or two, it’s -serious.” - -“Of course.” - -So a card with “Apartments” printed on it went up in Eve’s window, -helping her to realise that the term of her sojourn in Bosnia Road was -drawing to a close. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII - - - WOMAN’S WAR - - -It was during these last weeks at Bosnia Road that Eve became fully -conscious of that spirit of revolt that is one of the dominating -features of contemporary life, for she was experiencing in her own -person the thoughts and tendencies of a great movement, suffering its -discontents, feeling its hopes and passions. - -When she tried to analyse these tendencies in herself, she was -confronted with the disharmonies of her life, disharmonies that reacted -all the more keenly on a generous and impulsive nature. She was -necessary to nobody, not even to the man who had thought that it would -be pleasant to marry her, for she knew that in a month he would be as -contented as ever with his old bachelor life. She had no personal -corner, no sacred place full of the subtle and pleasant presence of the -individual “I.” She had none of the simple and primitive -responsibilities that provide many women with a natural and organic -satisfaction. - -A new class had arisen, the class of the unattached working women, and -she was sharing the experiences of thousands. It was a sense of -defencelessness that angered her. She had no weapon. She could only -retaliate upon society by shutting her mouth and holding her head a -little higher. Her individuality was threatened. She was denied the -chance of living a life of self-expression, and was told with casual -cynicism that she must do such work as society chose to offer her, or -starve. - -Of course, there were the chances of escape, the little, secret, fatal -doorways that men were willing to leave open. Some women availed -themselves of these opportunities, nor was Eve so prejudiced as to -imagine that all women were martyrs and less hot blooded than the men. -She had had the same doors opened to her. She might have become a -mistress, or have married a man who was physically distasteful to her, -and she understood now why many women were so bitter against anything -that was male. It was not man, but the sex spirit, and all its meaner -predilections. - -Ninety-nine men out of a hundred concerned themselves with nothing but a -woman’s face and figure. They reacted to physical impressions, and Eve -realised the utter naturalness of it all. The working woman had got -outside the old conventions. She was trying to do unsexual things, and -to talk an unsexual language to men who had not changed. It was like -muddling up business and sentiment, and created an impossible position, -so long as the male nature continued to react in the way it did. Sexual -solicitation or plain indifference, these were the two extreme fates -that bounded the life of the working woman. - -Eve told herself that there were exceptions, but that society, in the -mass, moved along these lines. She had listened to Kate Duveen—Kate -Duveen, who was a fanatic, and who had made it her business to look into -the conditions under which working women lived. The shop-girl, the -servant, the waitress, the clerk, the typist, the chorus-girl, the -street-walker; always they held in their hands the bribe that men -desired, that bribe so fatal to the woman when once it had been given. -Eve began to understand the spirit of revolt by the disgust that was -stirred in her own heart. This huge sexual machine. This terrible, -primitive groundwork upon which all the shades of civilisation were -tagged like threads of coloured silk. There was some resemblance here -between the reaction of certain women against sex, and the reaction of -the early Christians against the utter physical smell of the Roman -civilisation. To live, one must be born again. One must triumph over the -senses. One must refuse to treat with men on the old physical -understanding. They are the cries of extremists, and yet of an extremity -that hopes to triumph by urging a passionate and protesting celibacy. A -million odd women in the United Kingdom, over-setting the sex balance, -and clamouring, many of them, that they will not be weighed in the old -sexual scale. - -Eve caught the spirit of rebellion, divorced as she was from any -comradeship with men. It is so much easier to quarrel with the -hypothetical antagonists whom one meets in the world of one’s own brain. -Bring two prejudiced humans together, get them to talk like reasonable -beings, and each may have some chance of discovering that the other is -not the beast that he or she had imagined. It is when masses of people -segregate and refuse to mix that war becomes more than probable. - -Insensibly, yet very surely, Eve began to imbibe this feeling of -antagonism. It made her take sides, even when she happened to read the -account of some law case in the paper. And this tacit antagonism abetted -her in her refusal to accept the cheap labour that society, “male -society,” she called it, chose to offer her. It behoved women to stand -out against male exploitation, even if they had to suffer for the -moment. Yet her revolt was still an individual revolt. She had not -joined herself to the crowd. She wanted to complete her personal -experiences before associating herself with the great mass of -discontent, and she meant to go through to the end—to touch all the -realities. Perhaps she was a little feverish in her sincerity. She had -been ill. She had been badly fed. She had been worried, and she was in a -mood that demanded that specious sort of realism that is to the truth -what a statue is to the living body. - -Her last morning at Bosnia Road turned out to be warm and sunny. She was -ready to smile at contrasts, and to draw them with a positive and -perverse wilfulness. Breakfast was just like other breakfasts, only -different. The brown teapot with the chip out of its lid stood there, -familiar yet ironical. The marmalade dish, with its pinky roses and -silver-plated handle that was wearing green, reminded her that it would -meet her eyes no more. The patchwork tea-cosy was like a fat and -sentimental old lady who was always exclaiming, “Oh, dear, what a wicked -world it is!” Even the egg-cup, with its smudgy blue pattern, had a -ridiculous individuality of its own. Eve felt a little emotional and -more than a little morbid, and ready to laugh at herself because a -teapot and an egg-cup made her moralise. - -She had packed all her belongings, paid Mrs. Buss, and ordered a -“growler” to call at half-past ten. The cabman was punctual. He came -into the narrow hall, rubbing his boots on the doormat, a cheerful -ancient, a bolster of clothes, and looking to be in perpetual proximity -to breathlessness and perspiration. He laid his old top-hat on the floor -beside the staircase, and went up to struggle with Eve’s boxes. - -Mrs. Buss had let Eve’s rooms, and had nothing to complain of. For the -time being her attention was concentrated on seeing that the cabman did -not knock the paint off the banisters. - -“Do be careful now!” - -A red-faced man was descending under the shadow of a big black trunk. - -“All right, mum. Don’t you worry, mum!” - -He breathed hard and diffused a scent of the stable. - -“Them chaps as builds ’ouses don’t think of the luggidge and -foornitoore. ’Old up, there!” - -A corner of the trunk jarred against the wall and left a gash in the -paper. Mrs. Buss made a clucking sound with her tongue. - -“There, didn’t I say!” - -“Did I touch anythink?” - -“Now, mind the hat-stand! And the front door was painted three months -ago.” - -“Don’t you worry, mum. It ain’t the first time luggidge and me ’as gone -out walkin’ together!” - -Mrs. Buss turned to Eve who was standing in the sitting-room doorway. - -“That’s just the British working-man to a T. He earns his living by -doing one thing all his life, and he does it badly. My poor husband -found that out before he died. I do hope I’ve made you feel comfortable -and homely? I always try to do my best.” - -“I’m sure you do.” - -She was glad when the loading up business was over, and she was driving -away between the dull little houses. - -Eve had written to book a room at a cheap hotel in Bloomsbury, an hotel -that had been brought into being by the knocking together of three -straight-faced, dark-bricked old houses. She drove first to the hotel, -left a light trunk and a handbag there, and then ordered the cabman to -go on to Charing Cross where she left the rest of her luggage in the -keeping of the railway company. - -A sudden sense of freedom came over her when she walked out of the -station enclosure, after paying and tipping the driver of the growler, -who was surprised at the amount of the tip. She had been delivered from -suburbia, and her escape from Bosnia Road made her the more conscious of -the largeness and the stimulating complexity of life. She felt a new -exhilaration, and a sense of adventure that glimpsed more spacious -happenings. It was more like the mood that is ascribed to the young man -who rides out alone, tossing an audacious sword. - -Eve decided to treat herself to a good lunch for once, and she walked to -Kate Duveen’s Italian restaurant in Soho, and amplified and capped the -meal with a half bottle of claret, coffee, and a liqueur. She guessed -that she had plenty of Aerated Bread shop meals before her. After lunch -she took a motor-bus to the Marble Arch, wandered into the park, and -down to the Serpentine, and discovering an empty seat, took the -opportunity of reviewing her finances. She found that she had five -pounds sixteen shillings and fivepence left. The Bloomsbury hotel -charged four and sixpence for bed and breakfast, and she would be able -to stay there for some three weeks, if she had the rest of her meals at -tea-shops and cheap restaurants. - -Eve sat there for an hour, watching the glimmer of the water and the -moving figures, growing more and more conscious of the vast, subdued -murmur that drifted to her from beyond the bare trees. Neither the pitch -nor the volume of the sound varied, though it was pierced now and again -by the near note of a motor horn. The murmur went on and on, grinding -out its under-chant that was made up of the rumbling of wheels, the -plodding of hoofs, the hooting of horns, the rattle and pant of -machinery, the voices of men and women. This green space seemed a spot -of silence in the thick of a whirl of throbbing, quivering movement. She -had always hated London traffic, but to-day it had something to say to -her. - -The sun shone, the spring was in, and it was warm there, sitting on the -seat. The water blinked, sparrows chirped, waterfowl uttered their -cries, children played, daffodils were in bloom. Eve felt herself moving -suddenly to a fuller consciousness of modern life. Her brain seemed to -pulsate with it, to glow with a new understanding. - -Conquest! She could understand the feverish and half savage passion for -conquest that seized many men. To climb above the crowd, to get money, -to assert one’s individuality, brutally perhaps, but at all costs and -against all comers. People got trampled on, trodden under. It was a -stampede, and the stronger and the more selfish animals survived. Yet -society had some sort of legal conscience. It had to make some show of -clearing up its rubbish and its wreckage. The pity of it was that there -was so much “afterthought,” when “forethought” might have saved so much -disease and disaster. - -She pictured to herself all those women and girls working over yonder, -the seamstresses and milliners, the clerks, typists, shop-girls, -waitresses, factory hands, _filles de joie_—what a voiceless, helpless -crowd it seemed. Was the clamour for the vote a mere catch cry, one of -those specious demagogic phrases that pretended to offer so much and -would effect so little? Was it not the blind, passionate cry of a mass -of humanity that desired utterance and yearned for self-expression? -Could anything be altered, or was life just a huge, fateful phenomenon -that went its inevitable way, despite all the talk and the fussy little -human figures? She wondered. How were things going to be bettered? How -were the sex spirit and the commercial spirit going to be chastened and -subdued? - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV - - - EVE PURSUES EXPERIENCE - - -During the next two weeks Eve’s moods fluctuated between compassionate -altruism and bitter and half laughing scorn. Life was so tremendous, so -pathetic, so strenuous, so absurd. For the time being she was a watcher -of other people’s activities, and she spent much of her time tramping -here, there and everywhere, interested in everything because of her new -prejudices. She was glad to get out of the hotel, since it was full of a -certain type of American tourists—tall, sallow women who talked in -loud, harsh voices, chiefly about food and the digestion of food, where -they had been, and what they had paid for things. The American man was a -new type to Eve—a mongrel still in the making. The type puzzled and -repelled her with its broad features, and curious brown eyes generally -seen behind rimless glasses. Sometimes she sat and watched them and -listened, and fancied she caught a note of hysterical egoism. Their -laughter was not like an Englishman’s laughter. It burst out suddenly -and rather fatuously, betraying, despite all the jaw setting and grim -hunching of shoulders, a lack of the deeper restraints. They were always -talking, always squaring themselves up against the rest of the world, -with a neurotic self-consciousness that realised that it was still only -half civilised. They suggested to Eve people who had set out to absorb -culture in a single generation, and had failed most grotesquely. She -kept an open mind as to the men, but she disliked the women -wholeheartedly. They were studies in black and white, and crude, harsh -studies, with no softness of outline. - -One Sunday she walked to Hyde Park and saw some of the suffragist -speakers pelted with turf by a rowdily hostile crowd. The occasion -proved to be critical, so far as some of her tendencies were concerned. -Militancy had not appealed to her. There was too much of the “drunk and -disorderly” about it, too much spiteful screaming. It suggested a -reversion to savage, back-street methods, and Eve’s pride had refused to -indulge in futile and wholly undignified exhibitions of violence. There -were better ways of protesting than by kicking policemen’s shins, -breaking windows, and sneaking about at midnight setting fire to houses. -Yet when she saw these women pelted, hooted at, and threatened, the -spirit of partisanship fired up at the challenge. - -She was on the outskirts of the crowd, and perhaps her pale and intent -face attracted attention. At all events, she found a lout, who looked -like a young shop-assistant, standing close beside her, and staring in -her face. - -“Votes for women!” - -His ironical shout was an accusation, and his eyes were the eyes of a -bully. And of a sudden Eve understood what it meant for a woman to have -to stand up and face the coarse male element in the crowd, all the young -cads who were out for horseplay. She was conscious of physical fear; a -shrinking from the bestial thoughtlessness of a mob that did things that -any single man would have been ashamed to do. - -The fellow was still staring at her. - -“Now, then, ‘Votes for Women!’ Own up!” - -He jogged her with his elbow, and she kept a scornful profile towards -him, though trembling inwardly. - -Someone interposed. - -“You there, leave the young lady alone! She’s only listening like you -and me.” - -The aggressor turned with a snarl, but found himself up against a -particularly big workman dressed in his Sunday clothes. - -“You’re an old woman yourself.” - -“Go home and sell stockings over the counter, and leave decent people -alone.” - -Eve thanked the man with a look, and turned out of the crowd. The -workman followed her. - -“’Scuse me, miss, I’ll walk to the gates with you. There are too many of -these young blackguard fools about.” - -“Thank you very much.” - -“I’ve got a lot of sympathy with the women, but seems to me some of ’em -are on the wrong road.” - -She looked at him interestedly. He was big and fresh coloured and quiet, -and reminded her in his coarser way of James Canterton. - -“You think so?” - -“It don’t do to lose your temper, even in a game, and that’s what some -of the women are doing. We’re reasonable sort of creatures, and it’s no -use going back to the old boot and claw business.” - -“What they say is that they have tried reasoning, and that men would not -listen.” - -He laughed. - -“That’s rot! Excuse me, miss. You’ve got to give reason a chance, and a -pretty long chance. Do you think we working men won what we’ve got in -three months? You have to go on shoving and shoving, and in the end, if -you’ve got common sense on your side, you push the public through. You -can’t expect things turned all topsy-turvy in ten minutes, because a few -women get up on carts and scream. They ought to know better.” - -“They say it is the only thing that’s left.” - -His blue eyes twinkled. - -“Not a bit of it, miss. The men were coming round. We’re better chaps, -better husbands and fathers than we were a hundred years ago. You know, -miss, a man ain’t averse to a decent amount of pleasant persuasion. It -don’t do to nag him, or he may tell you to go to blazes. Well, I wish -you good afternoon.” - -They had reached the gates, and he touched the brim of his hard hat, -smiling down at her with shrewd kindness. - -“I’m very grateful to you.” - -He coloured up, and his smile broadened, and Eve walked away down Oxford -Street, doing some pregnant thinking. - -The man had reminded her of Canterton. What was Canterton’s attitude -towards this movement, and what was her attitude to Canterton now that -she had touched more of the realities of life? When she came to analyse -her feelings she found that Canterton did not appear to exist for her in -the present. Fernhill and its atmosphere had become prehistoric. It had -removed into the Golden Age, above and beyond criticism, and she did not -include it in this world of struggling prejudices and aspirations. And -yet, when she let herself think of Canterton and Lynette, she felt less -sure of the sex antagonism that she was encouraging with scourge and -prayer. Canterton seemed to stand in the pathway of her advance, looking -down at her with eyes that smiled, eyes that were without mockery. -Moreover, something that he had once said to her kept opposing itself to -her arbitrary and enthusiastic pessimism. She could remember him stating -his views, and she could remember disagreeing with him. - -He had said, “People are very much happier than you imagine. -Sentimentalists have always made too much of the woe of the world. There -is a sort of thing I call organic happiness, the active physical -happiness of the animal that is reasonably healthy. Of course we -grumble, but don’t make the mistake of taking grumbling for the cries of -discontented misery. I believe that most of the miserable people are -over-sensed, under-bodied neurotics. They lack animal vitality. I think -I can speak from experience, since I have mixed a good deal with working -people. In the mass they are happy, much happier, perhaps, than we are. -Perhaps because they don’t eat too much, and so think dyspeptically.” - -That saying of Canterton’s, “People are much happier than you imagine” -haunted Eve’s consciousness, walked at her side, and would not suffer -itself to be forgotten. She had moments when she suspected that he had -spoken a great truth. He had told her once to read Walt Whitman, but of -what use was that great, barbaric, joyous person to her in her wilful -viewing of sociological problems? It was a statement that she could test -by her own observations, this assertion that the majority of people are -happy. The clerks and shopmen who lunched in the tea-shops talked hard, -laughed, and made a cheerful noise. If she went to the docks or Covent -Garden Market, or watched labourers at work in the streets, she seemed -to strike a stolid yet jocose cheerfulness that massed itself against -her rather pessimistic view of life. The evening crowds in the streets -were cheerful, and these, she supposed, were the people who slaved in -shops. The factory girls out for the dinner hour were merry souls. If -she went into one of the parks on Sunday, she could not exactly convince -herself that she was watching a miserable people released for one day -from the sordid and hopeless slavery of toil. - -The mass of people did appear to be happy. And Eve was absurdly angry, -with some of the prophet’s anger, who would rather have seen a city -perish than that God should make him appear a fool. Her convictions -rallied themselves to meet the challenge of this apparent fact. She -contended that this happiness was a specious, surface happiness. One had -but to get below the surface, to penetrate behind the mere scenic -effects of civilisation to discover the real sorrows. What of the slums? -She had seen them with her own eyes. What of the hospitals, the asylums, -the prisons, the workhouses, the sweating dens, even the sordid little -suburbs! She was in a temper to pile Pelion on Ossa in her desire to -storm and overturn this serene Olympian assumption that mankind in the -mass was happy. - -In walking along Southampton Row into Kingsway, she passed on most days -a cheerful, ruddy-faced young woman who sold copies of _Votes for -Women_. This young woman was prettily plain, but good to look at in a -clean and comely and sturdy way. Eve glanced at her each day with the -eyes of a friend. The figure became personal, familiar, prophetic. She -had marked down this young woman who sold papers as a Providence to whom -she might ultimately appeal. - -It seemed to her a curious necessity that she should be driven to try -and prove that people were unhappy, and that most men acted basely in -their sexual relationships towards women. This last conviction did not -need much proving. - -Being in a mood that demanded fanatical thoroughness, Eve played with -the ultimate baseness of man, and made herself a candle to the -night-flying moths. She repeated the experience twice—once in Regent -Street, and once in Leicester Square. Nothing but fanaticism could have -made such an experiment possible, and have enabled her to outface her -scorn and her disgust. Several men spoke to her, and she dallied with -each one for a few seconds before letting him feel her scorn. - -She spent the last night of her stay in the Bloomsbury hotel sitting in -the lounge and listening to three raucous American women who were -talking over their travels. They had been to Algiers, Egypt, Italy, the -South of France, and of course to Paris. The dominant talker, who had -gorgeous yellow hair, not according to Nature, and whose hands were -always moving restlessly and showing off their rings, seemed to remember -and to identify the various places she had visited by some particular -sort of food that she had eaten! “Siena, Siena. Wasn’t that the place, -Mina, where we had ravioli?” - -“Did you go to Ré’s at Monte Carlo? It’s an experience to have eaten at -Ré’s.” “I shan’t forget the Nile. The Arab boy made some bad coffee, and -I was sick in the stomach.” They went on to describe their various -hagglings with hotel-keepers, cabmen, and shop-people, and the -yellow-haired lady who wore “nippers” on a very thin-bridged, -sharp-pointed nose, had an exhilarating tale to tell of how she had -stood out against a Paris taxi-driver over a matter of ten cents. Eve -had always heard such lavish tales of American extravagance, that she -was surprised to discover in these women the worst sort of meanness, the -meanness that contrives to be generous on a few ostentatious occasions -by beating all the lesser people’s profits down to vanishing point. She -wondered whether these American women with their hard eyes, selfish -mouths, and short-fingered, ill-formed, grasping hands were typical of -this new hybrid race. - -It amused her to contrast her own situation with theirs. When -to-morrow’s bill was paid, and her box taken to Charing Cross station, -she calculated that she would have about twelve pence left in her purse. -And she was going to test another aspect of life on those twelve -pennies. It would not be ravioli, or luncheon at Ré’s. - -Eve packed up her box next morning, paid her bill, and drove off to -Charing Cross, where she left her box in the cloak-room. She had exactly -elevenpence left in her purse, and it was her most serious intention to -make these eleven pennies last her for the best part of two days. One -thing that she had lost, without noticing it, was her sense of humour. -Fanaticism cannot laugh. Had Simeon Stylites glimpsed but for a moment -the comic side of his existence, he would have come down off that pillar -like a cat off a burning roof. - -The day turned out to be a very tiring one for her, and Eve found out -how abominably uncomfortable London can be when one has no room of one’s -own to go to, and no particular business to do. She just drifted about -till she was tired, and then the problem was to find something upon -which to sit. She spent the latter part of the morning in the gardens -below Charing Cross Station, and then it began to rain. Lunch cost her -threepence—half a scone and butter, and a glass of milk. She dawdled -over it, but rain was still falling when she came out again into the -street. A station waiting-room appeared to be her only refuge, for it -was a sixpenny day at the National Gallery, and as she sat for two hours -on a bench, wondering whether the weather was going to make the -experiment she contemplated a highly realistic and unpleasant test of -what a wet night was like when spent on one of the Embankment seats. - -The weather cleared about four o’clock, and Eve went across to a -tea-shop, and spent another threepence on a cup of tea and a slice of -cake. She had made a point of making the most of her last breakfast at -the hotel, but she began to feel abominably hungry, with a hunger that -revolted against cake. After tea she walked to Hyde Park, sat there till -within half an hour of dusk, and then wandered back down Oxford Street, -growing hungrier and hungrier. It was a very provoking sign of health, -but if one part of her clamoured for food, her body, as a whole, -protested that it was tired. The sight of a restaurant made her loiter, -and she paused once or twice in front of some confectionery shop, and -looked at the cakes in the window. But sweet stuffs did not tempt her. -They are the mere playthings of people who are well fed. She found that -she had a most primitive desire for good roast meat, beef for -preference, swimming in brown gravy, and she accepted her appetite quite -solemnly as a phenomenon that threw an illuminating light upon the -problems of existence. - -Exploring a shabbier neighbourhood she discovered a cheap cook-shop with -a steaming window and a good advertising smell. There was a bill of fare -stuck up in the window, and she calculated that she could spend another -three pennies. Sausages and mashed potatoes were to be had for that sum, -and in five minutes she was sitting at a wooden table covered with a -dirty cloth, and helping herself to mustard out of a cracked glass pot. - -It was quite a carnal experience, and she came out refreshed and much -more cheerful, telling herself with naive seriousness that she was -splitting life up into its elements. Food appeared to be a very -important problem, and hunger a lust whose strength is unknown save to -the very few, yet she was so near to her real self that she was on the -edge of laughter. Then it occurred to her that she was not doing the -thing thoroughly, that she had lapsed, that she ought to have started -the night hungry. - -There was more time to be wasted, and she strolled down Shaftesbury -Avenue and round Piccadilly Circus into Regent Street. The pavements -were fairly crowded, and the multitude of lights made her feel less -lonely. She loitered along, looking into shop windows, and she had -amused herself in this way for about ten minutes before she became aware -of another face that kept appearing near to hers. She saw it reflected -in four successive windows, the face of an old man, spruce yet senile, -the little moustache carefully trimmed, a faint red patch on either -cheek. The eyes were turned to one side, and seemed to be watching -something. She did not realise at first that that something was herself. - -“How are you to-night, dear?” - -Eve stared straight through the window for some seconds, and then turned -and faced him. He was like Death valeted to perfection, and turned out -with all his senility polished to the last finger nail. His lower -eyelids were baggy, and innumerable little veins showed in the skin that -looked tightly stretched over his nose and cheekbones. He smiled at her, -the fingers of one hand picking at the lapel of his coat. - -“I am glad to see you looking so nice, dear. Supposing we have a little -dinner?” - -“I beg your pardon. I think you must be rather short-sighted!” - -She thought as she walked away, “Supposing I had been a different sort -of woman, and supposing I had been hungry!” - -She made direct for the river after this experience, and, turning down -Charing Cross and under the railway bridge, saw the long sweep of the -darkness between the fringes of yellow lights. There were very few -people about, and a raw draught seemed to come up the river. She crossed -to the Embankment and walked along, glancing over the parapet at the -vaguely agitated and glimmering surface below. The huge shadow of the -bridge seemed to take the river at one leap. The lapping of the water -was cold, and suggestively restless. - -Then she turned her attention to the seats. They seemed to be full, -packed from rail to rail with indistinct figures that were huddled close -together. All these figures were mute and motionless. Once she saw a -flutter of white where someone was picking broken food out of a piece of -newspaper. And once she heard a figure speaking in a monotonous -grumbling voice that kept the same level. - -Was she too late even for such a refuge? She walked on and at last -discovered a seat where a gap showed between a man’s felt hat and a -woman’s bonnet. Eve paused rather dubiously, shrinking from thrusting -herself into that vacant space. She shrank from touching these sodden -greasy things that had drifted like refuse into some sluggish backwater. - -Then a quiver of pity and of shame overcame her. She went and thrust -herself into the vacant place. The whole seat seemed to wriggle and -squirm. The man next to her heaved and woke up with a gulp. Eve -discovered at once that his breath was not ambrosial. - -She felt a hand tugging at something. It belonged to the old woman next -to her. - -“’Ere, you’re sitting on it!” - -“I beg your pardon.” - -She felt something flat withdrawn. It was a bloater wrapped up in a bit -of paper, but the woman did not explain. She tucked the thing away -behind her and relapsed. The whole seat resettled itself. No one said -anything. Eve heard nothing but the sound of breathing, and the noise -made by the passing of an occasional motor, cab, or train. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV - - - THE SUFFRAGETTE - - -The night spent on the Embankment seat was less tragic than squalidly -uncomfortable. Wedged in there between those hopeless other figures, Eve -had to resist a nauseating sense of their physical uncleanness, and to -overcome instincts that were in wholesome revolt. Her ears and nostrils -did not spare her. There was a smell of stale alcohol, a smell of fish, -a smell of sour and dirty clothes. Moreover, the man who sat on her -right kept rolling his head on to her shoulder, his dirty felt hat -rubbing her ear and cheek. She edged him off rather roughly, and he woke -up and swore. - -“What the —— are you shovin’ for?” - -After that she did not attempt to wake him again, turning her face as -far away as possible when his slobbery, stertorous mouth puffed against -her shoulders. - -As for the seat—well, it was her first experience of sitting all night -in one position, on a sort of unpadded reality. Her back ached, her neck -ached, her legs ached. She was afraid of waking the man beside her, and -the very fact that she dared not move was a horror in itself. She felt -intolerably stiff, and her feet and hands were cold. She found herself -wondering what would happen if she were to develop a desire to sneeze. -Etiquette forbade one to sneeze in such crowded quarters. She would wake -her neighbour and get sworn at. - -Then the tragic absurdity of the whole thing struck her. It was absurd, -but it was horrible. She felt an utter loathing of the creatures on each -side of her, and her loathing raised in her an accusing anger. Who was -responsible? She asked the question irritably, only to discover that in -answering it she was attacked by a disturbing suspicion that she -herself, every thinking creature, was responsible for such an absurdity -as this. Physical disgust proved stronger than pity. She reminded -herself that animals were better cared for. There were stables, -cowsheds, clean fields, where beasts could shelter under trees and -hedges. Worn-out horses and diseased cattle were put out of the way. Why -were not debauched human cattle got rid of cleanly upon the same -scientific plan, for they were lower and far more horrible than the -beasts of the field. - -She was surprised that this should be what one such night seemed -destined to teach her. These people were better dead. She could feel no -pity at all for the beast who snored on her shoulder. She could not -consent to justify his becoming what he was. Ill luck, fate, a bad -heritage, these were mere empty phrases. She only knew that she felt -contaminated, that she loathed these wretched, greasy creatures with an -almost vindictive loathing. Her skin felt all of a creep, shrinking from -their uncleanness. - -As to her visions of a regenerated civilisation, her theoretical -compassions, what had become of them? Was she not discovering that even -her ideals were personal, selective, prejudiced? These people were -beyond pity. That was her impression. She found herself driven to utter -the cry, “For God’s sake let us clean up the world before we begin to -build up fresh ideas. This rubbish ought to be put out of the way, -burnt, or buried. What is the use of being sentimental about it?” Pity -held aloof. She had a new understanding of Death, and saw him as the -great Cleanser, the Furnaceman who threw all the unclean things into his -destructor. What fools men were to try and cheat Death of his wholesome -due. The children ought to be saved, the really valuable lives fought -for; but this gutter stuff ought to be cleaned up and got rid of in grim -and decent silence. - -Eve never expected to sleep, but she slept for two hours, and woke up -just before dawn. - -It was not a comfortable awakening. She felt cold and stiff, and her -body ached, and with the return of consciousness came that wholesome -horror of her neighbours, a horror that had taught her more than all the -sociological essays she could have read in a lifetime. The man’s head -was on her shoulder. He still spluttered and blew in his sleep. - -Eve decided to sit it out; to go through to the bitter end. Moreover, -she was curious to see the faces of these people by daylight. A strange -stillness prevailed; there was no wind, and the river was running -noiselessly. Once or twice the sound of regular footsteps approached, -and the figure of a policeman loomed up and passed. - -A thin light began to spread, and the whole scene about her became a -study in grey. The sky was overcast, canopied with ashen clouds that -were ribbed here and there with lines of amethyst and white. The city -seemed to rise out of a gloomy and mysterious haze, dim, sad, and -unreal. The massive buildings looked like vague grey cliffs. The spires -were blurred lines, leaden coloured and unglittering. There had been a -sprinkling of rain while she had slept, for the pavements were wet and -her clothes damp to the touch. She shivered. It was so cold, and still, -and dreary. - -The stillness had been only a relative stillness, for there were plenty -of sounds to be distinguished. A line of vans rumbled over one of the -bridges, a train steamed into Charing Cross. She heard motor horns -hooting in the scattered distance, and she was struck by the conceit -that this was the dawn song of the birds of the city. - -The light became hard and cold, and she wondered when her neighbours -would wake. A passing policeman looked at her curiously, seemed inclined -to stop, but walked on. - -Turning her head she found she could see the face of the man next to -her. His old black bowler hat had fallen off and lay on the pavement. -Eve studied him, fascinated by her own disgust, and by his sottish -ugliness. His skin was red, blotched, and pitted like an orange, black -hair a quarter of an inch long bristled over his jowl and upper lip. His -eyelids and nose were unmentionable. He wore no collar, and as he -lounged there she could see a great red flabby lower lip jutting out -like the lip of a jug. His black hair was greasy. He was wearing an old -frock coat, whose lapels were all frayed and smeary, as though he were -in the habit of holding himself up by them. - -Eve turned away with qualms of disgust, and glanced at the old woman. -Her face, as she slept, had an expression of absurd astonishment, the -eyebrows raised, the mouth open. Her face looked like tallow in a dirty, -wrinkled bladder. She had two moles on one cheek, out of which grey -hairs grew. Her bonnet had fallen back, and her open mouth showed a few -rotten black teeth. - -A man at the end of the seat was the first to wake. He sat up, yawned, -and blew his nose on his fingers. Then the sot next to Eve stirred. He -stretched his legs, rolled his head to one side, and, being still half -asleep, began to swear filthily in a thick, grumbling voice. Suddenly he -sat up, turned, and stared into Eve’s face. His red brown eyes were -angry and injected, the sullen, lascivious eyes of a sot. - -“Good mornin’!” - -She caught the twinge of insolent raillery in his voice. Even his -brutishness was surprised by the appearance of his neighbour, and he had -a reputation for humour. Eve looked away. - -He made facetious remarks, half directed to her, half to the world at -large. - -“Didn’t know I was in such —— genteel company. Never had no luck. -Suppose I’ve had m’ head on your shoulder all night and didn’t know it. -Didn’t kiss me, did you, while I was sleeping like an innocent babe?” - -Another face peered round at her, grinning. Then the old woman woke up, -snuffled, and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. - -“Bin rainin’, of course?” - -Eve said that she thought it had. The old woman’s eyes seemed to be -purblind, and without curiosity. A sudden anxiety stole over her face. -She felt behind her, drew out the bit of newspaper, opened it, and -disclosed the fish. - -She smelt it, and then began to eat, picking it to pieces with her -fingers. - -The red-faced man reached for his hat and put it on with a sullen -rakishness. He was looking at Eve out of the corners of his eyes. Being -a drunkard, he was ugly-tempered in the morning, and the young woman had -given him the cold shoulder. - -“Stuck up bit of goods. Looks like the lady. Been up to it, have yer? I -know all about that. Governess, eh? Some old josser of a husband and a -screechin’ wife, and out yer go into the street!” - -She was more struck by the vindictive, threatening way he spoke than by -the vile things he said. Her impressions of the night grew more vivid -and more pitiless. Something hardened in her. She felt cold and -contemptuous, and quite capable of facing this human animal. - -“Be quiet, please!” - -She turned and looked at him steadily, and his dirty eyelids flickered. - -“Mayn’t I speak, blast yer?” - -“If you speak to me as you are speaking, I will stop the next constable -and give you in charge.” - -“Goo’ lord! What the hell are you doin’ here, may I ask?” - -She kept her eyes on him. - -“I came here just for an experience, because I felt sorry for people, -and wanted to see what a night here was like. I have learnt a good -deal.” - -“Ah!” - -Something fell out of his face. It relaxed, his lower lip drooping. - -“You’ve learnt somethin’.” - -She felt pitiless, nauseated. - -“I have. I hope before long that we shall have the sense to put people -like you in a lethal chamber. You would be better dead, you know.” - -Eve got up and walked away, knowing that in the future there would be -certain creatures whom she could not pity—creatures whom she would look -at with the eyes of Nature, eyes that condemn without pity. She wondered -whether the amateurs who indulged in sentimental eugenics had ever spent -a night sitting on a seat next to a degenerate sot. She doubted it. The -reality would upset the digestion of the strongest sentimentalist. - -She felt so stiff and cold that she started to walk briskly in the -direction of Westminster. A light, drizzling rain began to fall, making -the city and the river look even dirtier and uglier, though there is a -fascination about London’s courtesan ugliness that makes soft Arcadian -prettiness seem inane and unprovocative. Nor does bad weather matter so -much in a city, which is a consideration in this wet little island. - -Eve had not walked far before she discovered that she was hungry. No -shops would be open yet, but in allowing some whim to take her across -Westminster Bridge she happened on an itinerant coffee-stall at the -corner of a side street. Her last two pennies went in a cup of coffee -and two massive slabs of bread and butter. The keeper of the stall, a -man with a very shiny and freshly shaved chin and cynical blue eyes, -studied her rather doubtfully, as did a tram-driver and two workmen who -came up for breakfast. Eve noticed that the men were watching her, -behind their silence. Her presence there at such an hour was an abnormal -phenomenon that caused them furiously to think. - -She heard them recover their voices directly she had moved away. - -“Bet you she’s been up to something. ’Eard of any fires down your way, -Jack?” - -“No. Think she’s one of them dirty militant sneaks?” - -“I wouldn’t mind bettin’ you that’s what she is. Dirty, low-down game -they’re playing. I’ve a good mind to follow her up, and tip a copper the -wink.” - -But the speaker remained to talk and to drink another cup of -mahogany-coloured tea. - -“That’s just it. These suffragette women ain’t got no notion of sport. -Suppose they belong to the sort as scratches and throws lamps.” - -The coffee-stall keeper interjected a question. - -“What about the chaps who burnt ricks and haystacks before the Reform -Bill, and the chaps who smashed machines when they first put ’em into -factories?” - -“Well, they burnt and broke, but they did it like men.” - -“Women ain’t in the same situation.” - -“Ain’t they? They can make ’emselves ’eard. Do yer think my ol’ woman -goes about the ’ouse like a bleatin’ lamb? Garn, these militants are -made all wrong inside. Fine sort of cause you’ve got when yer go -sneakin’ about at three in the mornin’, settin’ empty ’ouses alight. -That’s ’eroic, ain’t it?” - -These men had set Eve down as a militant, and they had come precious -near the truth. - -She was on the edge of militancy, impelled towards strenuous rebellion -by an exasperated sense of the injustice meted out to women, and by -brooding upon the things she herself had experienced. It was a generous -impulse in the main, mingling some bitterness with much enthusiasm, and -moving with such impetuosity that it smothered any sound thinking. For -the moment she was abnormal. She had half starved herself, and during -weeks of loneliness she had encouraged herself to quarrel with society. -She did not see the pathetic absurdity of all this spiritual kicking and -screaming, being more than inclined to regard it as splendid protest -than as an outburst of hysteria, a fit of tantrums more suited to an -ill-balanced and uneducated servant girl. - -A shrill voice carries. The frenzied few have delayed so often the very -reforms that they have advocated. And there is a sort of hysterical -enthusiasm that tricks the younger and more generous spirits, and acting -like crude alcoholic drink, stirs up a so-called religious revival or -some such orgy of purblind egoism as this phenomenon of militancy. The -emotions make the brain drunk, and the power of sound reasoning is lost. -The fools, the fanatics, the self-advertisers, the notoriety hunters, -and the genuine idealists get huddled into one exclamatory, pitiable -mob. And it is one of the tragic facts of life that the soul of a mob is -the soul of its lowest and basest members. All the finer, subtler -sensitive restraints are lost. A man of mind may find himself shouting -demagogic cries next to some half drunken coal-heaver. - -Now Eve Carfax was on the edge of militancy, and it was a debatable -point with her whether she should begin her campaign that day. Necessity -advised something of the kind, seeing that her purse was empty. Yet she -could not quite convince a sensitive and individualistic pride that the -breaking of a shop window or a scuffle with the police would be an -adequate and suitable protest. - -She walked about for an hour in the neighbourhood of Trafalgar Square, -trying to escape from a treacherous self-consciousness that refused to -suffer the adventure to be treated as an impersonal affair. The few -people whom she passed stared rather hard, and so persistently, that she -stopped to examine herself in a shop window. A dark green blind and the -plate glass made an admirable mirror. It showed her her hair straggling -most disgracefully, and the feminine part of her was shocked. - -Her appearance mattered. She did not realise the significance of the -little thrill of shame that had flashed through her when she had looked -at herself in the shop window; and even when she made her way to St. -James’s Park and found an empty seat she deceived herself into believing -that she had come there to think things out, and not to tidy her hair, -with the help of the little mirror and the comb she carried in her -vanity bag. Moreover she felt that she had been chilled on that -Embankment seat, and a cold in the head is not heroic. She had her -protest to make. The whole day loomed over her, big with possibilities. -It made her feel very small and lonely, and cold and insecure. - -Hazily, and with a vague audacity that had now deserted her, she had -assured herself that she would strike her blow when the hour came; but -now that she was face to face with the necessity she found that she was -afraid. Even her scorn of her own fear could not whip her into action. -Her more sensitive and spiritual self shrank from the crude publicity of -the ordeal. If she did the thing she had contemplated doing, she knew -that she would be hustled and roughly handled. She saw herself with torn -clothes and tumbled hair. The police would rescue and arrest her. She -would be charged, convicted, and sent to prison. - -She did not fear pain, but she did fear the inevitable and vulgar -scuffle, the rough male hands, the humiliation of being at the mercy of -a crowd. Something prouder than her pride of purpose rose up and refused -to prostitute itself in such a scrimmage. She knew how some of these -women had been handled, and as she sat there in the hush of the early -morning she puzzled over the psychological state of those who had dared -to outrage public opinion. Either they were supreme enthusiasts or women -with the souls of fishwives, or drunk with zeal, like those most -offensive of zealots, the early Christians, who scolded, spat, and raved -until they had exasperated some Roman magistrate into presenting them -with martyrdom. She discovered that she had not that sort of courage or -effrontery. The hot, physical smell of the ordeal disgusted her. - -Yet Nature was to decide the question for her, and the first -interposition of that beneficent tyrant began to manifest itself as soon -as the stimulating effect of the hot coffee had worn off. Eve felt -chilly, an indefinable restlessness and a feeling of malaise stole over -her. She left the seat in the park, and walking briskly to warm herself, -came into Pall Mall by way of Buckingham Gate. The rush of the day was -beginning. She had been conscious of the deepening roar of the traffic -while she had been sitting over yonder, and now it perplexed her, -pressed upon her with a savage challenge. - -She had thought to throw the straw of herself into this torrent of -strenuous materialism. For the moment she was very near to laughter, -near twitting herself with an accusation of egregious egoism. Yet it was -the ego—the intimate, inward I—that was in the ascendant. The hurrying -figures that passed her on the pavement made her recoil into her -impressionable individualism. She felt like a hyper-sensitive child, shy -of being stared at or of being spoken to. The hurry and the noise -bothered her. Her head began to ache. Her will power flagged. She was -feverish. - -Eve walked and walked. There seemed nothing for her to do in this -feverish city, but to walk and to go on walking. A significant languor -took possession of her. She was conscious of feeling very tired, not -merely with physical tiredness, but with an utter weariness of spirit. -Her mind refused to go on working. It refused to face any -responsibility, to consider any enterprise. - -It surprised her that she did not grow hungry. On the contrary, the -sight of food in a window nauseated her. Her head ached more, and her -lips felt dry. Flushes of heat went over her, alternating with tremors -of cold. Her body felt limp. Her legs did not seem to be there, even -though she went on walking aimlessly along the pavements. The faces of -the people whom she passed began to appear grotesque and sinister. -Nothing seemed very real. Even the sound of the traffic came from a long -way off. By twelve o’clock she was just an underfed young woman with a -temperature, a young woman who should have been in bed. - -Eve never quite knew how the idea came to her. She just found it there -quite suddenly, filling the whole lumen of her consciousness. She would -go and speak to the rosy-faced suffragette who sold papers at the corner -of Southampton Row. She did not realise that she had surrendered, or -that Nature might be playing with her as a wise mother plays with a -child. - -Eve was quite innocently confident that the young woman would be there. -The neatly dressed, compact figure seemed to enlarge itself, and to -dominate the very city. Eve went up Shaftesbury Avenue, and along New -Oxford Street. She was nearly run over at one crossing. A taxi driver -had to jam on his brakes. She did not notice his angry, expostulatory -glare. - -“Now then, miss, wake up!” - -It was the male voice, the voice of organised society. “Wake up; move -along in the proper groove, or stand and be run over!” The words passed -over and beyond her. It was a feverish dream walk to the corner of -Southampton Row. Then she found herself talking to the young woman who -sold papers. - -“I meant to do something. I’m not strong enough. I have been out all -night on the Embankment.” - -She was conscious of a strong presence near her; of a pleasant practical -voice speaking. - -“Why, you’re ill! Have you had anything to eat?” - -“Some coffee and bread and butter at half-past five. I have been walking -about.” - -“Good gracious! You’re feverish! Let me feel.” - -She gripped a hot hand. - -“Thought so. Have you any money?” - -To Eve money presented itself as something that was yellow and -detestable. It was part of the heat in her brain. - -“No. I spent the last of it this morning. I want to explain——” - -The paper-seller put a hand under Eve’s arm. - -“Look here, you’ll faint if you stay out here much longer. I’ll take you -to friends. Of course, you are one of us?” - -“I have been trying to earn a living, and to keep my pride.” - -“A thing that men generally manage to make impossible!” - -They had to wait for some traffic to pass, and to Eve the street seemed -full of vague glare and confusion. She was aware of a firm grip on her -arm, and of the nearness of something that was comforting and -protective. She wanted to sink down into some soft, soothing substance, -to drink unlimited cold water, and not to be bothered. - -The body had decided it. There was to be no spasm of physical protest. -Nature had determined that Eve should go to bed. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVI - - - PALLAS - - -Not even her intimates knew the nature of the humiliations and the -sufferings that had created Mrs. Falconer’s attitude towards man. - -She was a tall and rather silent woman, fair-haired, grey-eyed, with a -face that was young in outline and old in its white reserve. There was -nothing slipshod or casual about her. She dressed with discrimination, -yet even in the wearing of her clothes she suggested the putting on of -armour, the linking up of chain mail. Someone had nicknamed her -“Pallas.” She moved finely, stood still finely, and spoke in a level, -full-toned voice that had a peculiar knack of dominating the -conversation without effort and without self-consciousness. People -turned and looked at her directly she entered a room. - -Yet Mrs. Falconer did not play to her public. It was not the case of a -superlatively clever woman conducting an ambitious campaign. There was -something behind her cold serenity, a silent forcefulness, a superior -vitality that made people turn to her, watch her, listen to what she -said. She suggested the instinctive thought, “This woman has suffered; -this woman knows; she is implacable; can keep a secret.” And all of us -are a little afraid of the silent people who can keep secrets, who watch -us, who listen while we babble, and who, with one swift sentence, send -an arrow straight to the heart of things while we have been shooting all -over the target. - -Sentimentalists might have said that Mrs. Falconer was a splendid white -rose without any perfume. Whether the emotions had been killed in her, -whether she had ever possessed them, or whether she concealed them -jealously, was a matter of conjecture. She was well off, had a house -near Hyde Park and a cottage in Sussex. She was more than a mere clever, -highly cultured woman of the world. Weininger would have said that she -was male. The name of Pallas suited her. - -Eve Carfax had lain in bed for a week in a little room on the third -floor of Mrs. Falconer’s house, and during that week she had been -content to lie there without asking herself any questions. The woman -doctor who attended her was a lanky good fellow, who wore pince-nez and -had freckles all over her face. Eve did not do much talking. She smiled, -took what she was given, slept a great deal, being aware of an emptiness -within her that had to be filled up. She had fallen among friends, and -that was sufficient. - -The window of her room faced south, and since the weather was sunny, and -the walls were papered a soft pink, she felt herself in a pleasant and -delicate atmosphere. She took a liking to Dr. Alice Keck. The freckled -woman had been a cheeky, snub-nosed flapper on long stilts of legs, and -her essential impudence had lingered on, and mellowed into a breezy -optimism. She had the figure of a boy, and talked like a pseudo-cynical -man of forty. - -“You want turning out to grass for a month, then all the kick will come -back. You have done enough experimenting on your own. I tried it once, -and I didn’t like it!” - -“When can I see Mrs. Falconer?” - -Mrs. Falconer’s name seemed to instil sudden seriousness into Dr. Alice -Keck. - -“Oh, in a day or two!” - -“I haven’t seen her yet, and I want to thank her.” - -“Take my advice, and don’t.” - -“Why not?” - -“Oh, it is not in her line—the emotions! You’d feel foolish, as though -you had taken a box of matches to set light to the North Pole.” - -“That sounds rather discouraging.” - -“Rot! Wait and see. They call her Pallas, you know. If you begin hanging -emotions on Kate Falconer you’ll end up by thinking you are shoving -tinsel and beads on a fine statue. I’ll tell her you want to see her. I -think she wants to see you.” - -Eve’s vitality was returning, and one of the first evidences of its -return showed itself in a curiosity concerning this woman who had -befriended her. All the little delicate refinements of life had been -given her—flowers, books, early tea served in dainty china, a bottle of -scent had even been placed on the table beside her bed. These things had -seemed feminine and suggestive. The room had a warmth of atmosphere that -did not seem to belong to the house of a woman who would not care to be -thanked. - -But from the very first moment that Eve saw Kate Falconer in the flesh, -she understood the aptness of Alice Keck’s similes. Eve was unusually -intuitive. She felt an abnormal presence near her, something that piqued -her interest. - -“I am glad that you are so much better.” - -She came and sat down beside the bed, and Eve could see her profile -against the window. A warm, evening light was pouring in, but Pallas’s -white face and grey dress were not warmed by it. There was nothing -diaphanous or flamboyant about her; neither was she reactive or -absorbent. The poise was complete; the whole world on one side, this -woman on the other. - -She made Eve feel self-conscious. - -“I am much better, thanks to all your kindness.” - -“It was the obvious thing to do.” - -“I cannot quite look at it like that.” - -It struck her as absurd that this woman should speak of doing what was -obvious. Eve’s intuition did not hail her as an obvious person, though -it was possible that Mrs. Falconer’s cold brilliancy made what seemed -complex to most people, obvious to her. There was a moment’s constraint, -Eve feeling herself at a disadvantage. - -“I thought you might like to talk.” - -“I ought to explain things a little.” - -“You are under no obligation to explain anything. We women must help one -another. It is part of the new compact.” - -“Against men?” - -“Against male dominance.” - -“I should like to tell you some of my experiences!” - -“I should like to hear them!” - -Eve found it difficult to begin. She doubted whether this woman could -distinguish the subtle emotional colour shades, but in this she was -mistaken. She soon discovered that Mrs. Falconer was as experienced as a -sympathetic Romish priest, yet the older woman seemed to look at life -objectively, and to read all its permutations and combinations as a -mathematician may be able to read music at sight. - -“You have just worked out all the old conclusions, but there is nothing -like working out a thing for oneself. It is like touching, seeing, -tasting. I suppose it has made you one of the so-called fanatics?” - -“I want things altered!” - -“To what extent?” - -“I want the divorce law made equal, and I want divorce made easier. I -want commercial equality. I want it understood that an unmarried woman -who has a child shall not be made to carry all the supposed disgrace!” - -Mrs. Falconer turned in her chair. Her face was in the shadow, and Eve -could not see her eyes very plainly, but she felt that she was being -looked at by a woman who regarded her views as rather crude. - -“I should like you to try and think in the future, not only in the -present.” - -“I have tried that, but it all seems so chaotic.” - -“I suppose you know that there are certain life groups where the -feminine element is dominant?” - -“You mean spiders and bees?” - -“Exactly! It is my particular belief that woman had her period of -dominance and lost it. It has been a male world, so far as humanity is -concerned, for a good many thousand years. And what has European man -given us? Factories, mechanics, and the commercial age. I think we can -do better than that.” - -“You mean that we must make woman the dominant force?” - -“Isn’t that obvious?” - -It was obvious, splendidly obvious, when one had the thorough audacity -to regard it in that light. - -“But how——” - -“By segregating the sexes, massing ourselves against the men, by -refusing them everything that they desire as men. We shall use the -political machinery as well. Man is the active principle, woman more -passive, but passivity must win if it remains obdurate. Why have women -always surrendered or sold themselves? Haven’t we that in us which gives -us the right to rule?” - -“Motherhood?” - -“Yes, motherhood! We are the true creators.” - -“But men——” - -“The best of them shall serve.” - -“And how can you be sure of persuading all women to mass themselves into -one sisterhood?” - -“That is just the problem we have to deal with. It will be solved so -soon as the ordinary woman is taught to think woman’s thought.” - -Eve lay mute, thinking. It was very easy to theorise on these lines, but -what about human nature? Could one count, even in the distant future, on -the ordered solidarity of a whole sex? Would every woman be above her -own impulses, above the lure of the emotions? It seemed to Eve that Mrs. -Falconer who talked of developments as being obvious, was overlooking -the most obvious of opponents—Nature. - -“But do you think that men will ever accept such a state of things?” - -“Of course they would resist.” - -“It would mean a sex war. They are stronger than we are!” - -“No, not stronger! Besides, methods of violence, if we come to them, can -be used now by women as well as by men. The trigger and the fuse are -different from the club. I don’t count on such crude methods. We are in -the majority. We shall just wear men out. We can bear more pain than -they can.” - -“But what an immense revolution!” - -“Yet it has happened. We see it in insect life, don’t we? How did it -come about?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“But it is there, a fact.” - -“Yes. All the same, when I had finished reading a book on the ways of -bees, I thought that they were detestable little beasts.” - -“Because they killed off the useless males, and let the queen -assassinate her rivals. We are not bees. We shall do better than that.” - -Her level, full-toned voice had never varied, and she talked with -perfect and assured serenity of turning society upside down. She was a -fanatic with ideas and a subnormal temperature. She believed what she -foresaw. It was like one of the Fates deigning to be conversational in a -drawing-room. - -She rose, and, walking to the window, looked down into the street. - -“Do you think that women would have perpetrated London? It took man to -do that. I must not tire you. Have you everything you want?” - -“Thank you, everything.” - -“I will come up and see you again to-morrow.” - -Eve had plenty of leisure for meditation, and Mrs. Falconer’s theories -gave her abundant material for thought. Rest in bed, with good food, and -pleasant refinements round her had restored her normal poise, and she -found that there was far less edge to her enthusiasm. She was a little -shocked by the discovery. The disharmonies of the life that she had been -studying had not changed, and she was troubled by this discovery that -she did not react as she had reacted two weeks ago. When we are young we -are distressed by the subtle transfigurations that overtake our ideals. -We hatch so many eggs that persist in giving us ducklings instead of -chickens. We imagine that we shall always admire the same things, -believe the same beliefs, follow out the strenuous beginnings. When -changes come, subtle, physical changes, perhaps, we are astonished at -ourselves. So it was with Eve when she discovered that her enthusiasm -had passed from a white heat to a dull and more comfortable glow. -Accusing herself of inconstancy, lack of sustained purpose, did not -explain the change in the least. She tried to convince herself that it -was mere sloth, the result of a comfortable bed and good food. - -In a day or two she found herself driven to explain a second surprising -fact, a growing hostility towards Mrs. Falconer. It was not a dislike -that could be reasoned with and suppressed, but a good, vigorous, -temperamental hatred as natural and as self-assertive as hunger, thirst, -or passion. It seemed to Eve abominable that she should be developing -such an attitude towards this woman, who had shown her nothing but -kindness, but this irresponsible antipathy of hers seemed to have leapt -up out of some elemental underworld where intellect counted as nothing. - -Mrs. Falconer came up daily to talk to her as to a fellow fanatic, and -her temperament roused in Eve an instinctive sense of resistance. She -found herself accusing her hostess to herself of intolerance and -vindictiveness. It was like listening to a hell-fire sermon preached -against the male sex, a denunciation that was subtilised with all the -cleverness of a mind that had played with all the scientific theories of -the day. Mrs. Falconer was a vitalist. She hated the mechanical school -with fine consistency, and clasped hands with Bergson and Hans Driesch. -Yet she disagreed with some of her fellow mystics in believing that -women possessed more of the “_élan vital_” than man. Therefore, woman -was the dominant force of the future, and it behoved her to assert her -power. - -Eve found herself on tip-toe to contradict Mrs. Falconer, just as one is -tempted to jump up and contradict the dogmatist who talks down at us -from the pulpit. She tried to argue one or two things out, but soon -realised that this woman was far too clever for her, far too well armed. -Mrs. Falconer had masked batteries everywhere. She had reserves of -knowledge that Eve had no chance of meeting. And yet, though she could -not meet her arguments, Eve had an intense conviction that Mrs. -Falconer’s ideals were hopelessly wrong. There was la revanche behind it -all. Her head could not confute the theorist, but her heart did. Human -nature would not be cajoled. - -She had an idea that Mrs. Falconer was a very busy woman. The house -seemed full of voices, and of the sound of coming and going, but Eve did -not discover how busy her hostess was till Dr. Alice Keck let her go -downstairs. There were two big rooms on the second floor fitted up like -offices, with a dozen women at work in them. Letters were being written, -directories consulted, lists of names made out, statistics compiled, -money received and disbursed. People came and went, brought and received -information. There was no laughter. Everyone was in grim earnest. - -Eve saw Mrs. Falconer’s personality translated into action. This rich -woman’s house was a nerve centre of the new movement, and Mrs. -Falconer’s presence suggested one of those subtle ferments that are -supposed to stimulate the complex processes of life. She did nothing -herself. She was a presence. People came to her when they needed the -flick of her advice. She co-ordinated everything. - -Eve was introduced to all these girls and women, and was given a table -to herself with several sheets of foolscap and a file of papers. Mrs. -Falconer came and stood by her, and explained the work she wanted her to -do. - -“There is nothing like attacking people with facts. They penetrate the -British skull! We are collecting all these cases, and making a register -of them. We shall publish them in a cheap form, and have them sent all -over the country.” - -“You want all these papers fair copied?” - -“Yes. They are in the rough, just as they were sent in to us. You will -find that they are numbered.” - -Eve discovered that she had before her a series of reports dealing with -well-authenticated cases of women who had been basely treated by men. -Some of them were written on ordinary letter paper, others on foolscap, -and not a few on the backs of circulars and bills. Nor was the batch -that had been given her the first that had been handled. Each case was -numbered, and Eve’s batch began at 293. - -There was a sordid and pathetic similarity about them all. - -“M—— W——, typist, 31, orphan. Engaged to be married to a clerk. The -man borrowed her savings, got her into trouble, and then refused to -marry her. Girl went into Queen Charlotte’s hospital. Baby born dead. -The mother developed puerperal fever, but recovered. She was unable to -get work for some time, and went into domestic service. Her health broke -down. She is now in a workhouse infirmary.” - -“V—— L——. A particularly cruel case that ended in suicide. She had -spent a little sum of money that had been left her, on educating -herself. Obtained a very good post as secretary. Her employer took her -with him to Paris, pretending that as she could speak French she would -be very useful to him in certain business transactions. Drugs were used. -Five months later the girl committed suicide in London by throwing -herself under a Tube train.” - -All day, and for several days, Eve worked at these pathetic records, -till she felt nauseated and depressed. It was a ghastly indictment drawn -up against man, and yet it did not have the effect on her that Mrs. -Falconer had expected. It did not drive her farther towards fanaticism. -On the contrary, she was overcome by a feeling of helplessness and of -questioning compassion. It was all so pitiable and yet so inevitable as -things were, and through all the misery and the suffering she was -brought to see that the whole blame could not be credited to the man. It -was the system more than the individual. - -A function that is natural and clean enough in itself has been fouled by -the pruderies of priests and pedants. Sex has been disguised with all -manner of hypocrisies and make-believes. Society pretends that certain -things do not happen, and when Nature insists upon their happening, -Society retaliates upon the woman by calling her foul names and making -her an outcast. The men themselves are driven by the system to all those -wretched meannesses, treacheries, deceptions. And the worst of it all is -that Society tries to keep the truth boxed up in a cellar. English good -form prides itself with a smirk on not talking about such things, and on -playing the ostrich with its head under a pew cushion. Nature is not -treated fairly and squarely. We are immorally moral in our conventions. -Until we decide to look at sex cleanly and wholesomely, stripping -ourselves of all mediæval nastiness and cowardly smuggery, we shall -remain what we are, furtive polygamists, ashamed of our own bodies, and -absurdly calling our own children the creatures of sin. - -The work depressed Eve. Her fellow workers were hardly more enlivening. -They belonged to a distinct type, the neutral type that cannot be -appealed to either as man or woman. Meals were served at a long table in -one of the lower rooms, and Eve noticed that her neighbours did not in -the least care what they ate. They got through a meal as quickly as -possible, talking hard all the time. Now Eve did care about what she -ate, and whether it was delicately served. She had the palate of a -healthy young woman, and it mattered to her whether she had ragged -mutton and rice pudding every day, or was piqued by something with a -flavour. - -She was carnal. She told herself so flatly one afternoon as she went up -to her bedroom, and the charge produced a thrill of natural laughter. -She had a sudden wild desire to run out and play, to be greedy as a -healthy child is greedy, to tumble hay in a hay field, to take off her -clothes and bathe in the sea. The natural vitality in her turned -suddenly from all this sour, quarrelsome, pessimistical campaigning and -demanded life—the life of feeling and seeing. - -The house oppressed her, so she put on her hat and escaped, and made her -way into the park. May was in, green May, with lush grass and opening -leaves. The sun shone. There was sparkle in the air. One thought of wood -nymphs dancing on forest lawns while fauns piped and jigged, and the -great god Pan delighted himself with wine and honey. It was only a -London park, but it was the nearest thing to Nature that Eve could find. -Her heart expanded suddenly. An irrational, tremulous joyousness came -over her. She wanted to sing, to weep, to throw herself down and bury -her face in the cool green grass. The country in May! She had a swift -and passionate desire for the country, for green glooms and quiet waters -and meadows dusted with gold. To get out of this loathsome complication -of tragedies, to breathe smokeless air, to think of things other than -suicides, prostitutions, treacheries, the buying and selling of souls. - -She felt like a child before a holiday, and then she thought of Lynette. -What a vision of wholesomeness and of joy! It was like cool water -bubbling out of the earth, like a swallow gliding, a thrush singing at -dawn. She could not bear to think of wasting all the spring in London. -She must escape somehow, escape to a healthier outlook, to cooler -thinking. - -When she went back Mrs. Falconer sent for her. Eve wondered afterwards -whether it was a coincidence or not that Mrs. Falconer should have said -what she did that day. - -“You have not been looking well. You want a change!” - -“I almost think I do.” - -“You don’t like me. It is a pity.” - -Eve was taken by surprise. - -“Don’t like you?” - -“It is quite obvious to me, but it does not make any difference. I knew -it, almost from the first. A matter of temperament. I understand some -things better than you suspect. You want action, more warmth of -movement. This statistical work disgusts you. I can give you your -opportunity.” - -Eve remained mute. It was useless to protest in the presence of such a -woman. - -“Two of our missionaries are going to tour in Sussex and Surrey. I think -you might join them. I wonder if you are strong enough.” - -“Oh, yes!” - -“You see, they tramp most of the way, and speak in the villages, and -small towns. Sometimes they are treated rather roughly.” - -Eve beheld the green country within the clasp of her arms, and was ready -to accept anything. - -“Yes, I’ll go. I should love to go. I’m strong, and I’m not afraid. I -think I want action.” - -“Yes, you are not made for dealing with harsh facts. They disgust you -too much, and weaken you. It is all temperament. You are one of those -who must spend themselves, obtain self-expression.” - -“I wonder how you know that?” - -“My dear, I was a woman before I became a thinker.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVII - - - ADVENTURES - - -Three women with dusty shoes and brown faces came along under the Downs -to Bignor village. They wore rough brown skirts, white blouses, and -straw hats, and each carried a knapsack strapped over her shoulder. - -Now Bignor is particularly and remotely beautiful, especially when you -have left the flat country behind you and climbed up to the church by -the winding lanes. It is pure country, almost uninvaded by modernity, -and so old in the midst of its perennial youth that you might hardly -wonder at meeting a Roman cohort on the march, or a bevy of -bronze-haired British girls laughing and singing between the hedgerows. -The village shop with its timber and thatch might be a wood-cut from a -romance. The Downs rise up against the blue, and their solemn green -slopes, over which the Roman highway climbs, seem to accentuate the -sense of silence and of mystery. Great beech woods shut in steep, secret -meadows. There are lush valleys where the grass grows tall, and flowers -dream in the sunlight. - -The three women came to Bignor church, and camped out in the churchyard -to make their midday meal. Eve Carfax was one of them, brown, -bright-eyed, with a red mouth that smiled mysteriously at beauty. Next -to her sat Joan Gaunt, lean, strenuous, with Roman nose, and abrupt -sharp-edged mouth. Her wrists and hands were big-boned and thin. The -line of her blouse and skirt showed hardly a curve. She wore square-toed -Oxford shoes, and very thick brown stockings. Lizzie Straker sat a -little apart, restless even in repose, a pinched frown set permanently -between her eyebrows, her assertive chin uptilted. She was the eloquent -splutterer, a slim, mercurial woman with prominent blue eyes and a lax -mouth, who protruded her lips when she spoke, and whose voice was a -challenge. - -Eve had wanted to turn aside to see the remains of the Roman villa, but -her companions had dropped scorn on the suggestion. - -“Wasting time on a few old bits of tesselated pavement! What have we got -to do with the Romans? It’s the present that matters!” - -Eve had suggested that one might learn something, even from the Romans, -and the glitter of fun in her eyes had set Lizzie Straker declaiming. - -“What tosh! And you call yourself an artist, and yet admire the Romans. -Don’t you know that artists were slaves at Rome? Don’t ask me to -consider any society that subsisted on slavery. It’s dead; doesn’t come -into one’s line of vision. I call archæology the most abominable -dilettante rot that was ever invented to make some old gentlemen bigger -bores than their neighbours.” - -And so she had spluttered on all the way to Bignor church, working her -voluble mouth, and punching the air with a small brown fist. The -eloquence was still in her when she opened her packet of sandwiches, and -her energy divided itself between declamation and disposing of mouthfuls -of bread and ham. - -Eve sat looking countrywards, thinking, “Oh, do be quiet!” She wanted to -lose herself in the beauty of the landscape, and she was in a mood to be -delighted by a fern growing in a wall, or by the way the fresh green of -a tree caught the sunlight. For the moment her spirit escaped and -climbed up among the branches of an old yew, and fluttered there in the -sparkling gloom, while Lizzie Straker kept up her caterwauling below. - -They had been on the open road for a fortnight, and Lizzie Straker still -had the autumn tints of a black eye that an apple thrown in a Sussex -village had given her. They had been hustled and chased on two -occasions, Joan Gaunt coming in for most of the eggs and flour, perhaps -because of her fierce leathery face and her defiant manner. Eve had -recollections of cleaning herself in a station waiting-room, while a -sergeant and two constables guarded the door. And, strange to say, some -of her sympathies had been with the crowd. - -These three women had tramped and suffered together, yet each day only -emphasised Eve’s discovery that she was failing to tone with her -companions. They had begun by boring her, and they were beginning to -exasperate her, rousing a spirit of antagonism that was ready to -criticise them without mercy. Never in her life had Eve been in the -presence of two such masses of ferocious prejudice. Their attitude -towards the country was in complete contrast to hers. They were two -blind fanatics on a pilgrimage, while Eve was a wayfarer whose eyes and -ears and nostrils were open to Nature. Joan Gaunt and Lizzie Straker -lived for words, bundles of phrases, arguments, assertions, accusations. -They were two polemical pamphlets on legs sent out walking over God’s -green earth. - -Eve noticed that their senses were less alive than hers, and that they -were absurdly unobservant. Perhaps they had passed a cottage garden full -of wallflowers, blood red and gold, and Eve had asked, “Did you smell -them?” - -“Smell what?” - -“The flowers.” - -“What flowers?” - -“The wallflowers in that garden.” - -They had neither seen nor smelt anything, and they had looked at her as -though she were a sentimental trifler. - -On another occasion, an orchard in bloom, filling a green hollow between -two woods, had made Eve stand gazing. - -“Isn’t that perfect?” - -Lizzie Straker saw nothing but what her mad prejudices were allowing her -to see. - -“I should like to come along with an axe and chop down all those trees. -It would make quite a good protest.” - -Eve had felt satirical. - -“Why shouldn’t we blow up Chanctonbury Ring?” - -And they had taken her seriously. - -“We should want such a lot of dynamite.” - -“But it’s an idea, quite an idea.” - -At the small town of Battle they had thirsted to blow up the great abbey -gateway, while Eve was letting her eyes take in all the grey beauty of -the stonework warmed by the evening sunlight. These two women had “a -mad” against property. Protest by violence was becoming an obsession -with them. They were like hostile troops marching through a rich and -hated land. - -Now, from the very first day in the country, a change had come over Eve. -A crust of hardness seemed to have fallen from her, and once more she -had felt herself to be the possessor of an impressionable and glowing -body, whose skin and senses responded to the sunlight, the winds, the -colours and the scent of the earth. She no longer felt like a little -pricking thorn in the big body of life. She belonged to the earth. She -was in the apple blossom and in the red flare of a bed of tulips. Self -was no longer dissevered from the all-consciousness of the life round -her. The tenderness came back to her, all those mysterious, elusive and -exultant moods that came she knew not whence and went she knew not -whither. She had ceased to be a pathological specimen corked up in a -bottle, and had become part of the colour and the smell, the joy and the -pathos of things vital. - -In the fields Eve saw lambs at play, skipping absurdly, butting each -other. Birds were singing and making love, and the bees were busy in the -furze. A sense of the immensity, of the exultant rush of life, possessed -her. And this pilgrimage of theirs, all this spouting and declaiming, -this lean-necked heroism, seemed futile and rather ridiculous. Was one -to tell Nature that she must stand aside, and order youth not to look -into the eyes of youth? It might serve for the few. They were like -children making castles and dykes and rivulets on the sands, within the -reach of the sea. Eve imagined that Nature must be amused, but that she -would wipe out these eccentricities so soon as they began to bore her. -She felt herself in the midst of elemental things; whereas Joan Gaunt -had studied botany in a museum. - -That afternoon they marched on to Pulborough, and, entering an inn, -announced to the landlord that they intended staying for the night. Joan -Gaunt managed the practical side of the pilgrimage. She entered the inn -with the air of an officer commanding food and beds in time of war. - -“Three bedrooms, and a cold supper at nine!” - -The landlord was a Sussex man, short, stolid, and laconic. He looked at -Joan Gaunt out of staring blue eyes, and asked whether their luggage had -been left at the station. - -“We have not got any luggage. We are on a walking tour. You can give us -our tea in the garden.” - -Joan Gaunt did not hear what the landlord said to his wife, who was -cleaning table-silver in a pantry at the end of a long passage. It was -terse and unflattering, and included such phrases as, “Three tooth -brushes and a change of stockings.” “A scrag of mutton without so much -as a frill to the bone end.” - -The three comrades had tea in the garden, and were studied suspiciously -by the landlord’s wife, a comely little woman with bright, brown eyes. -The few words that she uttered were addressed to Eve. - -“A nice May we’re having!” - -“Splendid.” - -And then Joan Gaunt proceeded to make an implacable enemy of her by -telling her to see that the beds were properly aired. - -About seven o’clock Pulborough discovered that it had been invaded by -suffragettes. Three women had stationed themselves with their backs to a -wall at a place where three roads met, and one of the women—it was -Lizzie Straker—brandished a small flag. Pulborough gathered. The news -spread somehow even to the outlying cottages. Stale eggs are to be found -even in the country, and a certain number of stale eggs rushed to attend -the meeting. - -Lizzie Straker was the speaker, and the people of Pulborough appeared to -discover something intensely funny in Lizzie Straker. Her enthusiastic -and earnest spluttering tickled them. The more she frowned and punched -the air with that brown fist of hers, the more amusing they found her. -The Executive had not been wise in its choice of an itinerant orator, -for Lizzie Straker lost her temper very quickly on such occasions, and -growing venomous, began to say scathing things, things that even a -Sussex brain can understand. - -Some of the younger spirits began to jeer. - -“Do you wonder she be’unt married!” - -“Can’t she talk! Like a kettle a-boiling over!” - -“What’s she wanting a vote for?” - -“I’ll tell you for why; to have laws made so as all the pretty girls -shall be sent off to Canada.” - -Their humour was hardly less crude than Lizzie Straker’s sneering -superiority. And then an egg flew, and broke against the wall behind -Joan Gaunt’s head. The crowd closed in threateningly. The flag was -snatched from Lizzie Straker, and someone threw a dead mouse in Joan -Gaunt’s face. - -The retreat to the inn was not dignified. The rest of the eggs followed -them, but for some reason or other Eve was spared. Her two comrades came -in for all the honour. The crowd accompanied them to the inn, and found -the blue-eyed landlord standing in the doorway. - -“Chuck ’em out, Mister Crowhurst!” - -“We don’t want the likes of them in Pulborough!” - -Joan Gaunt was for pushing her way in, and the landlord gave way. He -said a few words to the crowd, shut the door, and followed the -suffragettes into the long passage. - -“Sorry, ladies, but you’ll have to turn out. I can’t keep you. It isn’t -safe.” - -Lizzie Straker’s claws were still out. - -“But you have got to. You keep a public house. It’s the law!” - -A voice chimed in from the end of the passage: - -“John, I won’t have those women in my house! No, I won’t; that’s a fact. -They’ve got neither sense nor manners.” - -“All right, my dear.” - -“If I had my way, I’d have them all put in asylums. Disgusting fools. I -don’t care; let them summon us. I won’t have them in my house.” - -Joan Gaunt tried her Roman manner. - -“I shall insist on staying. Where are the police?” - -“That’s right, call for the men.” - -“Where are the police?” - -The landlord grinned. - -“Can’t say. I’ll take you out the back way, and through the orchard into -the fields. It’s getting dark.” - -“But we are not going.” - -“I shall let the crowd in, ladies, in three minutes. That’s all I have -got to say.” - -Eve ran upstairs and brought down the three knapsacks. - -“Let’s go,” she said, “we’re causing a lot of bother.” - -“That’s the only sensible one of the lot,” said the voice, “and what’s -more, she’s worth looking at.” - -The crowd was growing restive and noisy. There was the sound of breaking -glass. The landlord jerked a thumb in the direction of the front door. - -“There you are—they’re getting nasty. You come along with me!” - -They went under protest, with the exception of Eve, who paused at the -end of the passage and spoke to the little woman with the brown eyes. - -“I’m sorry. I’ll send some money for the glass. And what do we owe for -the tea?” - -“Three shillings, miss. Thank you. And what do you do it for?” - -Eve laughed. - -“Oh, well, you see——” - -“I wouldn’t go along with those scrags, if I were you. It’s silly!” - -The little woman had pluck, for she went out to cajole the crowd, and -kept it in play while her husband smuggled the suffragettes through the -garden and orchard and away across the fields. They escaped unmolested, -and the dusk covered their retreat. - -After the landlord had left them they walked about three miles and lost -themselves completely and thoroughly in a net-work of by-roads. Shelter -for the night became a consideration, and it was Eve who sighted a -haystack in the corner of a field, and who suggested it as a refuge. -They scrambled over a gate and found that the haystack had been cut -into, and that there was a deep fragrant walled recess sheltered from -the road. - -Lizzie Straker began to pull down some loose hay and spread it to make a -cushion. - -“We must teach those savages a lesson. We ought to set fire to this in -the early morning.” - -Eve was tired of Lizzie Straker. - -“I don’t think that would be sport, burning the thing that has sheltered -you.” - -The hay was fragrant, but it could not mask the odour that had attached -itself to her companions’ clothes. Eve had been spared the rotten eggs, -but she was made to suffer indirectly, and persuaded to edge away into -the corner of the recess. They had had to fly without their supper, and -a few dry rock-cakes and some biscuits were all that they had in their -knapsacks. - -Lizzie Straker produced a candle-end and a box of matches. It was a -windless night, and by the light of the candle the two women examined -each other’s scars. - -“We might get some of it off with the hay.” - -“Isn’t it disgusting! And no water to wash in.” - -They proceeded to rub each other down, taking turns in holding the -candle. - -Eve had a suggestion to make. - -“You will have to get some new blouses at the next town. I shall have to -go in and shop for you.” - -They glanced at her critically, realising for the first time that she -had escaped without any of the marks of martyrdom. - -“Didn’t you get any?” - -“No; you seem to have been the favourites.” - -“Disgusting savages!” - -“The Sussex people always were the worst boors in England.” - -When they had made some sort of job of their mutual grooming, and had -eaten a few rock-cakes and biscuits, Joan Gaunt unbuttoned her blouse -and drew from the inner depths a long white envelope. Lizzie Straker -sidled nearer, still holding the candle. Eve had not seen this envelope -before. - -She stood up and looked down over their shoulders as they sat. Joan -Gaunt had drawn out a sheet of foolscap that was covered with cipher. - -Lizzie Straker pointed an eager finger. - -“That’s the place. It’s between Horsham and Guildford.” - -“And there’s no proper caretaker, only a man at the lodge.” - -“We can make a blaze of it. We shall hear from Galahad at Horsham.” - -They were human enough to feel a retaliating vindictiveness, after the -way they had been pelted at Pulborough, and Eve, looking down at the -paper that Joan Gaunt held, realised at last that they were incendiaries -as well as preachers. She could not read the precious document, but she -guessed what it contained. - -“Is that our Black List?” - -“Yes.” - -They did not offer to explain the cipher to her, for she was still -something of a probationer. Moreover the candle was guttering out, and -Lizzie Straker had to smother it in the grass beside the stack. Eve -returned to her corner, made a nest, took off her hat, and, turning her -knapsack into a pillow, lay down to look at the stars. A long day in the -open had made her sleepy, but Joan Gaunt and Lizzie Straker were still -talking. Eve fell asleep, with the vindictive and conspiring murmur of -their voices in her ears. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVIII - - - THE MAN WITH THE MOTOR - - -Eve woke with the scent of hay in her nostrils, and her hair was damp -with dew. - -She sat up, and from that brown nook on the hill-side looked out upon a -world that was all white mist, with a great silver sun struggling out of -the east. Each blade of grass had its droplet of dew. The air was still -as deep water. From a wood in the valley came the sound of the singing -of birds. - -Her two companions were still asleep, Joan Gaunt lying with her mouth -wide open, her face looking grey and old. Eve picked up an armful of -hay, went a few paces forward, and sat down so that she could see -everything without having to look over the bodies of the sleeping women. - -It was like watching the birth of a world. The veil of white mist hid -miraculous happenings, and the singing of the birds down yonder was like -the exultation of souls that beheld and marvelled. Mystery! The -stillness seemed to wait. In a little while the white veil would be -withdrawn. - -Then the vapour became full of sudden motion. It rolled in great drifts, -rose, broke into little wisps of smoke, and half lost itself in yellow -light. The interplay was wonderful to watch. Sometimes the mist closed -in again, hiding what it had half revealed, only to drift away once more -like torn masses of gossamer. A great yellow ray of sunlight struck -abruptly across the valley, fell upon the wood where the birds were -singing, and splashed it with gold. Then the mist seemed to be drawn up -like a curtain. Colour came into the landscape, the bronze and yellow of -the budding oaks, the delicate green of young beech leaves, the sables -of yews and firs, the blue of the sky, the green of the fields. It was -all wet, fragrant, glittering, like an elf world lifted suddenly out of -the waters of an enchanted sea. - -Someone sneezed. Eve turned sharply, and found Joan Gaunt was awake, and -sitting up. Wisps of hay had got tangled in her hair, her blouse looked -like an impressionist sunset, and one side of her face was red and -mottled from lying on the canvas knapsack. She had been awake for ten -minutes, and had pulled out a notebook and was scribbling in it with a -pencil. - -Eve thought that she was turning the May morning into a word picture, -but she soon noticed that Joan Gaunt’s eyes did not rise above the level -of her notebook. - -“Busy already?” - -“Yes.” - -“Isn’t it wonderful?” - -“What?” - -“Why, all that.” - -Eve swept a hand towards the valley where the smoking squadrons of the -mist were in full flight before the gold spears of the sun. - -“It looks as though it has been abominably damp. I’m quite stiff and -I’ve caught cold.” - -She blew her nose hard, and, like the impervious enthusiast that she -was, resumed her scribbling. Eve left her undisturbed, and returning to -her corner of the recess let her hair down, and spent ten minutes -brushing it. She had very fine hair, it reached well below her waist, -and Lizzie Straker, who had just woke up, found something to say on the -subject. - -“It must be a nuisance, having a fleece like that.” - -“Why?” - -“So beastly hot. I should like to have mine cut quite short.” - -The obvious answer, though Eve did not give it, was that some people’s -hair did not matter. - -She went exploring in quest of somebody who would provide them with -towels and water, and also with breakfast. And when they did get -breakfast at a little farmhouse over the hill, her companions had to -thank Eve for it, for the farmer’s wife was not a persuadable person, -and would certainly have refused anything to Joan Gaunt or Lizzie -Straker. Their white blouses were splashed and streaked with yellow, but -luckily the sitting-room was rather dark, and the farmer’s wife was not -observant. - -But Eve had seen these blouses in the full sunlight, and was candid in -her criticism. - -“You must stop at the next village, and buy a couple of new blouses!” - -“Why, what does it matter?” - -Lizzie Straker was in a touchy and argumentative mood. - -“They really look too terrible!” - -“I don’t care. It is a reflection on those savages.” - -“I suppose you don’t want to be too conspicuous when you are out to burn -houses!” - -This was sound sense, and they halted that day within a mile or two of -Horsham and let Eve go on alone to buy two new blouses. The -transfiguration was contrived in the corner of a wood, and the -egg-stained relics were rolled up and stowed away in their knapsacks. - -Apparently they were expected at Horsham, not by the public or the -police, but by the elderly gentlewoman at whose front door Joan Gaunt -knocked. They were received with enthusiasm by an excitable lady with a -high, narrow forehead and prominent teeth. She could talk nearly as fast -as Lizzie Straker, and she gave them a most excellent tea. - -“I think it is splendid, perfectly splendid, this heroic uprising of the -women of England. The Government can’t stop us. How can they stop us? We -have got the men stalemated.” - -Eve did not take to her hostess, and their hostess did not take to Eve. -She looked at her with the veiled prejudices of a very plain woman for a -girl who had more than good looks. Moreover, Eve had recovered her sense -of humour, and these enthusiasts were rendered suspicious and uneasy by -a glimmer of fun in the eyes. People who could laugh were not -vindictively and properly in earnest. - -“They can’t stop us. They can’t crush women who are not afraid of dying! -Isn’t it glorious the way those noble girls have fought and refused to -eat in prison? I know one woman who kept four wardresses at bay for half -an hour. She kicked and struggled, and they had to give up trying to -feed her. What fools we are making the men look! I feel I want to laugh -in the faces of all the men I meet!” - -Eve asked mildly: “And do you?” - -“Do what?” - -“Laugh when you meet them?” - -“Well, no, not quite. It wouldn’t be dignified, would it? But I think -they see the triumph in my eyes.” - -Their hostess had forgotten that a letter had come for Joan Gaunt, and -she only remembered it when Joan asked if it had arrived. - -“Of course—how silly of me! I locked it up in my bureau. I was so -fascinated listening to all your adventures.” - -She fetched the letter, and Joan Gaunt read it. She smiled her leathery -smile, and passed the letter over to Lizzie Straker. - -“To-morrow night, where the road to Godalming branches off from the -Horsham-Guildford road.” - -The hostess thrilled and upset her cup. - -“How exciting—how splendid! I can guess, yes, what you are going to do. -And you will be able to stay the night here? How nice. The people here -are such barbarians; so narrow. I try to spread the great ideal, but -they don’t seem to care.” - -At all events she treated them nobly, and Eve was able to enjoy the -sensuous delight of a good hot bath. She went to bed early, leaving her -hostess and the two pioneers of progress sitting well forward in their -chairs, and debating the conversion of those women who clung -sentimentally to the old traditions. - -Their hostess was curious about Eve. - -“A probationer, a novice, I suppose?” - -“She is learning the discipline.” - -“I have very quick instincts. I don’t think I quite trust that young -woman.” - -Lizzie Straker, who was always ready to argue about anything, simply -because she had a temperament that disagreed, rushed to defend Eve. - -“Why, what’s the matter with her? She came down to starving point, -anyhow, for a principle. If that isn’t being sincere, what is?” - -Their hostess was not accustomed to being met and attacked with such -impetuosity. - -“She doesn’t strike me as belonging to us.” - -“Why not?” - -“As I explained, it was my impression. She doesn’t strike me as being -serious minded.” - -“Anyway, she didn’t sit in a chair and theorise. She’s been through the -real thing.” - -Joan Gaunt had to interpose, for the gentlewoman of Horsham was showing -signs of huffiness. - -“Mrs. Falconer sent her with us.” - -“Mrs. Falconer? That noble woman. I am satisfied. She should know.” - -They left Horsham about five o’clock the following evening, their -knapsacks well packed with food. The gentlewoman of Horsham dismissed -them with the fervour of an early Christian, and held Joan Gaunt’s hands -for fully half a minute. - -“It has been such an experience for me. It has been like seeing one’s -dearest ideals in the flesh. God bless you!” - -Joan Gaunt went striding along the Guildford road like a veteran -centurion, grim and purposeful. Lizzie Straker had a headache, and Eve -offered to carry her knapsack and coat, but Lizzie Straker had a kind of -soldier pride. She would carry her own kit till she dropped. - -“Don’t fuss me, old girl. I’m all right.” - -Eve enjoyed the long walk, perhaps because her companions were silent. A -soft spring dusk was melting over the country. Birds were singing. There -were yellow gates to the west. The hedgerows were clean and unsoiled by -dust, and a delightful freshness distilled out of the blue-green grass. - -It was pitch dark long before they reached the point where the road -branched off to Godalming, though the sky was crowded with stars. Joan -Gaunt had bought a little electric hand-lamp in Horsham, and it served -to light up the sign-posts and the dial of her watch. - -“Here we are.” - -She had flashed the light on a sign-post arm and read “Godalming.” - -“What’s the time?” - -“About half-past ten.” - -“Galahad won’t be here till midnight.” - -“No. You have time for a rest.” - -Lizzie Straker was fagged out. Eve could tell that by the flatness of -her voice. They went and sat in a dry ditch under the shadow of a hedge, -and put on their jackets, for the double purpose of keeping warm and -hiding their white blouses. Lizzie Straker lay down with her knapsack -under her head, and in ten minutes she was asleep. - -“We won’t talk!” - -“No. I’m quite ready for a rest.” - -A couple of farm labourers passed, one of them airing a grievance, the -condemning of his pig by some sanitary official. “I be’unt a fool. A -touch of de joint evil, dat’s what it be. But he comes and he swears it -be tu-ber-coo-lousis, and says I be to slaughter d’beast.” The voice -died away, bemoaning the fate of the pig, and Eve felt a drowsiness -descending upon her eyelids. She remembered Joan Gaunt sitting erect and -watchful beside her, and then dreams came. - -She woke suddenly to find two huge glaring eyes lighting the road. They -were the headlights of a stationary motor, and she heard the purr of the -engine turning dead slow. Someone was speaking. A high pitched, jerky -and excitable voice was giving orders. - -“Turn out the headlights, Jones, and light the oil lamps. You had better -shove in another can of petrol. Well, here we are; on the tick—what!” - -Joan Gaunt’s voice answered him. - -“Last time you were an hour late.” - -“That’s good. We had two punctures, you know. Where are the others?” - -“Asleep in the ditch.” - -Eve woke Lizzie Straker. The headlights went out suddenly, and two -figures approached, one of them carrying the tail lamp of the car. - -“Hallo, it’s Galahad!” - -Lizzie Straker’s short sleep had restored her vitality. She spluttered -enthusiastically at the man. - -“Hallo, old sport! here we are, ready for the limelight. Plenty of -paraffin and shavings?” - -“Rather!” - -He turned the lamp on Eve so that she could see nothing but a round -yellow eye. - -“New comrade? Greetings!” - -Joan Gaunt introduced them. - -“Mr. Lawrence Kentucky—Miss Eve Carfax. We call him our Galahad.” - -The man laughed, and his laughter was falsetto. She could not see him, -except when he swung the lamp away from her, and then but dimly, but she -received the impression of something tall, fidgety, and excitable. - -“Delightful! One more fair lady to champion. Great adventures, great -adventures!” - -Eve soon noticed that Lizzie Straker was particularly interested in Mr. -Lawrence Kentucky. She hung close, talking in slangy superlatives, and -trying to spread her personality all round him. - -“How many miles an hour to-day?” - -“Oh, we came easy! Respectable tourists, you know. All ready, Jones?” - -“All ready, sir.” - -“Supposing we heave up the anchor? There’s plenty of room for three at -the back.” - -“But what about the house? Do you know it?” - -“Rather! We’re thorough, you know. Jones and I went over all the ground -two days ago. We have it all mapped out to a T.” - -“I’m going to set light to this one. Joan had the last.” - -“All right, your honour, although Miss Gaunt’s one up.” - -Joan Gaunt climbed in independently. Lizzie Straker waited to be helped. -Mr. Kentucky helped Eve, because he had discovered something of the -eternal feminine. - -To Eve the adventure began by seeming utterly unreal. Even when the -motor drew up in a dark lane, and the lights were turned out after the -attacking party had loaded themselves with bags of shavings, tow, and a -can of petrol, she was hardly convinced that she was off to help in -burning down a house. She asked herself why she was doing it. The spirit -of revolt failed to answer in a voice that was passionate enough to be -convincing. - -They went in single file, Lawrence Kentucky leading the way. He carried -an electric torch which he used from time to time like a boy out for -mischief. They climbed a gate, crossed a grass field, and came to a -fence backed by straggling laurels and hollies. There was a place where -two or three of the fence palings were rotten and had been kicked in by -Mr. Kentucky when he had come to spy out the land. They squeezed -through, one by one. - -Someone whispered to Eve as she stooped to pass through. - -“Mind the nails. I’ll show you a light.” - -His torch glowed, and she had a momentary glimpse of his face, thin, -neurotic, with restless eyes, and a mouth that had the voracious look -that one sees in men who are always hungry for some new sensation. She -could have imagined him swearing volubly, laughing hysterically, biting -his pipe stems in two, a whimsical egoist who rushed hither and thither -to escape from being bored. - -“All right? Rather like playing oranges and lemons.” - -She knew at once that he wanted to flirt with her, but she had no desire -to cut out Lizzie Straker. - -They threaded through a big shrubbery, and came out against a black mass -piled in the middle of a broad lawn. It was the house they had come to -burn. - -“The kitchen window, Jones—at it with the glass-cutter! Who’ll stay -outside and keep cave?” - -Eve offered herself. - -“Why, you’ll miss half the fun.” - -“I don’t mind.” - -The grass on the lawn promised a good hay crop. There was a wooden seat -built round the trunk of an old lime, and Eve settled herself there -after the others had disappeared. The night was absolutely soundless, -stars scattered like dust above the solid parapet and low roof of the -red brick Georgian house. It stood there, mute, deserted, with sightless -eyes, and a sudden pity seized on Eve. It was as though the house were -alive, and she was helping to do it to death. Houses were part of life. -They held a spiritual and impalpable something that mattered. They had -souls. She began to watch, as though she was to be present at a tragedy, -with a feeling of tension at her heart. - -Who had lived there? To whom did the house belong? Had children been -born yonder, and had tired eyes closed in death? Had children played in -the garden, and under this tree? It was illogical to pity bricks and -mortar, and yet this sentimental mood of hers belonged to those more -exquisite sensibilities that save life from being nothing better than a -savage scramble. - -A streak of light showed at one of the windows. Eve straightened -herself, rested her head against the trunk of the tree, and held her -breath. The streak of light spread into a wavering, fluctuating glow, -just as if the heart of the old house were palpitating angrily. But Eve -was allowed no leisure for the play of such phantasies. The incendiaries -returned. - -“Come along!” - -Lizzie Straker was almost hysterical. - -“It’s going splendidly—splendidly! We found a big cupboard full of -rubbish under the stairs. I lit it. Yes, it’s my work!” - -Eve became conscious of a growing indignation as they beat a retreat -back through the shrubbery and across the field to the lane. They ran, -and even the act of running seemed to her shameful. What a noble -business was this sneaking about at one in the morning with petrol cans -and bags of shavings! - -She snubbed Lawrence Kentucky when he pointed back over the field gate -and chuckled. - -“She’s going up in smoke all right. We did that pretty smartly!” - -“It has been heroic, hasn’t it?” - -To her he was no better than a mean little boy. - -They crowded into the car. The lamps were lit, and the engine started. -The chauffeur drove dead slow along the lane. - -“That’s it, Jones; crawl for half a mile, and keep her as quiet as you -can.” - -In another five minutes they were purring away into the darkness. Eve, -when she glanced back, could see a faint glow above the tree tops. - -Lizzie Straker exulted. - -“There is something for them to talk about! That will be in the papers -to-morrow.” - -Eve did not know how far they drove. The car kept running for the best -part of two hours. Mr. Lawrence Kentucky was finessing, covering up -their tracks, so to speak. He turned in his seat once or twice and spoke -to Joan Gaunt. Day was just dawning when the car pulled up. - -“This ought to do for you. You are three or four miles from Farnham, and -this is Crooksbury Hill.” - -Eve threw aside her rug and climbed out. They had stopped on a flinty -road among the towering trunks of a wood of Scots firs. The branches -high overhead seemed a black tangle hanging in the vague grey light of -the dawn. Not a bough moved. The great trees were asleep. - -“I’ll be getting on. Running to Oxford. Put ’em off the scent. Write and -fix up the next. London address, you know.” - -He was saying good-bye, and receiving Lizzie Straker’s more than -friendly splutterings. The chauffeur, a swarthy young blackguard, was -grinning behind his master’s back. Mr. Lawrence Kentucky stared hard at -Eve, for she was good to look at in the dawn light, with the smell of -the dew everywhere, and the great trees dreaming overhead. - -“Au revoir, Miss Carfax! Hope you’ve enjoyed it.” - -She gave him a casual nod, and went and sat down on the bank at the side -of the road. - -Joan Gaunt and Lizzie Straker, like the hardy veterans that they were, -lay down under the trees to snatch an hour or two’s sleep, but Eve felt -wakeful and in a mood for thought. The night’s adventure had left her -with an impression of paltriness, and she kept picturing the black shell -of the burnt house standing pathetically in the midst of its neglected -garden. She remembered Lawrence Kentucky’s chuckle, a peculiarly -offensive and sneering chuckle. Was that the sort of man who could be -called a pioneer of progress, or a knight of Arthur’s Court? It struck -her as pathetic that these women should have christened him Galahad. It -just betrayed how little they knew about men. - -She looked up at the tall trees and was instantly reminded of the fir -woods at Fernhill. A quiver of emotion swept through her. It had been -just such a dawn as this when she had fled from Orchards Corner. She -realised that she was wiser, broader, less sentimental now, and that -Canterton had not been the passionate visionary that she had thought -him. - -Lizzie Straker woke up and shouted “Breakfast!” - -The gentlewoman of Horsham had fitted them out royally. They had a tea -kettle to boil over a fire of dead wood, a big bottle of water, ham -sandwiches, buttered scones, and a tin of Swiss milk. Even a tin opener -had been included. That breakfast under Crooksbury Hill reminded Eve of -Lynette’s fairy picnics in the Wilderness. The larches would be all -covered with green tassels. She wished she was with Lynette in the -Wilderness. - -Breakfast over, Joan Gaunt brought out her itinerary. - -“Where do we go next? I’ve forgotten.” - -Lizzie Straker licked a finger that had managed to get itself smeared -with Swiss milk. - -“Let’s see. Something beginning with B, wasn’t it?” - -“Yes—Basingford.” - -The pupils of Eve’s eyes dilated. They were going to Basingford! - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIX - - - LYNETTE - - -They found themselves at the “Black Boar” at Basingford, sitting round a -green table under a may tree in the garden. The “Black Boar” was an -ancient hostelry, all white plaster, black beams, and brown tiles, its -sign swinging on a great carved bracket, its parlour full of pewter and -brass. It had the pleasant smell of a farmhouse rather than the sour -odour of an inn. Everything was clean, the brick-floored passages, the -chintz curtains at the windows, the oak stairs, the white coverlets on -the solid mahogany beds. A big grandfather clock tick-tocked in the main -passage. The garden at the back ended in a bowling-green that was -remarkably well kept, its mown sward catching the yellow evening light -through the branches of ancient elms. - -They were having tea under the may tree, whose trusses of white blossom -showered down an almost too sweet perfume. At the edge of the lawn was a -border packed full of wallflowers, blood red and cloth of gold. It was -sunny and windless. The tops of the tall elms were silhouetted against -the blue. - -“Are you going to preach here?” - -It was Eve who asked the question, and Joan Gaunt who answered it. - -“No. We are just private individuals on a walking tour.” - -“I see. And that means?” - -“Someone on the Black List.” - -Eve smothered a sigh of relief. From the moment of entering Basingford -she had felt the deep waters of life flowing under her soul. She was -herself, and more than herself. A strange, premonitory exultation had -descended on her. Her mood was the singing of a bird at dawn, full of -the impulse of a mysterious delight, and of a vitality that hovered on -quivering wings. The lure of the spring was in her blood, and she was -ready to laugh at the crusading faces of her comrades. - -She pushed back her chair. - -“I shall go and have a wash.” - -“What, another wash!” - -Her laughter was a girl’s laughter. - -“I like to see the water dimpling in the sunlight, and I like the old -Willow Pattern basins. What are you going to do?” - -Joan had letters to write. Lizzie was reading a book on “Sex and -Heredity.” - -Eve left them under the may tree, washed her face and hands in the blue -basin, tidied her hair, put on her hat with unusual discrimination, and -went out to play the truant. - -She simply could not help it. The impulse would brook no argument. She -walked through Basingford in the direction of Fernhill. She wanted to -see the familiar outlines of the hills, to walk along under the cypress -hedges, to feel herself present in the place that she loved so well. For -the moment she was conscious of no purpose that might bring her into -human contact with Fernhill. She wanted memories. The woman in her -desired to feel! - -Her first glimpse of the pine woods made her heart go faster. Here were -all the familiar lanes and paths. Some of the trees were her intimates, -especially a queer dwarf who had gone all to tam-o’-shanter. Even the -ditches ran in familiar shadow lines, carrying her memories along. From -the lodge gate she could see the top of the great sequoia that grew on -the lawn before the Fernhill house. It was absurd how it all affected -her. She could have laughed, and she could have wept. - -Then a voice, a subtle yet imperious voice, said, “Go down to the -Wilderness!” She bridled at the suggestion, only to remind herself that -she knew a path that would take her round over the hill and down into -the valley where the larches grew. The impulse was stronger than -anything that she could oppose to it. She went. - -The green secrecy of the wood received her. She passed along the winding -path between the straight, stiff poles of the larches, the gloom of the -dead lower boughs making the living green above more vivid. It was like -plunging from realism into romance, or opening some quaint old book -after reading an article on the workings of the London County Council. -Eve was back in the world of beauty, of mystery and strangeness. The -eyes could not see too far, yet vision was stopped by crowded and -miraculous life and not by bricks and mortar. - -The trees thinned. She was on the edge of the fairy dell, and she paused -instinctively with a feeling that was akin to awe. How the sunlight -poured down between the green tree tops. Three weeks ago the bluebells -must have been one spreading mist of lapis-lazuli under the gloom of the -criss-cross branches. And the silence of it all. She knew herself to be -in the midst of mystery, of a vital something that mattered more than -all the gold in the world. - -Supposing Lynette should be down yonder? - -Eve went forward slowly, and looked over the lip of the dell. - -Lynette was there, kneeling in front of the toy stove that Eve had sent -her for Christmas. - -An extraordinary uprush of tenderness carried Eve away. She stood on the -edge of the dell and called: - -“Lynette! Lynette!” - -The child’s hair flashed as she turned sharply. Her face looked up at -Eve, wonderingly, mute with surprise. Then she was up and running, her -red lips parted, her eyes alight. - -“Miss Eve! Miss Eve!” - -They met half way, Eve melting towards the running child like the -eternal mother-spirit that opens its arms and catches life to its bosom. -They hugged and kissed. Lynette’s warm lips thrilled the woman in Eve -through and through. - -“Oh, my dear, you haven’t forgotten me!” - -“I knew—I knew you’d come back again!” - -“How did you know?” - -“Because I asked God. God must like to do nice things sometimes, and of -course, when I kept asking Him——. And now you’ve come back for ever -and ever!” - -“Oh, no, no!” - -“But you have. I asked God for that too, and I have been so good that I -don’t see, Miss Eve, dear, how He could have said no.” - -Eve laughed, soft, tender laughter that was on the edge of tears. - -“So you are still making feasts for the fairies?” - -“Yes, come and look. The water ought to be boiling. I’ve got your stove. -It’s a lovely stove. Daddy and I make tea in it, and it’s splendid.” - -Every thing was in readiness, the water on the boil, the fairy teapot -waiting to be filled, the sugar and milk standing at attention. Eve and -Lynette knelt down side by side. They were back in the Golden Age, where -no one knew or thought too much, and where no one was greedy. - -“And they drink the tea up every night?” - -“Nearly every night. And they’re so fond of cheese biscuits.” - -“I don’t see any biscuits!” - -“No, daddy brings them in his pocket. He’ll be here any minute. Won’t it -be a surprise!” - -Eve awoke; the dream was broken; she started to her feet. - -“Dear, I must be getting back.” - -“Oh, no, no!” - -“Yes, really.” - -Lynette seized her hands. - -“You shan’t go. And, listen, there’s daddy!” - -Eve heard a deep voice singing in a soft monotone, the voice of one who -hardly knew what he was singing. - -She stood rigid, face averted, Lynette still holding her hands and -looking up intently into her face. - -“Miss Eve, aren’t you glad to see daddy?” - -“Why, yes.” - -A sudden silence fell. The man’s footsteps had paused on the edge of the -wood. It was as though the life in both of them held its breath. - -Eve turned. She had to turn to face something that was inevitable. He -was coming down the bank, his face in the sunlight, his eyes staring -straight at her as though there were nothing else in the whole world for -him to look at. - -Lynette’s voice broke the silence. - -“Daddy, she wanted to run away!” - -Eve bent over her. - -“Oh, child, child!” - -Her face hid itself for a moment in Lynette’s hair. - -She heard Canterton speaking, and something in his voice helped and -steadied her. - -“Lynette has caught a fairy. She was always a very confident mortal. How -are you—how are you?” - -He held out his hand, the big brown hand she remembered so well, and -hers went into it. - -“Oh, a little older!” - -“But not too old for fairyland.” - -“May I never be too old for that.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XL - - - WHAT THEY SAID TO EACH OTHER - - -They walked back through the larchwood with Lynette between them, -keeping them apart, and yet holding a hand of each. - -“Miss Eve, where’ve you been all the winter? In London?” - -“Yes, in London.” - -“Do you like London better than Fernhill?” - -“No, not better. You see, there are no fairies in London.” - -“And did you paint pictures in London?” - -“Sometimes. But people are in too much of a hurry to look at pictures.” - -Miss Vance, as much the time-table as ever, met them where the white -gate opened on to the heath garden. It was Lynette’s supper hour, an -absurd hour, she called it, but she obeyed Miss Vance with great -meekness, remembering that God still had to be kept without an excuse -for being churlish. - -Eve and Miss Vance smiled reminiscently at each other. It was Miss -Vance’s last term at Fernhill. - -“Good night, Miss Eve, dear. You will come again to-morrow?” - -“Yes; I will try to.” - -Canterton and Eve were left alone together, standing by the white gate -that opened into the great gardens of Fernhill. Canterton had been -silent, smilingly silent. Eve had dreaded being left alone with him, but -now that she was alone with him, she found that the dread had passed. - -“Will you come and see the gardens?” - -“May I?” - -He opened the gate and she passed through. - -May was a month that Eve had missed at Fernhill, and it was one of the -most opulent of months, the month of rhododendrons, azaleas, late -tulips, anemones, and Alpines. Never since last year’s roses had she -seen such colour, such bushes of fire, such quiet splendour. It was a -beauty that overwhelmed and silenced; Oriental in some of its -magnificence, yet wholly pure. - -The delicate colouring of the azaleas fascinated her. - -“I never knew there were such subtle shades. What are they?” - -“Ghents. They are early this year. Most people know only the old Mollis. -There are such an infinite number of colours.” - -“These are just like fire—magic fire, burning pale, and burning red, -the colour of amber, or the colour of rubies.” - -They wandered to and fro, Eve pointing out the flowers that pleased her. - -“We think the same as we did last year—am I to know anything?” - -She looked up at him quickly, with a quivering of the lashes. - -“Oh, yes, if you wish it! But I am not a renegade.” - -“I never suggested it. How is London?” - -Her face hardened a little, and her mouth lost its exquisite delight. - -“Being here, I realise how I hate London to live and struggle in. What -is the use of pretending? I tried my strength there, and I was beaten. -So now——” - -She paused, shrinking instinctively from telling him that she had become -one of the marching, militant women. Fernhill, and this man’s presence, -seemed to have smothered the aggressive spirit—rendered it superfluous. - -His eyes waited. - -“Well?” - -“I am on a walking tour with friends.” - -“Painting?” - -“No, proselytising.” - -“As a Suffragette?” - -“Yes, as a Militant Suffragette.” - -She detested the label with which she had to label herself, for she had -a sure feeling that it would not impress him. - -“I had wondered.” - -His voice was level and unprejudiced. - -“Then it doesn’t shock you?” - -“No, because I know what life may have been for you, trying to sell art -to pork-butchers. It is hard not to become bitter. Won’t you let me hear -the whole story?” - -They were in the rosery, close to a seat set back in a recess cut in the -yew hedge. Eve thought of that day when she had found him watching -Guinevere. - -“Would you listen?” - -“I have been listening ever since the autumn, trying to catch any sounds -that might come to me from where you were.” - -They sat down, about two feet apart, half turned towards each other. But -Eve did not look at Canterton. She looked at the stone paths, the pruned -rose bushes, the sky, the outlines of the distant firs. Words came -slowly at first, but in a while she lost her self-consciousness. She -felt that she could tell him everything, and she told him everything, -even her adventure with Hugh Massinger. - -And then, suddenly, she was conscious that a cloud had come. She glanced -at his face, and saw that he was angry. - -“Why didn’t you write?” - -“I couldn’t. And you are angry with me?” - -“With you! Good God, no! I am angry with society, with that particular -cad, and that female, the Champion woman. I think I shall go and half -kill that man.” - -She stretched out a hand. - -“Don’t! I should not have told you. Besides, it is all over.” - -He contradicted her. - -“No, these things leave a mark—an impression.” - -“Need it be a bad one?” - -“Perhaps not. It depends.” - -“On ourselves? Don’t you think that I am broader, wiser, more the queen -of my own soul? I am beginning to laugh again.” - -He stared at his clasped hands, and then raised his eyes suddenly to her -face. - -“Eve!” - -His uttering of the name thrilled her. - -“If you are wiser, why are you gadding about with these fools?” - -She gave a little nervous laugh. - -“Oh, because they were kind to me, because they are out to better things -for women.” - -“Have they a monopoly of all the kindness?” - -“I—I don’t know.” - -“Yes, you do. I am an ordinary sort of man in many ways, and we, the -average men, have a growing understanding of what are called the wrongs -of women. Give me one.” - -She flushed slightly, and hesitated. - -“They—they want us to bribe them when we want work—success.” - -“I know. It is the blackguard’s game. But women can change that. The -best men want to change it. But I ask you, are there no female cads who -demand of men what some men demand of women?” - -“You mean——” - -“It is not all on one side. How are many male careers made? Isn’t there -favouritism there too? I know men who would never be where they are, but -for the fact that they were sexually favoured by certain women. I could -quote you some pretty extraordinary cases, high up, near the summit. -Besides, a sex war is the maddest sort of war that could be imagined.” - -She felt driven to bay. - -“But can we help fighting sometimes?” - -“There is a difference between quarrelling and fighting.” - -“Oh, come!” - -“There is, when you come to think about it. I want neither. Does -quarrelling ever help us?” - -“It may.” - -“When it drags us at once to a lower, baser, more prejudiced level? And -do you think that these fanatics who burn houses are helping their -cause?” - -“Some of them have suffered very bitterly.” - -“Yes, and that is the very plea that damns them. They are egotists who -must advertise their sufferings. Supposing we all behaved like lunatics -when we had a grievance? Isn’t there something finer and more convincing -than that? The real women are winning the equality that they want, but -these fools are only raising obstinate prejudices. Am I, a fairly -reasonable man, to be bullied, threatened and nagged at? Instinctively -the male fist comes up, the fist that balances the woman’s sharper -tongue. For God’s sake, don’t let us get to back-alley arguments. Sex is -marriage, marriage at its best, reasonable and human. Let’s talk things -over by the fireside, try not to be little, try to understand each -other, try to play the game together. What is the use of kicking the -chessboard over? Perhaps other people, our children, have to pick up the -pieces.” - -Because she had more than a suspicion that he was right, she began to -quote Mrs. Falconer, and to give him all the extreme theories. He -listened closely enough, but she knew intuitively that he was utterly -unimpressed. - -“Do you yourself believe all that?” - -“No; not all of it.” - -“It comes to this, you are quoting abnormal people. You can’t generalise -for the million on the idiosyncrasies of the few. These women are -abnormal.” - -“But the workers are normal.” - -“Many of them lead abnormal lives. But do you think that we men do not -want to see all that bettered?” - -“Then you would give us the vote?” - -Her eyes glimmered with sudden mischief, and his answered them. - -“Certainly, to the normal women. Why not?” - -“Are all the male voters normal?” - -“Don’t make me say cynical things. If so many hundreds of thousands of -fools have the vote at present, I do not see that it matters much if -many more thousands of fools are given it.” - -“That isn’t you!” - -“It is a sensible, if a cynical conclusion. But I hope for something -better. We are at school, we moderns, and we may be a little too clever. -But if any parson tells me that we are not better than our forefathers, -I can only call him a liar.” - -She laughed. - -“Oh, that’s healthy—that’s sound. I’m tired of thinking—criticising. I -want to do things. It may be that quiet work in a corner is better than -all the talking that ever was.” - -“Of course. Read Pasteur’s life. There’s the utter damning of the merely -political spirit.” - -He pulled out his watch and looked at it reflectively. - -“Half-past six. Where are you staying?” - -“At the ‘Black Boar.’” - -“I have something that I should like to show you. Have you time?” - -She smiled at him shyly. - -“Now and again time doesn’t matter.” - -Canterton led her through the great plantations to the wild land on the -edge of the fir woods where he had built the new cottage. It was -finished, but empty. The garden had been turfed and planted, and beyond -the young yew hedge the masses of sandstone were splashed with diverse -colours. - -“It’s new!” - -“Quite! I built it in the winter.” - -She stood at gaze, her lips quivering. - -“How does it please you?” - -“Oh, I like it! It is just the cottage one dreams about when one is in a -London suburb. And that rock garden! The colours are as soft and as -gorgeous as the colours on a Persian dish.” - -Canterton had the key with him. They walked up the path that was paved -with irregular blocks of stone. Eve’s eyes saw the date on the porch. -She understood in a flash why he had not told her for whom he had built -it. - -Canterton unlocked the door. A silence fell upon her, and her eyes -became more shadowy and serious as she went from room to room and saw -all the exquisite but simple details, all the thought that had been put -into this cottage. Everything was as she would have imagined it for -herself. She touched the oak panelling with the tips of her fingers and -smiled. - -“It is just perfect!” - -He took her to one of the windows. - -“The vision is not cramped?” - -“No.” - -She looked away over the evening landscape, and the broad valley was -bathed in gold. It was very beautiful, very still. Eve could hear the -sound of her own breathing. And for the moment she could not look at -Canterton, could not speak to him. She guessed what was in his mind, and -knew what was in her own. - -“A place to dream in!” - -“Yet it was built for a worker!” - -She rested her hands on the window sill, steadying herself, and looking -out over the valley. Canterton went on speaking. - -“You can guess for whom this was built.” - -“I can guess.” - -“Man, as man, has shocked you. I offer no bribes. I ask for none. You -trust me?” - -He could hardly hear her “Yes.” - -“I know that chance brought us together to-day. May I make use of it? I -am remembering my promise.” - -“Perhaps it was more than chance. It was rash of me to want to see -Lynette. And I trust you.” - -He stood back a little, leaving her by the window. - -“Eve, I do not ask for anything. I only say, here is a life for you—a -working life. Live it and express yourself. Do things. You can do them. -No one will be prouder of your work than I shall be. In creating a -woman’s career, you can help other women.” - -Her lips were quivering. - -“Oh, I trust you! But it is such a prospect. You don’t know. I can’t -face it all in a moment.” - -“I don’t ask you to do that. Go away, if you wish it, think it over, and -decide. Don’t think of me, the man, the comrade. Think of the working -life, of your art, the real life—just that.” - -He made a movement towards the door, and she understood the delicacy of -his self-effacement, and the fine courtesy that forefelt her sensitive -desire to escape to be alone. They passed out into the garden. Canterton -spoke again as he opened the gate. - -“I still believe all that I believed last summer!” - -He had to wait for her answer, but it came. - -“I am older than I was. I have suffered a little. That refines or -hardens. One does not ask for everything when one has had nothing. And -yet I do not know what to say to you—the man.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XLI - - - CAMPING IN THE FIR WOODS - - -Lizzie Straker and Joan Gaunt were at supper when Eve walked into their -private sitting-room at the “Black Boar.” Eight o’clock had struck, but -the window of the room faced west, and the lamp on the table had not -been lit. - -“You’re pretty late.” - -Eve sat down without taking off her hat. She had a feeling that these -two had been discussing her just before she had come into the room, and -that things which she was not expected to see had been, so to speak, -pushed hurriedly under the sofa. - -“I’ve had a long ramble, and I’m hungry.” - -She found a round of cold beef, and a dish of young lettuces on the -table. Her companions had got as far as milk pudding and stewed rhubarb. - -“You must have been walking about four solid hours. Did you get lost?” - -“No. I used to live down here.” - -They stared. - -“Oh, did you!” - -“You’ve got pretty hot, anyhow.” - -“I walked fast. I went farther than I meant to.” - -“Meet any friends?” - -“One or two.” - -She caught a pair of mistrustful eyes fixed on her. They belonged to -Joan Gaunt, who sat at the end of the table. - -“I think we’ll have the lamp, Lizzie.” - -“Right oh! or Eve won’t be able to hunt the slugs out of the lettuces.” - -“Don’t be beastly.” - -“You might cut me a piece of bread.” - -The lamp was lit. The other two had finished their supper, but appeared -inclined to sit there and watch Eve eat. - -“You met some old friends?” - -“Yes.” - -“I hope you were careful.” - -“Of course. I told them I was on a walking tour. I dare say I shan’t see -them again.” - -“No. I don’t think you’d better.” - -Something in Joan Gaunt’s voice annoyed her. It was quietly but harshly -dictatorial, and Eve stiffened. - -“I don’t think you need worry. I can look after my own affairs.” - -“Did you live in Basingford?” - -“No. Out in the country.” - -Lizzie Straker and Joan Gaunt exchanged glances. Something had happened -to the woman in Eve, a something that was so patent and yet so -mysterious that even these two fanatics noticed it and were puzzled. Had -she looked into a mirror before entering the sitting-room, she would -have been struck by a physical transfiguration of which she was for the -moment unconscious. She had changed into a more spring-like and more -sensitive study of herself. There was the indefinable suggestion of -bloom upon fruit. Her face looked fuller, her skin more soft, her lips -redder, her eyes brighter yet more elusive. She had been bathing in deep -and magic waters and had emerged with a shy tenderness hovering about -her mouth, and an air of sensuous radiance. - -Supper was cleared away. The lamp was replaced on the table. Joan Gaunt -brought out a note-book and her cypher-written itinerary. Lizzie Straker -lit a cigarette. - -“Business!” - -They exchanged glances. - -“Come along, Eve.” - -Somehow the name seemed to strike all three of them with symbolical -suggestiveness. Her comrades looked at her mistrustfully. - -They sat down at the table. - -“As you happen to know people here, you had better be on your guard. -There is work to be done here. I have just wired to Galahad.” - -Eve met Joan Gaunt’s eyes. - -“Are there black sheep in Basingford?” - -“A particularly black one. An anti-suffrage lunatic. She has been on -platforms against us. That makes one feel bitter.” - -“So it’s a she!” - -“She’s a traitress—a fool.” - -“I wonder if I know her name.” - -“It’s Canterton—Mrs. James Canterton.” - -Eve was leaning her elbows on the table, trying not to show how this -news affected her. And suddenly she began to laugh. - -Joan Gaunt’s face stiffened. - -“What are you laughing at?” - -It was wholesome, helpless, exquisite laughter that escaped and bubbled -over from a delicious sense of fun. What an ironical comedy. Eve did not -realise the complete significance of what she said until she had said -it. - -“Why, I should have thought she was one of us!” - -Her two comrades stared. They were becoming more and more puzzled, by -this feminine thing that did not shape as they expected it to shape. - -“I don’t see anything to laugh at.” - -Eve did. - -“But she ought to belong to us!” - -“You seem to find it very funny. I don’t see anything funny about a -woman being a political pimp for the men, and a rotten sentimentalist.” - -“I should never have called Mrs. Canterton a sentimentalist.” - -“Of course, you know her!” - -“A little.” - -“Well, she’s marked down here with three asterisks. That means trouble -for her. Of course, she’s married.” - -“Yes.” - -“And dotes on her husband and children, and all that.” - -Eve grew serious. - -“No, that’s the strange part of it. She and her husband don’t run in -double harness. And she’s a fool with her own child.” - -“But that’s absurd. I suppose her husband has treated her badly, as most -of them do.” - -“Oh, I don’t think so.” - -“In nine cases out of ten it’s the man’s fault.” - -“Perhaps this is the tenth.” - -“Oh, rot! There’s a man somewhere. There must be someone else besides -her husband, or she wouldn’t be talking for the men.” - -“I don’t think so. If you knew Mrs. Canterton, you might understand.” - -Yet she doubted whether they would have understood, for busybodies and -extremists generally detest each other, especially when they are arguing -from opposite sides of the table. - -Eve wanted to be alone, to think things out, to face this new crisis -that had opened before her so suddenly. It was the more dangerous and -problematical since the strong current of her impulses flowed steadily -towards Fernhill. She went to bed early, leaving Joan Gaunt and Lizzie -Straker writing letters. - -When the door had closed on Eve, they put down their pens and looked at -each other. - -“Something funny.” - -“What’s happened to her?” - -Lizzie Straker giggled. - -“She’s met someone, a man, I suppose. That’s how it struck me.” - -Joan looked grim. - -“Don’t giggle like that. She has been puzzling me for a long time. Once -or twice I have almost suspected her of laughing at us.” - -This sobered Lizzie Straker. - -“What! I should like to see her laugh at me! I’ve learnt jiu-jitsu. I’d -suppress her!” - -“The question is, is she to be trusted? I’m not so sure that our Horsham -friend wasn’t right.” - -“Well, don’t tell her too much. And test her. Make her fire the next -place. Then she’ll be compromised.” - -“That’s an idea!” - -“She has always hung back and let us do the work.” - -They looked at each other across the table. - -“All right. We had better go and scout by ourselves to-morrow.” - -“Galahad ought to be here by lunch time.” - -“We can make our arrangements. Leave after tea, hide in the woods, and -do the job after dark.” - -Eve slept well, in spite of all her problems. She woke to the sound of a -blackbird singing in the garden, and the bird’s song suited her waking -mood, being just the thing that Nature suggested. She slipped out of -bed, drew back the chintz curtains, and looked out on a dewy lawn all -dappled with yellow sunlight. The soul of the child and of the artist in -her exulted. She wanted to play with colours, to express herself, to -make pictures. Yes; but she wanted more than that, and she knelt down in -her nightdress before the looking-glass, and leaning her elbows on the -table, stared into her own eyes. - -She questioned herself. - -“Woman, can you trust yourself? It is a big thing, such a big thing, -both for him, and for you.” - -It was a sulky breakfast table that morning. Lizzie Straker had the -grumps, and appeared to be on the watch for something that could be -pounced on. She was ready to provoke Eve into contradicting her, but the -real Eve, the Eve that mattered, was elsewhere. She hardly heard what -Lizzie Straker said. - -“We move on this evening!” - -“Oh!” - -“Does that interest you?” - -“Not more than usual.” - -A telegram lay half hidden under Joan Gaunt’s plate. - -“Lizzie and I are going off for a ramble.” - -The hint that Eve was not wanted was conveyed with frankness. - -“You had better stay in.” - -“Dear comrade, why?” - -“Well, you are known here.” - -“That doesn’t sound very logical. Still, I don’t mind.” - -The dictator in Joan Gaunt was speaking, but Eve was not irked by her -tyranny on this particular morning. She was ready to laugh gently, to -bear with these two women, whose ignorance was so pathetic. She would be -content to spend the day alone, sitting under one of the elms at the end -of the bowling green, and letting herself dream. The consciousness that -she was on the edge of a crisis did not worry her, for somehow she -believed that the problem was going to solve itself. - -Joan Gaunt and Lizzie Straker started out from Basingford soon after -nine, and chartered a small boy, who, for the sum of a penny, consented -to act as guide to Fernhill. But all this was mere strategy, and when -they had got rid of the boy, they turned aside into the fir woods -instead of presenting themselves at the office where would-be visitors -were supposed to interview one of the clerks. Joan Gaunt had a rough map -drawn on a piece of note-paper, a map that had been sent down from -headquarters. They explored the fir woods and the heath lands between -Fernhill and Orchards Corner, and after an hour’s hunt they discovered -what they had come in search of—Canterton’s new cottage standing with -white plaster and black beams between the garden of rocks and the -curtained gloom of the fir woods. - -Joan Gaunt scribbled a few additional directions on the map. They struck -a rough sandy road that was used for carting timber, and this woodland -road joined the lane that ran past Orchards Corner. It was just the -place for Galahad’s car to be hidden in while they made their night -attack on the empty cottage. - -In the meanwhile Eve was sitting under one of the elms at the end of the -bowling green with a letter-pad on her knees. She had concluded that her -comrades had designs upon Canterton’s property, that they meant to make -a wreck of his glass-houses and rare plants, or to set fire to the sheds -and offices, and she had not the slightest intention of suffering any -such thing to happen. She was amused by the instant thoroughness of her -own treachery. Her impulses had deserted without hesitation to the -opposite camp. - -She wrote: - - “I am writing in case I should not see you to-day. My good - comrades are Militants, and your name is anathema. I more than - suspect that some part of your property will be attacked - to-night. I send you a warning. But I do not want these comrades - of mine to suffer because I choose to play renegade. Balk them - and let them go. - - “I am thinking hard, - - “EVE.” - -She wrote “Important ” and “Private” on the envelope, and appealed to -the proprietor of the “Black Boar” to provide her with a reliable -messenger to carry her letter to Fernhill. An old gentleman was taking a -glass of beer in the bar, and this same old gentleman lived as a -pensioner in one of the Fernhill cottages. He was sent out to see Eve, -who handed him a shilling and the letter. - -“I want Mr. Canterton to get this before twelve o’clock, and I want you -to make sure he has it.” - -“I’ll make sure o’ that, miss. I ain’t likely to forget.” - -He toddled off, and before twelve o’clock Eve knew that her warning had -carried, for a boy on a bicycle brought her a note from Canterton. - - “Many thanks indeed. I understand. Let nothing prejudice you.” - -Joan Gaunt and Lizzie Straker returned about half-past twelve, and five -minutes later a big grey motor pulled up outside the inn. Mr. Lawrence -Kentucky climbed out, and went in to order lunch. - -From her room Eve had a view of the bowling green and of the doorway of -a little summer-house that stood under the row of elms. She saw Lizzie -Straker walk out into the garden and arrive casually at the door of the -summer-house. Two minutes later Lawrence Kentucky wandered out with -equal casualness, appeared drawn by some invisible and circuitous thread -to the summer-house, and vanished inside. - -Eve smiled. It was a comedy within a comedy, but there was no cynical -edge to her amusement. She felt more kindly towards Lizzie Straker, and -perhaps Eve pitied her a little because she seemed so incapable of -distinguishing between gold and brass. - -Lawrence Kentucky did not stay more than five minutes in the -summer-house. He had received his instructions, and Joan Gaunt’s map, -and a promise from Lizzie Straker that she would keep watch in the lane -up by Orchards Corner, so that he should not lose himself in the -Fernhill woods. Lawrence Kentucky went in to lunch, and drove away soon -afterwards in his big grey car. - -She found that Lizzie Straker was in a bad temper when they sat down to -lunch. The _tête-à-tête_ in the summer-house had been too impersonal to -please her, and Lawrence Kentucky had shown great tactlessness in asking -questions about Eve. “Is Miss Carfax here? Where did you pick her up? -Oh, one of Pallas’s kittens! Jolly good-looking girl.” - -Lizzie was feeling scratchy, and she sparred with Eve. - -“You’re a puzzler. I don’t believe you’re a bit keen, not what I call -keen. I can’t sleep sometimes before doing something big.” - -“I’m quite keen enough.” - -“I don’t think you show it. You’ll have to buck up a bit, won’t she, -Joan? We have to send in sealed reports, you know. Mrs. Falconer expects -to know the inside of everybody.” - -“Perhaps she expects too much.” - -“Anyhow, it’s her money we’re spending.” - -Eve flushed. - -“I shall pay her back some day before very long.” - -“You needn’t think I called you a sponger—I didn’t.” - -“Oh, well, would it have mattered?” - -They spent the afternoon in the garden, and had tea under the may tree. -Joan Gaunt had asked for the bill, and for three packets of sandwiches. -They paid the one, and stowed the sandwiches away in their knapsacks, -and about five o’clock they resumed their walking tour. - -A march of two miles brought them into the thick of the fir woods, and -they had entered them by the timber track without meeting a soul. Joan -Gaunt chose a spot where a clump of young firs offered a secret camping -ground, for the lower boughs of the young trees being still green and -bushy, made a dense screen that hid them admirably. - -Eve understood that a night attack was imminent, and realised that no -individual rambles would be authorised by Joan Gaunt. She was to be -penned in with these two fanatics for six long hours, an undenounced -traitor who had betrayed them into the enemy’s hands. Canterton would -have men on guard, and for the moment she was tempted to tell them the -truth and so save them from being fooled. - -But some subtle instinct held her back. She felt herself to be part of -the adventure, that she would allow circumstances to lead, circumstances -that might prove of peculiar significance. She was curious to see what -would happen, curious to see how the woman in her would react. - -So Eve lay down among the young firs with her knapsack under her head, -and watched the sunlight playing in the boughs of the veterans overhead. -They made a net of sable and gold that stretched out over her, a net -that some god might let fall to tangle the lives of women and of men. -She felt the imminence of Nature, felt herself part of the mysterious -movement that could be sensed even in this solemn brooding wood. - -Her two comrades lay on their fronts, each with a chin thrust out over a -book. But Lizzie Straker soon grew restless. She kept clicking her heels -together, and picking up dry fir cones and pulling them to pieces. Eve -watched her from behind half closed lids. - -She felt sorry for Lizzie Straker, because she guessed instinctively -that Nature was playing her deep game even with this rebel. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XLII - - - NATURE SMILES - - -About eleven o’clock Lizzie Straker’s restlessness overflowed into -action. She got up, whispered something to Joan Gaunt, and was about to -push her way through the young fir trees when the elder woman called her -back. - -“We must keep together.” - -“I can’t loaf about here any longer. I’m catching cold. And I promised -to keep a look-out in the lane.” - -Joan Gaunt brought out her electric lamp and glanced at her watch. - -“It is only just eleven.” - -“He said he might be here early.” - -Obviously Lizzie Straker meant to have her way, and her having it meant -that Joan and Eve had to break camp and move into the timber track that -joined the lane. The night was fairly dark, but Joan Gaunt had taken -care to scatter torn scraps of white paper between the clump of firs and -the woodland track. A light wind had risen, and the black boughs of the -firs swayed vaguely against the sky. The sandy track was banked with -furze, broom, and young birch trees, and here and there between the -heather were little islands of short sweet turf that had been nibbled by -rabbits. Joan Gaunt and Eve spread their coats on one of these patches -of turf, while Lizzie Straker went on towards the lane to watch for -Galahad. - -Eve heard the turret clock at Fernhill strike twelve. The wind in the -trees kept up a constant under-chant, so that the subdued humming of -Kentucky’s car as it crept up the lane was hardly distinguishable from -the wind-song overhead. Two beams of light swung into the dark -colonnade, thrusting yellow rays in among the firs, and splashing on the -gorse and heather. The big car was crawling dead slow, with Lizzie -Straker standing on the step and holding on to one of the hood-brackets. -Jones, the chauffeur, was driving. - -“Here we are.” - -Lizzie Straker jumped down excitedly. - -“It was a good thing I went. He’d have missed the end of the lane. -Wouldn’t you, old sport?” - -“I was looking for you, you know, and not for sign-posts.” - -“Get along, sir! You’re not half serious enough.” - -“That’s good. And me asking for penal servitude and playing the hero.” - -He climbed out. - -“You had better turn her here, Jones, so that we shall have her nose -pointing the right way if we have to get off in a hurry. Hallo, Miss -Gaunt, you ought to be out in the Balkans doing the Florence -Nightingale! What!” - -Lizzie Straker was keeping close to him, with that air of ownership that -certain women assume towards men who are faithful to no particular -woman. - -“Is Miss Carfax with you?” - -Lizzie laughed. - -“Rather! She’s here all right. We are going to make her do the lighting -up to-night.” - -“Plenty of inflammable stuff here, Miss Carfax. You can include me if -you like.” - -But the joke did not carry. - -The chauffeur had turned the car and put out the lamps. The war material -was stored in a big locker under the back seat, and consisted of a -couple of cans of petrol, half a sack of shavings, and a bundle of tow. -The chauffeur passed them out to Kentucky, who had taken off his heavy -coat and thrown it into the car. - -“Now then, all ready, comrades?” - -“Joan knows the way!” - -Eve’s mute acceptance of the adventure was not destined to survive the -night-march through the fir woods. She was walking beside Joan Gaunt, -who led the attacking party, Lizzie Straker shadowing Lawrence Kentucky, -Jones, the chauffeur, carrying the petrol cans and bringing up the rear. -The grey sandy track wound like a ribbon among the black boles of the -firs, whose branches kept up a sibilant whispering as the night wind -played through them. - -It struck Eve that they were going in the wrong direction. - -“We are walking away from Fernhill!” - -Joan Gaunt snapped a retort out of the darkness. - -“We are not going to Fernhill.” - -Eve was puzzled. She might have asked in the words of unregenerate man, -“Then where the devil are you going?” - -In another moment she had guessed at their objective, remembering -Canterton’s cottage that stood white and new and empty, under the black -benisons of the tall firs. Her cottage! She thought of it instantly as -something personal and precious, something that was symbolical, -something that these _pétroleuses_ should never harm. - -“What are you going to burn this time?” - -“A new house that belongs to the Cantertons of Fernhill.” - -Eve’s sense of humour was able to snatch one instant’s laughter from the -unexpectedness of the adventure. What interplay life offered. What a -jest circumstances were working off on her. She was being challenged to -declare herself, subjected to a Solomon’s judgment, posed by being asked -to destroy something that had been created for the real woman in -herself. - -She was conscious of a tense feeling at the heart, and a quickening of -her breathing. The physical part of her was to be embroiled. She heard -Lizzie Straker giggling noiselessly, and the sound angered her, touched -some red spot in her brain. She felt her muscles quivering. - -“Would it be the cottage?” - -Her doubts were soon set at rest, for Joan Gaunt turned aside along a -broad path that led through a dense plantation. It was thick midnight -here, but as the trees thinned Eve saw a whiteness shining through—the -white walls of Canterton’s cottage. - -For the moment her brain felt fogged. She was trembling on the edge of -action, yet still held back and waited. - -The whole party hesitated on the edge of the wood, the women and -Lawrence Kentucky speaking in whispers. - -“Seems all right!” - -“Silent as the proverbial tomb!” - -“I’ll go round and reconnoitre.” - -He stole off with jerky, striding vehemence, pushed through a young -thuja hedge, and disappeared behind the house. In two minutes he was -back again, spitting with satisfaction. - -“Splendid! All dark and empty oh. Come forrard. We’ll persuade one of -the front windows.” - -They pushed through between the soft cypresses and reached the lawn in -front of the cottage where the grey stone path went from the timber -porch to the hedge of yews. Kentucky and the chauffeur piled their -war-plant in the porch, and being rapid young gentlemen, lost no time in -attacking one of the front windows. - -“We are not going to burn this house!” - -Eve hardly knew her own voice when she spoke. It sounded so thin, and -quiet, and cold. - -Lizzie Straker whisked round like a snappy terrier. - -“What did you say?” - -“This house is not going to be burnt.” - -“What rot are you talking?” - -“I mean just what I say.” - -“Don’t talk bosh!” - -“I tell you, I am in earnest.” - -Lizzie Straker made a quick movement, and snatched at Eve’s wrist. She -thrust her face forward with a kind of back-street truculence. - -“What d’you mean?” - -“What I have said.” - -“Joan, d’you hear? She’s trying to rat. What’s the matter with you?” - -“Nothing. Only I have ceased to believe in these methods.” - -“Oh, you have, have you!” - -Even in the dim light Eve could see the expanded nostrils and -threatening eyes. - -“Let my wrist go!” - -“Not a bit of it. What’s this particular house to you? What have you -turned soft for? Out with it. I suppose there’s a man somewhere at the -back of your mind.” - -There was a sound in Lizzie Straker’s voice that reminded Eve of the -ripping of calico. - -“I am simply telling you that this cottage is not going to be burnt.” - -“Joan, d’you hear that? You—you can’t stop it!” - -Eve twisted free. - -“I have only to shout rather strenuously. The Fernhill people are on the -alert. Unless you tell Mr. Kentucky, or Galahad as you please to call -him——” - -Lizzie Straker sprang at her like a wild cat. - -“Sneak, rat, moral prostitute!” - -Eve had never had to face such a mad thing, a thing that was so -tempestuously and hysterically vindictive. Lizzie Straker might have -been bred in the slums and taught to bite and kick and scratch like a -frenzied animal. - -“You beast! You sneak! We shan’t burn the place, shan’t we? Leave her to -me, Joan, I say. I’ll teach her to play the traitor!” - -Eve was a strong young woman, but she was attacked by a fanatic who was -not too furious to forget the Japanese tricks she had learnt at a -wrestling school. - -“I’ve got you. I’ll pin you down, you beastly sneak!” - -She tripped Eve and threw her, and squirming over her, pinioned Eve’s -right arm in such a way that she had her at her mercy. - -“You little brute, you’re breaking my arm!” - -“I will break it, if you don’t lie still.” - -Joan Gaunt had been watching the tussle, ready to intervene if her -comrade were in danger of being worsted. Lawrence Kentucky and the -chauffeur had their heads inside the window that they had just succeeded -in forcing, when the porch door opened suddenly, and a man rushed out. -He swung round, pivoting by one hand round one of the corner posts of -the porch, and was on the two men at the window before they could run. -To Joan Gaunt, who had turned as the door opened, it was like watching -three shadows moving against the white wall of the cottage. The big -attacking shadow flung out long arms, and the lesser shadows toppled and -melted into the obscurity of mother earth. - -“Lizzie, look out!” - -Joan Gaunt had plenty of pluck, but she was sent staggering by a -hand-off that would have grassed most full-backs in the kingdom. -Canterton bent over the two women. One hand gripped Lizzie Straker’s -back, crumpling up the clothes between the shoulder blades, the other -went under her chin. - -“Let go!” - -“I shan’t. I’ll break her arm if——” - -But the primitive and male part of Canterton had thrown off the little -niceties of civilisation. Thumb and fingers came together mercilessly, -and with the spasm of her crushed larynx, Lizzie Straker let go her -hold. - -“You damned cat!” - -He lifted her bodily, and pitched her two yards away on to the grass. - -“Come on, you chaps. Collar those two beggars over there!” - -There were no men to back him, but the ruse answered. Joan Gaunt had -clutched Lizzie Straker, dragged her up, dazed and coughing, and was -hurrying her off towards the fir woods. Lawrence Kentucky and Jones, the -chauffeur, had also taken to their heels, and had reached the thuja -hedge behind the house. The party coalesced, broke through, melted away -into the darkness. - -Eve was on her feet, breathless, and white with a great anger. She knew -that just at the moment that Canterton had used his strength, Lizzie -Straker had tried to break her arm. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XLIII - - - EVE COMES TO HERSELF - - -Canterton went as far as the hedge, but did not follow the fugitives any -farther. He stood there for two or three minutes, understanding that a -sensitive woman who had been involved in a vulgar scrimmage would not be -sorry to be left alone for a moment while she recovered her poise. - -Then he heard Eve calling. - -“Where are you?” - -He turned instantly, and walked back round the cottage to find her -standing close to the porch. - -“Ah, I thought you might be following them. Let them go.” - -“I wanted nothing better than to be rid of them. Are you hurt?” - -“That dear comrade of mine tried to break my arm. The elbow hurts rather -badly.” - -“Let me feel.” - -He went close, and she stretched out her arm and let his big hands move -gently over it. - -“The landmarks seem all right. Can you bend it?” - -“Oh, yes! It is only a bit of a wrench.” - -“Sit down. There is a seat here in the porch. I thought you would like -it. There is something pleasant in the idea of sitting at the doorway of -one’s home.” - -“And growing old and watching the oak mellowing. They have left their -petrol and shavings here.” - -“I’ll dispose of them presently.” - -His hands touched hers by accident, but her fingers did not avoid his. - -“I did not know that the cottage was to be the victim. I only found out -just at the last. How did you happen to be here?” - -“Sit down, dear, and I will tell you.” - -The quiet tenderness had come back into his voice. He was the comrade, -the lover, the father of Lynette, the self-master, the teller of fairy -stories, the maker of droll rhymes. Eve had no fear of him. His nearness -gave her a mysterious sense of peace. - -“What a comfortable seat!” - -“Just free of the south-west wind. You could read and work here.” - -She sighed wistfully. - -“Yes, I shall work here.” - -Neither of them spoke of surrender, or hinted at the obvious -accomplishment of an ideal. Their subtle understanding of each other -seemed part of the darkness, something that enveloped them, and did not -need to be defined. Eve’s hand lay against Canterton’s on the oak seat. -The lightest of touches was sufficient. She was learning that the light, -delicate touches, the most sensitive vibrations, are the things that -count in life. - -“How did you happen to be here?” - -“You had given me a warning, and I came to guard the most precious part -of my property.” - -“And you were listening? You heard?” - -“Oh, everything, especially that wild cat’s tin-plate voice. What of the -great movement?” - -She gave a subtle little laugh. - -“I had just found out how impossible they are. I had been realising it -slowly. Directly I got back into the country my old self seemed to -return.” - -“And you did not harmonise with the other—ladies?” - -“No. They did not seem to have any senses, whereas I felt part of the -green stuff of the earth, and not a bit of grit under Nature’s big toe.” - -“That’s good. You can laugh again.” - -“Yes, and more kindly, even at those two enthusiasts, one of whom tried -to break my arm.” - -“I’m afraid I handled her rather roughly; but people who appeal to -violence must be answered with violence.” - -“Lizzie Straker always came in for the rough treatment. She couldn’t -talk to a crowd without using the poison that was under her tongue. She -always took to throwing vitriol.” - -“Yes, the business has got into the hands of the wrong people.” - -They sat in silence for a while, and it was the silence of two people -who lean over a gate, shoulder to shoulder, and look down upon some fine -stretch of country rolling to the horizon. It was the togetherness that -mattered. Each presence seemed to absorb the other, and to obtain from -it an exquisite tranquillity. - -Eve withdrew her hand, and Canterton saw her touch her hair. - -“Oh!” - -“What is it? The arm?” - -“No; but my hat and hair.” - -He laughed. - -“How much more serious. And what admirable distress. I think I can help. -Take this.” - -He brought out a pocket electric lamp. - -“I always carry this at night. It is most useful in a garden. There is -an old Venetian mirror hanging at the top of the stairs. While you are -at work I will clear away all this stuff.” - -“What will you do with it?” - -“Pitch the shavings into the coal cellar. The petrol we can use—quite -ironically—in an hour’s time.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“I have been thinking. Go in and look into that Venetian mirror!” - -She touched his arm with the tips of her fingers. - -“Dear, I trust you. I do, utterly. I couldn’t help it, even if you were -not to be trusted.” - -“Is that Nature?” - -“I think it must be!” - -“Put all fear out of your heart.” - -She rose and drew apart, yet with a suggestion of lingering and of the -gliding away of a dear presence that would quickly return. The light of -the pocket lamp flashed a yellow circle on the oak door. She pushed it -open and entered the cottage, and climbed the stairs with a new and -delightful sense of possession. She was conscious no longer of problems, -disharmonies, the suppression of all that was vital in her. A spacious -life had opened, and she entered it as one enters a June garden. - -Canterton had cleared away Lawrence Kentucky’s war material, and Eve -found him sitting in the porch when she returned. - -“Very tired?” - -“No.” - -“May I talk a little longer?” - -“Why not!” - -She sat down beside him. - -“Our comradeship starts from now. May I assume that?” - -“I dare to assume it, because one learns not to ask too much.” - -“Ah, that’s it. Life, at its best, is a very delicate perfume. The gross -satisfactions don’t count in the long run. I want you to do big things. -I want us to do them together. And Lynette shall keep us two healthy -children.” - -She thought a moment, staring into the night. - -“And when Lynette grows up?” - -“I think she will love you the better. And we shall never tarnish her -love. Are you content?” - -He bent towards her, and took one of her hands. - -“Dearest of women! think, consider, before you pledge yourself. Can you -bear to surrender so much for the working life I can give you?” - -She answered him under her breath. - -“Yes. I want a man for a comrade—a man who doesn’t want to be bribed. -Oh, my dear, let me speak out. Sex—sex disgusted me in that London -life. I revolted from it. It made me hate men. Yet it is not sex that is -wrong, only our use of it. I think it is the child that counts in those -matters with a woman.” - -His hand held hers firmly. - -“Eve, will you grow hungry—ever?” - -“For what?” - -“Children!” - -She bent her head. - -“I will tell you. No. I think I can spend that part of the woman in me -on Lynette and on you.” - -“On me.” - -“A woman’s love—I mean the real love—has some of the mother spirit in -it. Don’t you know that?” - -He lifted her hand and kissed it. - -“And may I grumble to you sometimes, little mother, and come to you to -be comforted when I am oppressed by fools? You can trust me. I shall -never make you ashamed. And now, for practical things. You must be in -London to-morrow morning. I have worked it all out.” - -“Remember, I am a very independent young woman.” - -“Oh, I know! Let me spend myself, sometimes. Have you any luggage at the -‘Black Boar’?” - -“No, only my knapsack, which I left in the car.” - -“Fancy a woman travelling with nothing more than a knapsack! Oh, Eve, my -child!” - -“I didn’t like it. I’ll own up. All my luggage is stored with some -warehouse people in town. I have the receipts here in my purse.” - -“That’s luck—that’s excellent! We must walk round to the Basingford -road to miss any of my scouts. You will wait there, say by the Camber -cross-roads, while I get my car out.” - -He felt for his watch. - -“Have you that lamp?” - -“It is here on the seat.” - -“Just two o’clock. I shall tell my man I’m off in chase of a party who -made off in a car. I shall bring you one of my greatcoats and pick you -up at the cross-roads. We shall be in London by five. We will get some -breakfast somehow, and then knock up the warehouse people and pile your -luggage into the back. I shall drive you to a quiet hotel I know, and I -shall leave you there. What could be simpler? An independent young woman -staying at a quiet hotel, rather bored with London and inclined to -resume a discarded career.” - -She laughed softly—happily. - -“It is simple! Then I shall have to write you a formal letter.” - -“Just that.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XLIV - - - THE NIGHT DRIVE - - -Eve, waiting at the Camber cross-roads under the shadow of a yew that -grew in the hedgerow, saw an arm of light sweep slowly down the open -road before her, the glare of Canterton’s headlights as his car rounded -the wooded corner about a quarter of a mile from the Fernhill gates. - -She remained in the shadow till she was sure that it was Canterton, and -that he was alone. - -Pulling up, he saw her coming as a shadow out of the shadows, a slim -figure that detached itself from the trunk of the yew. - -“All right! Here’s a coat. Get into the back, and curl yourself up. It’s -as well that no Peeping Tom in Basingford should discover that I have a -passenger.” - -Eve put on the coat, climbed in, and snuggled down into the deeply -cushioned seat so that she was hidden by the coachwork. The car had not -stopped for more than thirty seconds, Canterton holding the clutch out -with the first speed engaged. They were on the move again, and, with -deft gear-changing, gliding away with hardly a sound. - -Eve lay and looked at the sky, and at the dim tops of the trees sliding -by, trailing their branches across the stars. She could see the outline -of Canterton’s head and shoulders in front of her, but never once did -she see his profile, for the car was travelling fast and he kept his -eyes on the winding road that was lit brilliantly by the electric -headlights. They swept through Basingford like a charge of horse. Eve -saw the spire of the church walk by, a line of dark roofs undulating -beneath it. The car turned sharply into the London road, and the -quickening purr of the engine told of an open throttle. - -They drove ten miles before Canterton slowed up and drew to the side of -the road. - -“You can join me now!” - -He leant over and opened the door, and she took the seat beside him. - -“Warm enough?” - -“Yes.” - -He looked at her throat. - -“Button up that flap across the collar. That’s it. And here’s a rug. I -have had to keep myself glued to the wheel for the last twenty minutes. -There is a lot of common land about here, and you never know when a cow -or a pony may drop from the skies.” - -They were off again, with trees, hedgerows, gates, and cottages rushing -into the glare of the headlights, and vanishing behind them. - -“Would you like to sleep?” - -“No; I feel utterly awake!” - -“Not distressfully so?” - -“No, not in that way. I have no regrets. And I think I am very happy.” - -He let the car race to her full speed along a straight stretch of road. - -“I could drive over the Himalayas to-night—do anything. You have a way -of making me feel most exultantly competent.” - -“Have I? How good. Shall I always be so stimulating?” - -He looked down at her momentarily. - -“Yes, because we shall not be crushing life to get all its perfume.” - -“Restraint keeps things vivid.” - -“That’s it—that’s what people don’t realise about marriage.” - -She thrilled to the swift motion of the car, and to the knowledge that -the imperturbable audacity of his driving was a man’s tribute to her -presence. - -“I suppose most people would say that we are utterly wrong.” - -“It would be utterly wrong, for most people.” - -“But not for us.” - -“Not for us. We are just doing the sane and logical thing, because it is -possible for us to live above the conventions. Ordinary people have to -live on make-believe, and pretend they like it, and to shout ‘shame,’ -when the really clean people insist on living like free and rational -beings.” - -“You are not afraid of the old women!” - -“Good God! aren’t some of us capable of getting above the sexual -fog—above all that dull and pious nastiness? That’s why I like a man -like Shaw, who lets off moral dynamite under the world’s immoral -morality. All the crusty, nonsensical notions come tumbling about -mediocrity’s ears. There are times when it is a man’s duty to shock his -neighbours!” - -Eve sat in silence for some minutes, watching the pale road rushing -towards them out of the darkness. Canterton was not driving the car so -strenuously, but was letting her slide along lazily at fifteen miles an -hour. Very soon the dawn would be coming up, and the white points of the -stars would melt into invisibility. - -“We don’t want to be too early.” - -“No.” - -There was a pause, and then Eve uttered the thoughts of the last half -hour. - -“One thing troubles me.” - -“What is that?” - -“Your wife.” - -He slackened speed still further, so that he need not watch the road so -carefully. - -“I feel that I am taking——” - -“What is hers?” - -“Yes.” - -His voice was steady and confident. - -“That need not trouble you. Neither the physical nor the spiritual part -of me owes anything to my wife. We are just two strangers who happen to -be tied together by a convention. I am speaking neither ironically nor -with cynicism. They are just simple facts. I don’t know why we married. -I often marvel at what I must have been then. Now I am nothing to her, -nor she to me.” - -“Are you sure?” - -“Quite sure. Her interests are all outside my life, mine outside hers. -We happen to reside in the same house, and meet at table. We do not -quarrel, because we are too indifferent to quarrel. You are taking -nothing that she would miss.” - -“And yet!” - -“Is it the secrecy?” - -“In a way.” - -“Well, I am going to tell her. I had decided on that.” - -She turned to him in astonishment. - -“Tell her!” - -“Just the simple fact that I have an affection for you, and that we are -going to be fellow-workers. I shall tell her that there is nothing for -her to fear, that we shall behave like sensible beings, that it is all -clean, and wholesome, and rational.” - -“But, my dear!” - -She was overwhelmed for the moment by his audacious sincerity. - -“But will she believe?” - -“She will believe me. Gertrude knows that I have never shirked telling -her the truth.” - -“And will she consent?” - -“I don’t doubt it.” - -“But surely, to a woman——” - -“Eve, this sort of problem has always been so smirched and distorted -that most people seem unable to see its outlines cleanly. I am going to -make her see it cleanly. It may sound strange to you, but I believe she -is one of the few women capable of taking a logical and restrained view -of it. The thing is not to hurt a woman’s self love publicly. Often she -will condone other sorts of relationship if you save her that. In our -case there is going to be no sexual, backstairs business. You are too -sacred to me. You are part of the mystery of life, of the beauty and -strangeness and wonder of things. I love the look in your eyes, the way -your lips move, the way you speak to me, every little thing that is you. -Do you think I want to take my flowers and crush them with rough -physical hands? Should I love them so well, understand them so well? It -is all clean, and good, and wholesome.” - -She lay back, thinking. - -“I know that it looks to me reasonable and good.” - -“Of course it is. Not in every case, mind you. I’m not boasting. I only -happen to know myself. I am a particular sort of man who has discovered -that such a life is _the_ life, and that I am capable of living it. I -would not recommend it for the million. It is possible, because you are -you.” - -She said, half in a whisper: - -“You must tell her before I come!” - -“I will!” - -“And I shall not come unless she understands, and sympathises, which -seems incredible.” - -Canterton stopped the car and turned in his seat, with one hand resting -on the steering-wheel. - -“If, by any chance, she persists in seeing ugly things, thinking ugly -thoughts, then I shall break the social ropes. I don’t want to. But I -shall do it, if society, in her person, refuses to see things cleanly.” - -His voice and presence dominated her. She knew in her heart of hearts -that he was in grim earnest, that nothing would shake him, that he would -go through to the end. And the woman in her leapt to him with a new -exultation, and with a tenderness that rose to match his strength. - -“Dearest, I—I——” - -He caught her hands. - -“There, there, I know! It shan’t be like that. I swear it. I want no -wounds, and ugliness, and clamour.” - -“And Lynette?” - -“Yes, there is Lynette. Don’t doubt me. I am going to do the rational -and best thing. I shall succeed.” - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XLV - - - GERTRUDE CANTERTON CAUSES AN ANTI-CLIMAX - - -“Run along, old lady. Daddy’s going to write three hundred and -seventy-nine letters.” - -“Oh, poor daddy! And are you going to write to Miss Eve?” - -“Yes.” - -“Give her my love, and tell her God’s been very nice. I heard Him -promise inside me.” - -“That’s very sensible of God.” - -Lynette vanished, and Canterton looked across the breakfast-table at his -wife, who was submerged beneath the usual flood of letters. She had not -been listening—had not heard what Lynette had said. A local -anti-suffrage campaign was the passion of the moment. - -It struck Canterton suddenly, perhaps for the first time in his life, -that his wife was a happy woman, thoroughly contented with her -discontent. All this fussy altruism, this tumult of affairs, gave her -the opportunity of full self-expression. Even her grievances were -harmonious, chiming in with her passion for restless activity. Her -egoism was utterly lacking in self-criticism. If a kettle can be -imagined as enjoying itself when it is boiling over, Gertrude -Canterton’s happiness can be understood. - -“Gertrude, I want to have a talk with you.” - -“What, James?” - -“I want to have a talk with you.” - -She dropped a type-written letter on to her plate, and looked at him -with her pale eyes. - -“What is it?” - -“Something I want you to know. Shall we wait and turn into the library?” - -“I’m rushed to death this morning. I have to be at Mrs. Brocklebank’s at -ten, and——” - -“All right. I’ll talk while you finish your breakfast. It won’t take -long.” - -She prepared to listen to him with the patient air of an over-worked -official whose inward eye remains fixed upon insistent accumulations of -business. It did not strike her that there was anything unusual about -his manner, or that his voice was the voice of a man who touched the -deeper notes of life. - -“Eve Carfax is coming back as my secretary and art expert. She has given -up her work in town.” - -“I am really very glad, James.” - -“Thanks. She got entangled in the militant campaign, but the -extravagances disgusted her, and she broke away.” - -“Sensible young woman. She might help me down here, especially as she -has some intimate knowledge of the methods of these fanatics.” - -“It is possible. But that is not quite all that I want to tell you. In -the first place, I built the new cottage with the idea that she would -come back.” - -His wife’s face showed vague surprise. - -“Did you? Don’t you think it was a little unnecessary? After all——” - -“We are coming to the point. I have a very great affection for Eve -Carfax. She and I see things together as two humans very rarely see -them. We were made for the same work. She understands the colour of life -as I understand it.” - -Gertrude Canterton wrinkled up her forehead as though she were puzzled. - -“That is very nice for you, James. It ought to be a help.” - -“I want you to understand the whole matter thoroughly. I am telling you -the truth, because it seems to me the sane and honest thing to do. You -and I are not exactly comrades, are we? We just happen to be married. We -have our own interests, our own friends. As a man, I have wanted someone -who sympathised and understood. I am not making this a personal -question, for I know you do not get much sympathy from me. But I have -found a comrade. That is all.” - -His wife sat back in her chair, staring. - -“Do you mean to say that you are in love with this girl?” - -“Exactly! I am in love with her.” - -“James, how ridiculous!” - -Perhaps laughter was the last thing that he had expected, but laugh she -did with a thin merriment that had no acid edge to it. It was the -laughter of an egoist who had failed utterly to grasp the significance -of what he had said. She was too sexless to be jealous, too great an -egoist to imagine that she was being slighted. It appealed to her as a -comedy, as something quite outside herself. - -“How absurd! Why, you are over forty.” - -“Just so. That makes it more practical. I wanted you to realise how -things stand, and to tell you that I am capable of a higher sort of -affection than most people indulge in. You have nothing to fear.” - -She wriggled her shoulders. - -“I don’t feel alarmed, James, in the least. I know you would never do -common, vulgar things. You always were eccentric. I suppose this is like -discovering a new rose. It is really funny. I only ask you not to make a -fool of yourself in public.” - -He looked at her steadily and with a kind of compassion. - -“My dear Gertrude, that is the very point I want to impress upon you. I -am grimly determined that no one shall be made a fool of, least of all -you. Treat this as absolutely between ourselves.” - -She wriggled and poked her chin at him. - -“Oh, you big, eccentric creature! Falling in love! Somehow, it is so -quaint, that it doesn’t make me jealous. I suppose I have so many real -and absorbing interests that I am rather above such things. But I do -hope you won’t make yourself ridiculous.” - -“I can promise you that. We are to be good friends and fellow-workers. -Only I wanted you to understand.” - -“Of course I understand. I’m such a busy woman, James, and my life is so -full, that I really haven’t time to be sentimental. I have heard that -most middle-aged men get fond of school-girls in a fatherly kind of -way.” - -He crushed his serviette and threw it on the table. - -“In a way, you are one of the most sensible women, Gertrude, I have ever -met.” - -“Am I?” - -“Only you don’t realise it. It’s more temperament than virtue.” - -“I’m a woman of the world, James. And there are so many important things -to do that I haven’t time to worry myself about harmless little -romances. I don’t think I mind in the least.” - -He pushed back his chair and rose. - -“I did not think you would. Only we are all egoists, more or less. One -never quite knows how the ‘self’ in a person will jump.” - -He crossed the room and paused at the window, looking out. His thoughts -were that this wife of his was a most amazing fool, without sufficient -sexual sense to appreciate human nature. It was not serene wisdom that -had made her take the matter so calmly, but sheer, egregious fatuity, -the milk-and-water-mindedness that is incapable of great virtues or -great sins. - -“Have you thought of Lynette?” - -“What has Lynette to do with it, James?” - -“Oh, nothing!” - -He gave her up. She was hopeless. And yet his contempt made him feel -sorry. - -Her hand had gone out to her papers, and was stirring them to -crepitations that seemed to express the restless satisfactions of her -life. - -“Don’t you over-work yourself, Gertrude?” - -“I don’t think so. But sometimes I do feel——” - -“You ought to have a secretary, some capable young woman who could sit -and write letters for eight hours a day. I can easily allow you another -three hundred a year.” - -She flushed. He had touched the one vital part in her. - -“Oh, James, I could do so much more. And there is so much to be done. My -postage alone is quite an item!” - -“Of course! Then it’s settled. I’m glad I thought of it.” - -“James, it’s most generous of you. I feel quite excited. There are all -sorts of things I want to take up.” - -He went out into the garden, realising that he had made her perfectly -happy. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER XLVI - - - LYNETTE APPROVES - - -Eve came down to breakfast in the panelled dining-room at “Rock -Cottage,” and stood at one of the open windows, watching an Aberdeen -puppy demolishing an old shoe in the middle of the lawn. The grass had -been mown the day before, and the two big borders on the near side of -the yew hedge were full of colour, chiefly the blues of delphiniums and -the rose and white of giant stocks. Nearer still were two rose beds -planted with the choicest hybrid teas, and mauve and yellow violas. The -rock garden beyond the yew hedge had lost some of its May gorgeousness, -but the soft tints of its rocks and the greys and greens of the foliage -were very restful to the eyes. Above it hung the blue curtain of a rare -June day. - -“Billy, you bad boy, come here!” - -The puppy growled vigorously, and worried the shoe up and down the lawn. - -“Oh, you baby! You have got to grow up into a responsible dog, and look -after my house.” - -She laughed, just because she was happy, and, kneeling on the -window-seat, began a flirtation with Master Billy, who was showing off -like any small boy. - -“Now, I’m sure I’m more interesting than that shoe.” - -A bright eye twinkled at her. - -“I suppose it is very wrong of me to let you gnaw slippers. I am sure -Mrs. Baxter is harder hearted. But you are so young, little Billy, and -too soon you will be old.” - -The door opened, and a large woman with a broad and comfortable face -sailed in with a tray. - -“Good morning, miss!” - -“Good morning, Mrs. Baxter! Whose shoe has Billy got?” - -“I’m thinking it’s one of mine, miss.” - -“The wretch!” - -“I gave it him, miss. It’s only an old one.” - -Eve’s eyes glimmered. - -“Oh, Mrs. Baxter, how very immoral of you! I thought Billy’s education -would be safe with you.” - -“There, miss, he’s only a puppy.” - -“But think of our responsibilities!” - -“I wouldn’t give tuppence for a boy or a puppy as had no mischief in -him, miss!” - -“But think of the whackings afterwards.” - -“I don’t think it does no harm. I’ve no sympathy with the mollycoddles. -I do hold with a boy getting a good tanning regular. If he deserves it, -it’s all right. If he’s too goody to deserve it, he ought to get it for -not deserving of it.” - -Eve laughed, and Mrs. Baxter put the tea-pot and a dish of sardines on -toast on the table. She was a local product, and an excellent one at -that, and being a widow, had been glad of a home. - -“I’ve made you the China tea, miss. And the telephone man, he wants to -know when he can come and fix the hinstrument.” - -“Any time this morning.” - -“Thank you, miss.” - -The panelled room was full of warm, yellow light, and Eve sat down at -the gate-legged table with a sense of organic and spiritual well being. -There were roses on the table, and her sensitive mouth smiled at them -expressively. In one corner stood her easel, an old mahogany bureau held -her painting kit, palettes, brushes, tubes, boards, canvases. It was -delightful to think that she could put on her sun-hat, wander out into -the great gardens, and express herself in all the colours that she -loved. Lynette’s glowing head would come dancing to her in the sunlight. -The Wilderness was still a fairy world, where mortals dreamed dreams. - -There were letters beside her plate. One was from Canterton, who had -gone north to plan a rich manufacturer’s new garden. She had not seen -him since that drive to London, for he had been away when she had -arrived at “Rock Cottage” to settle the furniture and begin her new life -with Mrs. Baxter and the puppy. - -She read Canterton’s letter first. - - “CARISSIMA,—I shall be back to-morrow, early, as I stayed in - town for a night. Perhaps I shall find you at work. It would - please me to discover you in the rosery. I am going to place - Guinevere among the saints, and each year I shall keep St. - Guinevere’s feast day. - - “I hope everything pleases you at the cottage. I purposely left - the garden in an unprejudiced state. It may amuse you to carry - out your own ideas.—_A rivederci._” - -She smiled. Yes, she would go and set up her easel in the rosery, and be -ready to enter with him upon their spiritual marriage. - -Under a furniture-dealer’s catalogue lay a pamphlet in a wrapper with -the address typed. Eve slit the wrapper and found that she held in her -hand an anti-suffrage pamphlet, written by Gertrude Canterton. - -She was a little surprised, not having heard as yet a full account of -that most quaint and original of interviews. But she read the pamphlet -while she ate her toast, and there was a glimmer of light in her eyes -that told of amusement. - -“A woman’s sphere is the home!” “A woman who is busy with her children -is busy according to Nature! No sensible person can have any sympathy -with those restless and impertinent gadabouts who thrust themselves into -activities for which they are not suited. Sex forbids certain things to -women. The eternal feminine is a force to be cherished!” “Woman is the -sympathiser, the comforter. She is the other beam of the balance. She -should strive to be opposite to man, not like him. A sweet influence in -the home, something that is dear and sacred!” - -Eve asked herself how Gertrude Canterton could write like this. It was -so extraordinarily lacking in self-knowledge, and suggested the old tale -of the preacher put up to preach, the preacher who omitted to do the -things he advocated, because he was so busy telling other people what -they should do. How was it that Gertrude Canterton never saw her real -self? How did she contrive to live with theories, and to forget Lynette? - -Yet in reading the pamphlet, Eve carried Gertrude Canterton’s -contentions to their logical conclusion. - -“Motherhood, and all that it means, is the natural business of woman. - -“Therefore motherhood should be cherished, as it has never yet been -cherished. - -“Therefore, every healthy woman should be permitted to have a child.” - -And here Eve folded up the pamphlet abruptly, and pushed it away across -the table. - -After breakfast she went into the garden, played with Billy for five -minutes, and then wandered to and fro and up and down the stone paths of -the rock garden. There were scores of rare plants, all labelled, but the -labels were turned so that the names were hidden. Eve had been less than -a week in the cottage, but from the very first evening she had put -herself to school, to learn the names of all these rock plants. After -three days’ work she had been able to reverse the labels, and to go -round tagging long names to various diminutive clumps of foliage and -flowers, and only now and again had she to stretch out a hand and look -at a label. - -All that was feminine and expressive in her opened to the sun that -morning. She went in about nine and changed her frock, putting on a -simple white dress with a low-cut collar that showed her throat. Looking -in her mirror with the tender carefulness of a woman who is beloved, it -pleased her to think that she needed one fleck of colour, a red rosebud -over the heart. She touched her dark hair with her fingers, and smiled -mysteriously into her own eyes. - -She knew that she was ambitious, that her pride in her comrade -challenged the pride in herself. His homage should not be fooled. It was -a splendid spur, this love of his, and the glow at her heart warmed all -that was creative and compassionate in her. This very cottage betrayed -how his thoughts had worked for her. A big cupboard recessed behind the -oak panelling held several hundred books, the books she needed in her -work, and the books that he knew would please her. There was a little -studio built out at the back of the cottage, but he had left it bare, -for her own self to do with it what she pleased. It was this restraint, -this remembering of her individuality that delighted her. He had given -her so much, but not everything, because he had realised that it is a -rare pleasure to a working woman to spend her money in accumulating the -things that she desires. - -On her way through the plantations she met Lavender, and she and -Lavender were good friends. The enthusiast in him approved of Eve. She -had eyes to see, and she did not talk the woolly stuff that he -associated with most women. Her glimpses of beauty were not adjectival, -but sharp and clear-cut, proof positive that she saw the things that she -pretended to see. - -He offered to carry her easel, and she accepted the offer. - -“Have you seen those Japanese irises in the water garden, Miss Carfax?” - -“Yes, I am going to paint them this afternoon. Whose idea was it massing -that golden alyssum and blue lithospermum on the rocks behind them? It’s -a touch of genius.” - -Lavender’s nose curved when he smiled. - -“That was one of my flashes. It looks good, doesn’t it?” - -“One of the things that make you catch your breath.” - -He swung along with his hawk’s profile in the air. - -“I fancy we’re going to do some big things in the future. If I were a -rich man and wanted the finest garden in England, I’d give Mr. Canterton -a free hand. And, excuse me saying it, miss, but I’m glad you’ve joined -us.” - -He gave her a friendly glare from a dark and apprizing eye. - -“I’m keen, keen as blazes, and I wouldn’t work with people who didn’t -care! Mr. Canterton showed me those pictures of yours. I should like to -have them to look at in the winter, when everything’s lying brown and -dead. If you want to know anything, Miss Carfax, at any time, I’m at -your service.” - -His manners were of the quaintest, but she understood him, that he was -above jealousy, and that he looked on her as a fellow enthusiast. - -“I shall bother you, Mr. Lavender, pretty often, I expect. I want to -know everything that can be known.” - -“That’s the cry! But isn’t it a rum thing, Miss Carfax, how nine people -out of ten knock along as though there were nothing fit to make them -jump out of their skins with curiosity. Why I was always like a terrier -after a rat. ‘What’s this?’ ‘What’s that?’ That’s my leitmotiv. But most -people don’t ask Nature any questions. No wonder she despises them, the -dullards, just as though they hadn’t an eye to see that she’s a -good-looking woman!” - -He erected her easel for her in the rosery, tilted his Panama hat, and -marched off. - -Eve sought out Guinevere and sat herself down before the prospective -saint, only to find that she was in no mood for painting. Her glance -flitted from rose to rose, and the music of their names ran like a poem -through her head. Moreover, the June air was full of their perfume, a -heavy, somnolent perfume that lures one into dreaming. - -Suddenly she found that he was standing in one of the black arches cut -in the yew hedge. She knew that the blood went to her face, and she -remembered telling herself that she would have to overcome these too -obvious reactions. - -He came and stood beside her, looking down at her with steady and -eloquent eyes. - -“You have found out Guinevere?” - -“Yes. We are old friends now.” - -“I am not going to market this rose. She is to be held sacred to -Fernhill. How are you getting on at the cottage?” - -Her eyes glimmered to his. - -“Thank you for everything.” - -“And Billy pleases you?” - -“He has a sense of humour.” - -“And Mrs. Baxter?” - -“Has what they call a motherly way with her.” - -His eyes wandered round the rosery with a grave, musing look. - -“I want to talk.” - -“Talk to me here. I want to know how——” - -“How she accepted it?” - -“Yes.” - -“She laughed. Thought it ridiculous. And I had been ready for a possible -tragedy!” - -“What an amusing world it is.” - -He moved a little restlessly. - -“I want to get away from that. Let’s walk through the plantations. I -can’t keep still to-day. I want to see you everywhere, to realise you -everywhere.” - -They wandered off together, walking a little apart. All about them rose -the young trees, cedars, cypresses, junipers, yews, pines, glimmering in -the June sunlight and sending out faint, balsamic perfumes. Men were -hoeing the alleys between the maples and limes, their hoes flashing when -a beam of sunlight struck through the foliage of the young trees. - -Canterton stopped and spoke to the men. Also he spoke to Eve as to a -partner and a fellow-expert who understood. - -“Do you think we make enough use of maples in England?” - -“Isn’t there a doubt about some of them colouring well over here?” - -“They give us a very fair show. The spring tints are almost as good as -the autumn ones in some cases. I want to see what you think of a new -philadelphus I have over here.” - -They walked on, and when their eyes met again hers smiled into his. - -“Thank you for that seriousness.” - -“It was genuine enough. I am going to expect a very great deal from -you.” - -“I’m glad. I’ll rise to it. It will make me very happy. Do you know I -have learnt nearly all the names of the plants in my rock garden!” - -“Have you, already!” - -“Yes. And I am going to study every whim and trick and habit. I am going -to be thorough!” - -They came to a grove of black American spruces that were getting beyond -the marketable age, having grown to a height of fifteen or twenty feet. -The narrow path was in the shade, a little secret path that cut through -the black glooms like a river through a mountainous land. - -Canterton was walking behind her. - -“Hold out your hand!” - -Without turning her head she held her hand out palm upwards, and felt -something small dropped into it. - -“Wear it—under your dress.” - -It was a little gold ring, the token of their spiritual marriage. - -They came out into the sunshine, and Eve’s eyes were mistily bright. She -had not spoken, but her lips were quivering sensitively. She had slipped -the ring on to her finger. - -“A king’s ransom for your thoughts!” - -She turned to him with an indescribable smile. - -“I am Lynette’s fairy mother. Oh, how good!” - -“For her?” - -“And for me.” - -“I have a formal invitation to deliver from Lynette. She hailed me out -of the window. We are to have tea in the Wilderness, and Billy is -asked.” - -“The Wilderness! That is where we forget to be clever.” - -They came round to the heath garden where it overhung the green spires -of the larches. - -“I am going on with my book. Your name will be added to it.” - -“May I sign the plates?” - -“Oh, we’ll have you on the title-page, ‘Paintings by Eve Carfax.’ And I -shall ask you to go pilgrimaging again, as you went to Latimer.” - -She drew in her breath sharply. - -“Ah, Latimer! I shall be dreaming dreams. But I want some of them to be -real.” - -“Tell me them!” - -“I want to help other women; help them over the rough places.” - -“You can do it. I mean you to have a name and a career.” - -“I don’t want to live only for self.” - -“First make ‘self’ a strong castle, then think of helping the -distressed. We are only just at the beginning of things, you and I. -We’ll have a rest home for tired workers. I know of a fine site in my -pine woods. And you will become a woman of affairs.” - -“I shall never rush about and make speeches!” - -“No, I don’t think you will do that.” - -They turned towards the white gate, and heard the voice of -Lynette—Lynette who had been giving chase. - -“Daddy! Miss Eve!” - -She came on them, running; glowing hair tossing in the sunlight, red -mouth a little breathless. - -“Oh, Miss Eve, the fairies have asked you to tea!” - -“I know. I have heard!” - -She caught Lynette, and kneeling, drew her into her arms with a great -spasm of tenderness. - -“I am going to be a fairy, one of your fairies, for ever and ever.” - -“Be the Queen Fairy!” - -“Yes, yes.” - -“For ever and ever. I think God is very kind. I did ask Him so hard.” - -“Dear!” - -Lynette had never been kissed as she was kissed at that moment. - - * * * * * - - - Made and Printed in Great Britain by - The Greycaine Book Manufacturing Company Limited, Watford - 50.428 - - - - - _NOVELS BY_ - _WARWICK DEEPING_ - - - KITTY - DOOMSDAY - SORRELL AND SON - SUVLA JOHN - THREE ROOMS - THE SECRET SANCTUARY - ORCHARDS - LANTERN LANE - SECOND YOUTH - COUNTESS GLIKA - UNREST - THE PRIDE OF EVE - THE KING BEHIND THE KING - THE HOUSE OF SPIES - SINCERITY - FOX FARM - BESS OF THE WOODS - THE RED SAINT - THE SLANDERERS - THE RETURN OF THE PETTICOAT - A WOMAN’S WAR - VALOUR - BERTRAND OF BRITTANY - UTHER AND IGRAINE - THE HOUSE OF ADVENTURE - THE PROPHETIC MARRIAGE - APPLES OF GOLD - THE LAME ENGLISHMAN - MARRIAGE BY CONQUEST - JOAN OF THE TOWER - MARTIN VALLIANT - RUST OF ROME - THE WHITE GATE - THE SEVEN STREAMS - MAD BARBARA - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Punctuation has been corrected without note. Other errors have been -corrected as noted below: - -Page 113, ‘It’s’ time is so ==> ‘Its’ time is so -Page 210, I canot help ==> I cannot help -Page 284, was bcoming an ==> was becoming an -Page 313, been turfed aand planted ==> been turfed and planted - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pride of Eve, by Warwick Deeping - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRIDE OF EVE *** - -***** This file should be named 50176-0.txt or 50176-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/1/7/50176/ - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net) from -page images generously made available by The Internet -Archive Canadian Libraries -(https://archive.org/details/texts) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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} - p.line { text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } - div.lgp p.line0 { text-indent:-3em; margin:0 auto 0 3em; } - table.center { margin:0.5em auto; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; } - table.flushleft { margin:0.5em 0em; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; } - table.left { margin:0.5em 1.2em; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; } - .tdStyle0 { -padding: 1px 5px; text-align:right; vertical-align:top; -} - .tdStyle1 { -padding: 1px 5px; text-align:center; vertical-align:top; -} - .tdStyle2 { -padding: 1px 5px; text-align:left; vertical-align:top; -} - .pindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:1.5em; } - .noindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; } - .hang { padding-left:1.5em; text-indent:-1.5em; } - .literal-container { text-align:center; margin:0 0; } - .literal { display:inline-block; text-align:left; } - </style> - <style type="text/css"> - h1 { font-size: 1.3em; font-weight:bold;} - </style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pride of Eve, by Warwick Deeping - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Pride of Eve - -Author: Warwick Deeping - -Release Date: October 10, 2015 [EBook #50176] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRIDE OF EVE *** - - - - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net) from -page images generously made available by The Internet -Archive Canadian Libraries -(https://archive.org/details/texts) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:375px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:2.5em;font-weight:bold;'>THE PRIDE OF EVE</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1em;'>By</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.5em;font-weight:bold;'>WARWICK DEEPING</p> -<p class='line' style='margin-bottom:7em;font-size:0.9em;'><span class='it'>Author of “Sorrell and Son,” etc.</span></p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/logo.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:60px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line' style='margin-top:0.5em;font-size:1.2em;'>CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1em;'>London, Toronto, Melbourne and Sydney</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>First published <span class='it'>September 1914</span></p> -<p class='line'>Popular Edition <span class='it'>September 1926</span></p> -<p class='line'>3s. 6d. Edition <span class='it'>June 1928</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Printed in Great Britain</span></p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div><h1 id='t67'>CONTENTS—<span class='sc'>Part I</span></h1></div> - -<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 1em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 24em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'><span style='font-size:smaller'>CHAPTER</span></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><span style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</span></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'> </td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>1.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c01'><span class='sc'>The Coming of Guinevere</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>1</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>2.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c02'><span class='sc'>Lynette Feeds the Fairies</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>11</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>3.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c03'><span class='sc'>Guinevere has her Portrait Painted</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>25</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>4.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c04'><span class='sc'>The Importunate Beggar</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>32</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>5.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c05'><span class='sc'>Eve Enters the Wilderness</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>40</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>6.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c06'><span class='sc'>Women of Virtue</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>48</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>7.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c07'><span class='sc'>Canterton Pursues Mrs. Brocklebank</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>56</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>8.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c08'><span class='sc'>Lynette Takes to Painting</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>65</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>9.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c09'><span class='sc'>Life at Fernhill</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>71</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>10.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c10'><span class='sc'>Tea in the Wilderness</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>80</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>11.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c11'><span class='sc'>Latimer</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>86</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>12.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c12'><span class='sc'>A Week’s Discovery</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>95</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>13.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c13'><span class='sc'>A Man in the Moonlight</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>104</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>14.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c14'><span class='sc'>Mrs. Carfax Finishes her Knitting</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>111</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>15.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c15'><span class='sc'>Lynette Puts on Black</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>119</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>16.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c16'><span class='sc'>James Canterton Awakes</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>127</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>17.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c17'><span class='sc'>Lynette Interposes</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>134</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>18.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c18'><span class='sc'>Eve Speaks Out</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>138</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>19.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c19'><span class='sc'>An Hour in the Fir Woods</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>143</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>20.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c20'><span class='sc'>Night and a Child</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>146</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>21.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c21'><span class='sc'>The Woman’s Eyes in the Eyes of a Child</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>152</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -</table> - -<div><h1 id='t95'>CONTENTS—<span class='sc'>Part II</span></h1></div> - -<table id='tab2' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 1em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 24em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>22.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c22'><span class='sc'>Bosnia Road</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>159</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>23.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c23'><span class='sc'>Life and Letters</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>165</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>24.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c24'><span class='sc'>Eve’s Sense of the Limitations of Life</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>173</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>25.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c25'><span class='sc'>Hugh Massinger, Esq.</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>180</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>26.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c26'><span class='sc'>Kate Duveen Goes Abroad</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>190</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>27.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c27'><span class='sc'>The Bourgeois of Clarendon Road</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>195</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>28.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c28'><span class='sc'>Canterton’s Cottage and Miss Champion’s Morality</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>203</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>29.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c29'><span class='sc'>Earning a Living</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>211</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>30.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c30'><span class='sc'>More Experiences</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>221</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>31.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c31'><span class='sc'>The Bourgeois Plays the Gentleman</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>227</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>32.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c32'><span class='sc'>Eve Determines to Leave Bosnia Road</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>233</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>33.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c33'><span class='sc'>Woman’s War</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>240</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>34.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c34'><span class='sc'>Eve Pursues Experience</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>247</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>35.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c35'><span class='sc'>The Suffragette</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>257</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>36.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c36'><span class='sc'>Pallas</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>269</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>37.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c37'><span class='sc'>Adventures</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>281</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>38.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c38'><span class='sc'>The Man with the Motor</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>291</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>39.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c39'><span class='sc'>Lynette</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>303</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>40.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c40'><span class='sc'>What they Said to Each Other</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>308</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>41.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c41'><span class='sc'>Camping in the Fir Woods</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>316</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>42.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c42'><span class='sc'>Nature Smiles</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>326</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>43.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c43'><span class='sc'>Eve Comes to Herself</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>333</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>44.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c44'><span class='sc'>The Night Drive</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>339</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>45.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c45'><span class='sc'>Gertrude Canterton Causes an Anti-Climax</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>345</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'>46.</td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#c46'><span class='sc'>Lynette Approves</span></a></td><td class='tab2c3 tdStyle0'>350</td><td class='tab2c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:2em;font-weight:bold;'>THE PRIDE OF EVE</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.5em;font-weight:bold;'>PART I</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='c01'></a>CHAPTER I</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE COMING OF GUINEVERE</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>James Canterton was camping out in the rosery under the -shade of a white tent umbrella.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a June day, and beyond the fir woods that broke -the bluster of the south-west winds, a few white clouds -floated in a deep blue sky. As for the rosery at Fernhill, -no Persian poet could have found a more delectable spot -in which to dream through the hours of a scented day, -with a jar of purple wine beside him. An old yew hedge, -clipped square, closed it in like a wall, with an opening -cut at each corner where paths paved with rough stones -disappeared into the world without. These four broad, grey -paths, the crevices between the stones planted with purple -aubretia and star-flowered rock plants, met in the centre -of the rosery, where a sundial stood on a Gothic pillar. -Next the yew hedge were rambling roses trained upon the -trunks of dead fir trees. Numberless little grey paths -branched off from the main ones, dividing up the great -square court into some two score rose beds. And this -June day this secret, yew-walled garden flamed with a -thousand tongues of fire. Crimson, old rose, coral pink, -blush white, damask, saffron, blood red, snow, cerise, -salmon, white, orange, copper, gold, all the colours seemed -alive with light, the rich green of the young foliage -giving a setting of softness to the splendour of the flowers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>James Canterton was the big, placid, meditative creature -needed for such a rose garden. He had a table beside -him, and on it a litter of things—notebooks, a tobacco -tin, an empty wine glass, a book on the flora of China, -two briarwood pipes, and a lens set in a silver frame. -He was sitting with his feet within a foot of a rose -bush planted in a corner of one of the many beds, a -mere slip of a tree that was about to unfold its first -flower.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This rose, Canterton’s latest creation, had four buds on -it, three tightly closed, the fourth on the eve of opening. -He had christened the new rose “Guinevere,” and there was -a subtle and virginal thrill about Guinevere’s first flowering, -the outer petals, shaded from coral to amber, beginning -to disclose a faint inwardness of fiery gold. Canterton had -sat there since eight in the morning, for he wanted to -watch the whole unfolding of the flower, and his vigil -might continue through most of the morrow. He would -be down in the rosery when the dew glistened on the -petals, nor would he leave it till the yellow rays of the -horizontal sun poured over the yew hedge, and made -every flower glow with a miraculous brilliance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton’s catalogues were to be found in most -well-to-do country houses, and his art had disclosed itself -in many opulent gardens. A rich amateur in the beginning, -he had chosen to assume the broader professional career, -perhaps because his big, quiet, and creative brain loved -the sending forth of rich merchandise, and the creation of -beauty. As a searcher after new plants he had travelled -half over the globe—explored China, the Himalayas, -California, and South Africa. He was famous for his -hybridisation of orchids, an authority on all trees and -flowering shrubs, an expert whose opinions were valued -at Kew. It was beauty that fired him, colour and perfumes, -and at Fernhill, in this Surrey landscape, he had created -a great nursery where beautiful things were born. As a -trader, trading the gorgeous tints of azaleas and rhododendrons, -or the glaucous stateliness of young cedars, he had -succeeded as remarkably as he had succeeded as an artist. -South, east, and west his work might be studied in many -a garden; architects who conceived for the wealthy advised -their patrons to persuade Canterton to create a setting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His success was the more astonishing, seeing that -those who set out to persuade their fellow men not only -to see beauty, but to buy it, have to deal with a legion -of gross fools. Nor would anyone have expected the -world to have paid anything to a man who could sit -through a whole day watching the opening bud of a new -rose. Canterton was one of the family of the big, patient -people, the men of the microscope and the laboratory, -who discover great things quietly, and remain undiscovered -by the apes who sit and gibber at a clown on a stage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton had picked up one of his pipes, when a maidservant -appeared in one of the arches cut in the yew -hedge. She sighted the man under the white umbrella and -made her way towards him along one of the stone paths.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The mistress sent me to find you, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, Mary?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She wants to speak to you, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am busy for the moment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The maid hid an amused sympathy behind a sedate -manner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell Mrs. Canterton you are engaged, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And she showed the practical good sense of her sympathy -by leaving him alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton stretched out his legs, and stared at Guinevere -over the bowl of his empty pipe. His massive -head, with its steady, deep-set, meditative eyes, looked -the colour of bronze under the shade of the umbrella. It -was a “peasant’s” head, calm, sun-tanned, kind, with a -simple profundity in its expression, and a quiet imaginativeness -about the mouth. His brown hair, grizzled at the -temples, had a slight curl to it; his teeth were perfect; -his hands big, brown, yet finely formed. He was the -very antithesis of the city worker, having much of the -large purposefulness of Nature in him, never moving -jerkily, or chattering, or letting his eyes snap restlessly -at motes in the sunlight. A John Ridd of a man, yet -much less of a simpleton, he had a dry, kind sparkle of -humour in him that delighted children and made loud -talkers feel uneasy. Sentimental people said that his eyes -were sad, though they would have been nearer the truth -if they had said that he was lonely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton filled his pipe, keeping a humorously expectant -eye fixed on one particular opening in the yew -hedge. There are people and things whose arrival may be -counted on as inevitable, and Canterton was in the act of -striking a match when he saw his wife enter the rosery. -She came through the yew hedge with that characteristic -scurry of hers suggesting the indefatigable woman of affairs -in a hurry, her chin poking forward, the curve of her -neck exaggerating the intrusive stoop of her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude Canterton was dressed for some big function, -and she had chosen primrose, the very colour that she -should not have worn. Her large black hat with its sable -feather sat just at the wrong angle; wisps of hair straggled -at the back of her neck, and one of her gloves was split -between the fingers. Her dress hinted at a certain fussy -earnestness, an impatience of patience before mirrors, or -perhaps an unconscious contempt for such reflectors of trifles. -She was tall, narrow across the shoulders, and distinguished -by a pallid strenuousness that was absolutely lacking in any -spirit of repose. Her face was too big, and colourless, and -the nose too broad and inquisitive about the nostrils. It -was a face that seemed to grow larger and larger when she -had talked anyone into a corner, looming up, white, and -earnest and egotistical through a fog of words, the chin -poking forward, the pale eyes set in a stare. She had a -queer habit of wriggling her shoulders when she entered -a room full of people, a trick that seemed strange in a -woman of so much self-conceit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“James! Oh, there you are! You must know how -busy I am!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton lit his pipe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are the busiest woman I know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a quarter to three, and I have to open the fête -at three. And the men are not up at the house. I told -Lavender——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, no doubt. But we happen to be very busy -here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His wife elevated her eyebrows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“James, do you mean to say——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The men are not going.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I told Lavender——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her with an imperturbable good humour -that knew perfectly well how to hold its own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lavender comes to me for instructions. There are -some things, Gertrude, that you don’t quite understand. -It is now just ten minutes to three.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wife shrugged her shoulders over the hopelessness -of this eccentric male. For the moment she was intensely -irritated, being a woman with a craze for managing everybody -and everything, and for striking the dominant note -in the community in which she happened to live.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I think it is abominable——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Making me look foolish, and keeping these men at -work, when I had arranged for them to go to the fête. -The whole neighbourhood will be represented. We -have made a particular effort to get all the working -people——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton remained genial and undisturbed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think I told you that more than half the men -are Radicals.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All the more reason for getting into touch with -them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Voluntarily, perhaps. The men were needed here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I had seen Lavender——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to hurry you, but if you are to be there -at three——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She jerked her head, twitching her black hat farther -off her forehead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes you are impossible. You won’t interest -yourself in life, and you won’t let others be interested.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not quite so bad as that, Gertrude. I am no -good at social affairs. You have the genius for all that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Exactly. But even in the matter of helping things -on. Well, it is no use talking to you. I promised -Lady Marchendale that I would be on the platform by -three.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You haven’t much time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I haven’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She let him see that she despaired of his personality, -and walked off towards the house, a long, thin, yellow -figure, like a vibrating wire that was always a blurr of -egotistical energy. She was angry, with the pinched and cold -anger of a thin-natured woman. James was impossible, only -fit to be left like a great bear among his trees and shrubs. -Besides he had made her look a fool. These sixty men were -to have followed her carriage, an impressive body of -retainers tramping after her into Lady Marchendale’s grounds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Neither Guinevere the rose, nor the purpose of -Canterton’s day had been so much as noticed. He -was always busy watching something, studying the life -cycle of some pest, scanning the world of growth in the -great nursery, and Gertrude Canterton was not interested -in flowers, which meant that she was outside the world -of her husband’s life. These two people, though living -in the same house, were absolute strangers to each other. -The book of their companionship had been closed long -ago, and had never been reopened. The great offence had -arisen when James Canterton had chosen to become the -professional artist and trader. His wife had never forgiven -him that step. It had seemed so unnecessary, so vulgar, -so exasperatingly irrational to a woman who was essentially -a snob. From that time Gertrude Canterton had begun to -excuse her husband to the world, to shrug her shoulders -at him as an eccentric creature, to let her friends understand -that Canterton was one of those abnormal people who -are best left alone in their own peculiar corner. She never -understood him, and never attempted to understand him, -being too busy with her multifarious publicities to grasp -the bigness and the beauty of this quiet man’s mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude Canterton had a restless passion for managing -things and people, and for filling her life with a conviction -that she was indispensable. Her maternal instinct seemed -to have become a perverted passion for administration. -She was a Guardian of the Poor, Dame President of the -local Primrose League Habitation, Secretary of the Basingford -Coal and Clothing Club, Treasurer of the District -Nurses Fund, an enthusiastic National Service Leaguer, -on the committee of a convalescent home for London -children that had been built within three miles of Basingford, -a lecturer on Eugenics, a strenuous advocate of the -Red Cross campaign, also a violent anti-Suffragist. She had -caught a whole collection of the age’s catch-cries, and used -them perpetually with eager emphasis. “The woman’s place -is the home.” “We must begin with the children.” -“Help, but not pauperisation.” “The Ideal of the Empire.” -“The segregation of the unfit.” She wanted to manage -everybody, and was tacitly disliked by everybody, save -by a select few, who considered her to be a remarkable -and a very useful woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At three minutes past three Gertrude Canterton was on -the platform in the marquee in Lady Marchendale’s grounds, -and making the short speech with which she was to open the -Primrose League fête. Short speeches did not accord with -Gertrude Canterton’s methods of persuasion. She always -had a very great deal to say, enjoyed saying it, and never -paused to wonder whether people wanted to listen to her -opinions. She spoke for twenty minutes in her thin and -metallic voice, eagerly and earnestly, and keeping up that -queer, sinuous wriggling of the trunk and shoulders that had -made some wag christen her “The Earnest Eel.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The country crowd was bored after the first five -minutes. Lord Parallax was to speak later, and the -people had grown too accustomed to listening to Mrs. -Canterton. There were a number of children sandwiched -in among their elders, children who became either vacantly -depressed or assertively restless. The real fun of the day -was waiting, the roundabout, the races, the mugs of tea, -and the buns.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two men in flannel suits and Panama hats stood just -outside the marquee doorway.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where’s Parallax?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Up at the house, playing croquet with Grace Abercorn. -I promised to fetch him, when the star turn was -due. They’ll think he has just rushed down from town -by motor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Listen to the indefatigable woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know, she might be doing some sort of ultra-subtle -Maud Allan business, if you put her in beads.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear chap!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fifteen minutes already, and we expected three. It -is no use trying to stop her. She’s like a soda water -bottle with the cork out. You can’t do anything till all -the gas has escaped.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll just go down and see how the Sports Committee -are getting along. Oh, by the way, I’ve booked you and -Ethel for our houseboat at Henley.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks. I’ll remember.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the lawn below Lady Marchendale’s terrace garden -Lord Parallax was flirting with a clever and audacious -little woman in grey and silver. Ostensibly they were -playing croquet, while old Percival Kex, Esq., sat in a -French cane chair under the lime tree, and quizzed Parallax -when he came within range.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, will you take my bet, or not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t talk at the critical moment, sir. This game -turns on the Suffrage question.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here, Gracie, do you hear him trying to shirk my -challenge?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Abercorn trailed her mallet towards the lime tree. -Percival Kex was a character, with his tin-plate face, bold -head, and eyes like blackberries. His tongue fished in many -waters, and his genial cynicism was infinitely refreshing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have wagered Parallax six sevenpenny insurance -stamps that he won’t escape the Wriggling Lady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear sir, how can I, when——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait a moment. One handshake, six smiles, and three -minutes’ conversation will be allowed. After that you have -got to keep clear, and I bet you you won’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Kex, I always lay myself out to be bored at these -functions. That is why I am playing croquet, and attempting -to get some compensation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who’s to snatch at that feather, Gracie, you or I? -I suppose it is yours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo, here’s Meryon! I’m due on the boards.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Abercorn, I desire you to come and act as -time-keeper, and to hold the stakes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Percival Kex won his six insurance stamps without -much difficulty. Parallax made his oration, and when the -audience had dispersed, he became the immediate victim of -Mrs. Canterton’s enthusiasms. They paraded the grounds -together, Parallax polite, stiff, and full of a disastrous -disgust; Gertrude Canterton earnestly vivadous, poking her -chin at him, and exerting all her public charm. Parallax -was considered to be a great personality, and she insisted -upon his being interesting and serious, giving him every -opportunity to be brilliant upon such subjects as Welsh -Disestablishment, the inadequacy of the Navy, and the importation -of pork from China. She kept him for more -than an hour, introduced him to numberless honest souls -who were content with a shake of the hand, insinuated in -every way that she knew that he was a very great man, -but never suspected that he wanted to play croquet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Parallax detached himself at last, and found Kex and Miss -Abercorn having tea under the lime tree in that secluded -corner where none of the Leaguers penetrated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By George, Kex, I’ve never been taken so seriously -in my life! Let me see—where am I? I think I got -bogged in Tariff Reform.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We thought we would come and have tea, Parallax. -We saw you were too occupied.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Kex, you are an old scoundrel. Why didn’t you -rescue me when you had won your bet?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sir, I am not a hero.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is there a whisky and soda to be had? Oh, here’s -a servant. Bring me a whisky and soda, will you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sat down and looked reproachfully at Miss Abercorn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose it would never occur to such a woman that -a man might want to play croquet?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Croquet, Parallax! My dear fellow, think of the -Empire, and——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hang the Empire. Here’s my whisky.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you think you had better make sure of it -by going and drinking it in the shrubbery? She may -follow you up to see what you’ve got to say on Eugenics.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Abercorn, will you protect me? Really, I have -had too much Minerva.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That apple! I always had a lot of sympathy with -Paris. I think he was a particularly bright young man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One word, Kex: has the lady a husband?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She has.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank God, and Heaven help him!”</p> - -<hr class='tbk100'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c02'></a>CHAPTER II</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>LYNETTE FEEDS THE FAIRIES</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>About six o’clock James Canterton took leave of Guinevere, -and passing out through the yew hedge, made his -way down the rhododendron walk to the wicket gate that -opened on the side of a hill. On this hill-side was the -“heath garden” that tumbled when in full bloom like a -cataract of purple and white wine till it broke against the -shadowy edge of a larch wood. The spires of the larches -descended in glimmering confusion towards the stream -that ran among poplars and willows in the bottom of the -valley.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton followed a path that led into the larch wood -where the thousands of grey black poles were packed so -close together that the eye could not see for more than -thirty yards. There was a faint and mysterious murmuring -in the tree tops, a sound as of breathing that was only -to be heard when one stood still. The ground was covered -with thin, wiry grass of a peculiarly vivid green. The -path curled this way and that among the larch trunks, -with a ribbon of blue sky mimicking it overhead. The -wood was called the wilderness, and even when a gale was -blowing, it was calm and sheltered in the deeps among -the trees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton paused now and again to examine some of -the larches. He had been working at the spruce gall -aphis disease, trying to discover a new method of combating -it, or of lighting upon some other creature that -by preying upon the pest might be encouraged to extirpate -the disease. The winding path led him at last to the lip -of a large dell or sunken clearing. It was a pool of yellow -sunlight in the midst of the green glooms, palisaded -round with larch trunks, its banks a tangle of broom, -heather, bracken, whortleberry, and furze. There was a -boggy spot in one corner where gorgeous mosses made -a carpet of green and gold, and bog asphodel grew, and -the sundew fed upon insects. All about the clearing the -woods were a blue mist when the wild hyacinth bloomed -in May.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Down below him in a grassy hollow a child with brilliant -auburn hair was feeding a fire with dry sticks. She knelt -intent and busy, serenely alone with herself, tending the fire -that she had made. Beside her she had a tin full of water, -an old saucepan, two or three potatoes, some tea and -sugar twisted up together in the corner of a newspaper, -and a medicine bottle half full of milk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo—hallo!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The auburn hair flashed in the sunlight, and the child -turned the face of a beautiful and wayward elf.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sprang up and raced towards him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy, come along. I’ve got to cook the supper for -the fairies.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton had never evolved a more beautiful flower -than this child of his, Lynette. She was his in every -way, without a shred of her mother’s nature, for even her -glowing little head was as different from Gertrude Canterton’s -as fire from clay.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo, come along.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He caught her up with his big hands, and set her on -his shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now then, what about Princess Puck? You don’t -mean to say the greedy little beggars have eaten up all -that pudding we cooked them last night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Every little bit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must have been good. And it means that we shall -have to put on our aprons.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the short grass at the bottom of the clearing was -a fairy ring, and to Lynette the whole wilderness was -full of the little people. The dell was her playing ground, -and she fled to it on those happy occasions when Miss -Vance, her governess, had her hours of freedom. As for -Canterton, he was just the child that she was, entering -into all her fancies, applauding them, and taking a delight -in her gay, elf-like enthusiasm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you seen Brer Rabbit to-night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He just said ‘How de do’ to me as I came through -the wood. And I saw old Sergeant Hedgehog taking a -nap under a tuft of grass.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t like old Hedgehog. I don’t like prickly -people, do you, daddy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like Miss Nickleton. She might be a pin-cushion. -She’s always taking out pins, and putting you all tidy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now then, we’ve got to be very serious. What’s the -supper to be to-night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Baked potatoes and tea.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By Jove, they’ll get fat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton set her down and threw himself into the -business with an immense seriousness that made him the -most convincing of playfellows. He took off his coat, -rolled up his shirt sleeves, and looked critically at the -fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We want some more wood, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went among the larches, gathered an armful of -dead wood, and returned to the fire. Lynette was kneeling -and poking it with a stick, her hair shining in the sunlight, -her pale face with its hazel eyes full of a happy seriousness. -Canterton knelt down beside her, and they began to feed -the fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather sulky.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Blow, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He bent down and played Æolus, getting red in the -face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I say, what a lot of work these fairies give us!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But won’t they be pleased! I like to think of them -coming out in the moonlight, and feasting, and then having -their dance round the ring.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And singing, ‘Long live Lynette.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They heated up the water in the saucepan, and made -tea—of a kind—and baked the potatoes in the embers of -the fire. Lynette always spread the feast on the bottom of -a bank near the fairy ring. Sergeant Hedgehog, black-eyed -field mice, and an occasional rat, disposed of the food, -but that did not matter so long as Lynette found that -it had gone. Canterton himself would come down early, -and empty the tea away to keep up the illusion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think I’ll be a fairy some night, Lynette.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes laughed up at him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fancy you being a fairy, daddy! Why, you’d eat up -all the food, and there wouldn’t be room to dance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come, now, I’m hurt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stroked his face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re so much better than a fairy, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sun slanted lower, and shadows began to cover -the clearing. Canterton smothered the fire, picked up -Lynette, and set her on his shoulders, one black leg hanging -down on either side of his cerise tie, for Canterton always -wore Irish tweeds, and ties that showed some colour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Off we go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They romped through the larch wood, up the hill-side, -and into the garden, Lynette’s two hands clasped over her -father’s forehead. Fernhill House showed up against the -evening sky, a warm, old, red-brick building with white -window frames, roses and creepers covering it, and little -dormer windows peeping out of the tiled roof. Stretches -of fine turf were unfurled before it, set with beds of violas, -and bounded by great herbaceous borders. A cedar of -Lebanon grew to the east, a noble sequoia to the west, -throwing sharp black shadows on the gold-green grass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gallop, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton galloped, and her brilliant hair danced, and -her red mouth laughed. They came across the grass to the -house in fine uproarious style, and were greeted by the -sound of voices drifting through the open windows of the -drawing-room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their irresponsible fun was at end. Canterton set the -child down just as the thin primrose-coloured figure came -to one of the open French windows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“James, Mrs. Brocklebank has come back with me. -Where is Miss Vance?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette replied for Miss Vance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She had a headache, mother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I might have inferred something of the kind. Look -at the front of your dress, Lynette.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, mother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What have you been doing? And you have got a -great hole in your left stocking, over the knee.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, mother, so I have.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette, how often have I told you——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Brocklebank or no Mrs. Brocklebank, Canterton -interposed quietly in Lynette’s defence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If it’s anybody’s fault it’s mine, Gertrude. Let the -child be a child sometimes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned on him impatiently, being only too conscious -of the fact that Lynette was his child, and not -hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How can you expect me to have any authority? -And in the end the responsibility always rests with the -woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps—perhaps not. Run along, old lady. I’ll come -and say good night presently.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette walked off to the south door, having no desire -to be kissed by Mrs. Brocklebank in the drawing-room. -She turned and looked back once at her father with a -demure yet inimitable twinkle of the eyes. Canterton was -very much part of Lynette’s life. Her mother only dashed -into it with spasmodic earnestness, and with eyes that were -fussily critical. For though Gertrude Canterton always spoke -of woman’s place being the home, she was so much busied -with reforming other people’s homes, and setting all their -social machinery in order, that she had very little leisure -left for her own. A housekeeper managed the house by -letting Mrs. Canterton think that she herself managed it. -Miss Vance was almost wholly responsible for Lynette, -and Gertrude Canterton’s periodic plunges into the domestic -routine at Fernhill were like the surprise visits of an -inspector of schools.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Brocklebank is staying the night. We have some -business to discuss with regard to the Children’s Home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton detested Mrs. Brocklebank, but he went in -and shook hands with her. She was a large woman, with -the look of a very serious-minded white cow. Her great -point was her gravity. It was a massive and imposing -edifice which you could walk round and inspect, without -being able to get inside it. This building was fitted with -a big clock that boomed solemnly at regular intervals, -always making the same sound, and making it as though -it were uttering some new and striking note.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see you are one of those, Mr. Canterton, who like -to let children run wild.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose I am. I’d rather my child had fine legs -and a good appetite to begin with.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His wife joined in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette could not read when she was six.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was a gross crime, Gertrude, to be sure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It might be called symptomatic.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Brocklebank, my wife is too conscientious for -some of us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can one be too conscientious, Mr. Canterton?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I can never imagine Gertrude with holes in her -stockings, or playing at honey-pots. I believe you wrote -a prize essay when you were eleven, Gertrude, and the -subject was, ‘How to teach children to play in earnest.’ -If you’ll excuse me, I have to see Lavender about one -of the hothouses before I dress for dinner.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He left them together, sitting like two solemn china -figures nodding their heads over his irresponsible love of -<span class='it'>laissez-faire</span>. Mrs. Brocklebank had no children, but she -was a great authority upon them, in a kind of pathological -way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you ought to make a stand, Gertrude.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The trouble is, my husband’s ideas run the same way -as the child’s inclinations. I think I must get rid of -Miss Vance. She is too easygoing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The child ought soon to be old enough to go to school. -Let me see, how old is she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Seven.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Send her away next year. There is that very excellent -school at Cheltenham managed by Miss Sandys. -She was a wrangler, you know, and is an LL.D. Her -ideas are absolutely sound. Psychological discipline is -one of her great points.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must speak to James about it. He is such a difficult -man to deal with. So immovable, and always turning -things into a kind of quiet laughter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know. Most difficult—most baffling.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Though three people sat down at the dinner table, it -was a <span class='it'>diner à deux</span> so far as the conversation was concerned. -The women discussed the Primrose League Fête, -and Lord Parallax, whom Gertrude Canterton had found -rather disappointing. From mere local topics they travelled -into the wilderness of eugenics, Mrs. Brocklebank treating -of Mendelism, and talking as though Canterton had never -heard of Mendel. It amused him to listen to her, especially -since the work of such master men as Mendel and De Vries -formed part of the intimate inspiration of his own study -of the strange beauty of growth. Mrs. Brocklebank appeared -to have muddled up Mendelism with Galton’s theory of -averages. She talked sententiously of pure dominants and -recessives, got her figures badly mixed, and uttered some -really astonishing things that would have thrilled a scientific -audience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet it was dreary stuff when devitalised by Mrs. Brocklebank’s -pompous inexactitudes, especially when accompanied -by an interminable cracking of nuts. She always ended -lunch and dinner with nuts, munching them slowly and -solemnly, exaggerating her own resemblance to a white cow -chewing the cud.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton escaped upstairs, passed Miss Vance on the -landing, a motherly young woman with rich brown hair, -and made his way to the nursery. The room was full -of the twilight, and through the open window came the last -notes of a thrush. Lynette was lying in a white bed with -a green coverlet. Her mother had ordered a pink bedspread, -but Miss Vance had thought of Lynette’s hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton sat on the edge of the bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, Princess, are you a pure dominant?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve said my prayers, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that’s good—very good! I wonder how the feast -is getting on in the Wilderness?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They won’t come out yet, not till the moon -shines.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Think of their little silver slippers twinkling like -dewdrops on the grass.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish I could see them, daddy. Have you ever -seen a fairy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think I’ve caught a glimpse of one, now and again. -But you have to be ever so good to see fairies.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ought to have seen lots, then, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed, the quiet, meditative laugh of the man wise -in his own humility.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are more wonderful things than fairies, Lynette. -I’ll tell you about them some day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat up in bed, her hair a dark flowing mass about -her slim face and throat, and Canterton was reminded of -some exquisite white bud that promised to be an exquisite -flower.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s have some rhymes, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What, more Bed Ballads?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What shall we start with?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Begin with cat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right, let’s see what turns up:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Outside the door there lay a cat,</p> -<p class='line0'>Aunt Emma thought it was a mat,</p> -<p class='line0'>And though poor Puss was rather fat,</p> -<p class='line0'>Aunt Emma left her, simply—flat.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, poor Pussy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather too realistic for you, and too hard on the cat!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Make up something about Mister Bruin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bruin. That’s a stiff thing to rhyme to. Let’s see:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Now, Mister Bruin</p> -<p class='line0'>Went a-wooin’,</p> -<p class='line0'>The lady said ‘What are you doin’!’</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m stumped. I can’t get any farther.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes you can, daddy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very well.”</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Let’s call him Mr. Bear instead,</p> -<p class='line0'>And say his mouth was very red.</p> -<p class='line0'>Miss Bruin had a Paris gown on,</p> -<p class='line0'>She was a sweet phenomenownon.</p> -<p class='line0'>The gloves she wore were just nineteens,</p> -<p class='line0'>Of course you know what that size means!</p> -<p class='line0'>Mr. Bear wore thirty-ones,</p> -<p class='line0'>But then he was so fond of buns.</p> -<p class='line0'>He asked Miss B. to be his wife,</p> -<p class='line0'>And said, ‘I will lay down my life.’</p> -<p class='line0'>She answered him, ‘Now, how much money</p> -<p class='line0'>Can you afford, and how much honey?’</p> -<p class='line0'>Poor B. looked rather brown at that,</p> -<p class='line0'>For he was not a plutocrat.</p> -<p class='line0'>‘My dear,’ he said, ‘it makes me sore,</p> -<p class='line0'>That I should be so very poor.</p> -<p class='line0'>I’ll start a bun shop, if you like,</p> -<p class='line0'>And buy you a new motor-bike.’</p> -<p class='line0'>She said, ‘I know where all the buns would go,</p> -<p class='line0'>And motor biking’s much too low.’</p> -<p class='line0'>Poor Teddy flew off in disgust,</p> -<p class='line0'>Saying, ‘Marry a Marquis if you must.’”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette clapped her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a horrid Miss Bruin! I hope she died an old -maid!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, she married Lord Grizzley. And he gave her -twopence a week to dress on, and made her give him her -fur to stuff his bath-chair cushions with.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How splendid! That’s just what ought to have -happened, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he had kissed her “good night,” and seen her -snuggle down with her hair spread out over the pillow, -Canterton went down to the library and, in passing the -door of the drawing-room, heard Mrs. Brocklebank’s voice -sending out its slow, complacent notes. This woman always -had a curious psychical effect on him. She smeared all -the fine outlines of life, and brought an unpleasant odour -into the house that penetrated everywhere. What was -more, she had the effect of making him look at his wife -with that merciless candour that discovers every crudity, -and every trifle that is unlovely. Gertrude was a most -excellent woman. He saw her high forehead, her hat tilted -at the wrong angle, her hair straggling in wisps, her -finnicking vivacity, her thin, wriggling shoulders, the way -she mouthed her words and poked her chin forward when -she talked. The clarity of his vision often shocked him, -especially when he tried to remember her as a slim and -rather over-enthusiastic girl. Had they both changed so -vastly, and why? He knew that his wife had become -subtly repulsive to him, not in the mere gross physical -sense alone, but in her mental odour. They ate together, -but slept apart. He never entered her room. The idea of -touching her provoked some fastidious instinct within him, -and made him shrink from the imagined contact.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sometimes he wondered whether Gertrude was aware of -this strong and incipient repulsion. He imagined that she -felt nothing. He had not lived with her for fifteen years -without discovering how thick was the skin of her restless -egotism. Canterton had never known anyone who was -so completely and actively self-satisfied. He never remembered -having seen her in tears. As for their estrangement, -it had come about gradually when he had chosen to change -the life of the amateur for the life of the trader. Then -there was the child, another gulf between them. A tacit -yet silent antagonism had grown up round Lynette.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On Canterton’s desk in the library lay the manuscript -of his “Book of the English Garden.” He had been at -work on it for two years, trying to get all the mystery -and colour and beauty of growth into the words he used.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sat down at the desk, and turned over the pages -written in that strong, regular, and unhurried hand of -his. The manuscript smelt of lavender, for he always -kept a few sprigs between the leaves. But to-night something -seemed lacking in the book. It was too much a -thing of black and white. The words did not strike upon -his brain and evoke a glow of living colour. Roses were -not red enough, and the torch lily had not a sufficient flame.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Colour, yes, colour!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sat back and lit his pipe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must get someone to start the plates. I know -just what I want, but I don’t quite know the person to -do it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He talked to himself—within himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rogers? No, too flamboyant, not true. I want truth. -There’s Peterson. No, I don’t like Peterson’s style—too -niggling. Loses the charm in trying to be too correct.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was disturbed by the opening of a door, and a -sudden swelling of voices towards him. He half turned -in his chair with the momentary impatience of a thinker -disturbed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let us look it up under ‘hygiene.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The library door opened, and the invasion displayed -itself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We want to look at the encyclopædia, James.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s there!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I always feel so stimulated when I am in a library, -Mr. Canterton. I hope you don’t mind our——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, not in the least!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think we might make our notes here, Gertrude.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude Canterton was standing by a revolving book-stand -looking out the volume they needed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. James, you might get us the other light, and -put it on the table.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He got up, fetched the portable red-shaded lamp from -a book-stand, set it on the oak table in the centre of -the room, and turned on the switch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, and the ink, and a pen. Not one of your nibs. -I can’t bear J’s.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Something thinner?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Please. Oh, and some paper. Some of that manuscript -paper will do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They established themselves at the table, Mrs. Brocklebank -with the volume, Gertrude with the pen and paper. -Mrs. Brocklebank brought out her pince-nez, adjusted them -half down her nose, and began to turn over the pages. -Canterton took a book on moths from a shelf, and sat -down in an easy chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hum—Hygiene. I find it here—public health, sanitary -by-laws; hum—hum—sewage systems. I think we shall -discover what we want. Ah, here it is!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The matron told me——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, exactly. They had to burn pastilles. Hum—hum—septic -tank. My dear, what is a septic tank?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Something not quite as it should be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, exactly! I understand. Hum—let me see. Their -tank must be very septic. That accounts for—hum—for -the odour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton watched them over the top of his book. -He could see his wife’s face plainly. She was frowning -and biting the end of the pen, and fidgeting with the -paper. He noticed the yellow tinge of the skin, and the -eager and almost hungry shadow lines that ran from her -nose to the corners of her mouth. It was a passionless -face, angular and restless, utterly lacking in any inward -imaginative glow. Gertrude Canterton rushed at life, fiddled -at the notes with her thin fingers, but had no subtle -understanding of the meaning of the sounds that were -produced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Brocklebank read like a grave cleric at a lectern, -head tilted slightly back, her eyes looking down through -her pince-nez.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The bacterial action should produce an effluent that -is perfectly clear and odourless. My dear, I think—hum—that -there is a misconception somewhere.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Neither of them noticed that Canterton had left them, -and had disappeared through the French window into the -garden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A full moon had risen, and in one of the shrubberies -a nightingale was singing. The cedar of Lebanon and the -great sequoia were black and mysterious and very still, -the lawns a soft silver dusted ever so lightly with dew. -Not a leaf was stirring, and the pale night stood like a -sweet sad ghost looking down on the world with eyes -of wisdom and of wonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton strolled across the grass, and down through -the Japanese garden where lilies floated in the still pools -that reflected the moonlight. All the shadows were very -sharp and black, the cypresses standing like obelisks, the -yew hedge of the rosery a wall of obsidian. Canterton -wandered up and down the stone paths of the rosery, -and knocked his pipe out in order to smell the faint -perfumes that lingered in the still air. He had lived so -much among flowers that his sense of smell had become -extraordinarily sensitive, and he could distinguish many -a rose in the dark by means of its perfume. The full -moon stared at him over the yew hedge, huge and yellow -in a cloudless sky, and Canterton thought of Lynette’s -fairies down in the Wilderness tripping round the fairy -ring on the dewy grass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sense of an increasing loneliness forced itself upon -him as he walked up and down the paths of the rosery. -For of late he had come to know that he was lonely, -in spite of Lynette, in spite of all his fascinating problems, -in spite of his love of life and of growth. That was -just it. He loved the colours, the scents, and the miraculous -complexities of life so strongly that he wanted someone -to share this love, someone who understood, someone -who possessed both awe and curiosity. Lynette was very -dear to him, dearer than anything else on earth, but she -was the child, and doubtless he would lose her when -she became the woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He supposed that some day she would marry, and the -thought of it almost shocked him. Good God, what a -lottery it was! He might have to hand her over to -some raw boy—and if life proved unkind to her! Well, -after all, it was Nature. And how did marriages come -about? How had his own come about? What on earth -had made him marry Gertrude? What on earth made -most men marry most women? He had been shy, rather -diffident, a big fellow in earnest, and he remembered how -Gertrude had made a little hero of him because of his -travels. Yes, he supposed it had been suggestion. Every -woman, the lure of the feminine thing, a dim notion -that they would be fellow enthusiasts, and that the woman -was what he had imagined woman to be.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton smiled to himself, but the pathetic humour -of life did not make him feel any less lonely. He wanted -someone who would walk with him on such a night as -this, someone to whom it was not necessary to say trite -things, someone to whom a touch of the hand would be -eloquent, someone who had his patient, watchful, wonder-obsessed -soul. He was not spending half of himself, -because he could not pour out one half of all that was -in him. It seemed a monstrous thing that a man should -have taught himself to see so much, and that he should -have no one to see life with him as he saw it.</p> - -<hr class='tbk101'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c03'></a>CHAPTER III</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>GUINEVERE HAS HER PORTRAIT PAINTED</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The second day of Guinevere’s dawning found Canterton -in the rosery, under the white tent umbrella. It was -just such a day as yesterday, with perhaps a few more -white galleons sailing the sky and making the blue seem -even bluer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Guinevere’s first bud was opening to the sun, the -coral pink outer petals with their edging of saffron unfolding -to show a heart of fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About eleven o’clock Lavender, the foreman, appeared -in the rosery, an alert, wiry figure in sun hat, rich brown -trousers, and a blue check shirt. Lavender was swarthy -and reticent, with a pronounced chin, and a hooked nose -that was like the inquiring beak of a bird. He had -extraordinarily deep-set eyes, and these eyes of his were -the man. He rarely missed seeing anything, from the first -tinge of rust on a rose, to the beginnings of American -blight on a fruit tree. As for his work, Lavender was something -of a fanatic and a Frenchman. Go-as-you-please dullards -did not like him. He was too ubiquitous, too shrewd, too -enthusiastic, too quick in picking out a piece of scamped -work, too sarcastic when he found a thing done badly. -Lavender could label everything, and his technical knowledge -was superb. Canterton paid him five hundred a -year, knowing that the man was worth it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lavender came with a message, but he forgot it the -moment he looked at the rose. His swarthy face lost all -its reticence, and his eyes seemed to take fire under their -overhanging eyebrows. He had a way of standing with -his body bent slightly forward, his hands spread on the -seat of his trousers, and when he was particularly interested -or puzzled he rubbed his hands up and down with -varying degrees of energy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s out, sir!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you think of her, Lavender?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The foreman bent over the rose, and seemed to inhale -something that he found intoxicatingly pleasant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve got it, sir. She’s up above anything that has -been brought out yet. Look at the way she’s opening! -You can almost see the fire pouring out. It’s alive—the -colour’s alive.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just like a little furnace all aglow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That flower ought to make the real people rave! -It’s almost too good for the blessed public. Any pinky -thing does for the public.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am going to send the second flower to Mr. Woolridge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’ll go down on his knees and pray to it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So much the better for us. If anyone’s praise is -worth hearing his is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s a wonder, sir, for a clergyman!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lavender rubbed his trousers, and then suddenly remembered -what he had come for.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a lady, sir, in the office. Wants to know -whether she may come into the nursery and do some -painting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who is she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Carfax from Orchards Corner. I said I’d come -and see you about it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Carfax? I don’t remember.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’ve been there about a year. The mother’s an -invalid. Quiet sort of woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well, I’ll see her, Lavender.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shall I bring her here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. I don’t want to leave the rose till I have seen -the whole cycle. And Mrs. Canterton said she was sending -one of the maids down to cut some roses.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lavender went off, and returned in about five minutes -with a girl in a straw hat and a plain white linen dress. -He stood in one of the openings through the yew hedge -and pointed out Canterton to her with a practical forefinger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s Mr. Canterton over there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She thanked him and walked on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton was bending forward over the rose, and -remained unaware of her presence till he heard footsteps -close to him on the paved path.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stood up, and lifted his hat. She was shy of -him, and shy of asking for what she had come to ask. -Her blue eyes, with their large pupils looked almost black—sensitive -eyes that clouded quickly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am afraid I am disturbing you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He liked her from the first moment, because of her -voice, a voice that spoke softly in a minor key, and did -not seem in a hurry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, not a bit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m Miss Carfax, and I paint a little. I wondered -whether you would let me come and make some studies -in your gardens.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Won’t you sit down?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He turned the chair towards her, but she remained -standing, her shyness lifting a little under the spell of his -tranquil bigness. She became aware suddenly of the rosery. -Her eyes swept it, glimmered, and something seemed to -rise in her throat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing but roses!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton found himself studying her profile, with its -straight, low forehead, short nose, and sensitive mouth -and chin. Her hair was a dense, lustrous black, waved -back from the forehead, without hiding the shapeliness -of her head. She wore a blouse that was cut low at -the throat, so that the whole neck showed, slim but -perfect, curving forward very slightly, so that her head -was poised like the head of one who was listening. -There was something flower-like in her figure, with its -lithe fragility clothed in the simple white spathe of her -dress.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton saw her nostrils quivering. Her throat and -bosom seemed to dilate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How perfect it is!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Almost at its best just now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They make one feel very humble, these flowers. A -paint brush seems so superfluous.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the moment her consciousness had become merged -and lost in the colours around her. She spoke to Canterton -as though he were some impersonal spirit, the genius of -the place, a mind and not a man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There must be hundreds of roses here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, some hundreds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the dark wall of that yew hedge shows up the -colours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton felt a curious piquing of his curiosity. The -girl was a new creation to him, and she was strangely -familiar, a plant brought from a new country—like and -yet unlike something that he already knew.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He showed her Guinevere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How do you like this rose—here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her consciousness returned from its voyage of wonder, -and became aware of him as a man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Which one?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here. It is the latest thing I have raised.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was an imaginative whim on his part, but as she -bent over the rose he fancied that the flower glowed -with a more miraculous fire, and that its radiance spread -to the girl’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is wonderful. The shading is so perfect. You -know, it is a most extraordinary mixing and blending -of colours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was just the problem. Whether the flower -would turn out a mere garish, gaudy thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But it is exquisite.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been sitting here for two whole days watching -the bud open.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned to him with an impulsive flash of the eye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you? I like the idea of that. Just watching -the dawn.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her shyness had gone, and Canterton felt that an -extraordinary thing had happened. She no longer seemed -a stranger among his roses, although she had not been -more than ten minutes in the rosery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nature opens her secret doors only to those who -are patient.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And what a fascinating life! Like becoming very -tiny, just a fairy, and letting oneself down into the heart -of a rose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had it, the thing that had puzzled him. She -was just such a child as Lynette, save that she was the -woman. There was the same wonder, the same delightful -half-earnest playfulness, the same seeing look in the eyes, -the same sensitive quiver about the mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was gazing at Guinevere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that piques me, challenges me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What, the flower?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It makes me think of the conquest of colours that -I want to try.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He understood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come and paint it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I might come and try.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You had better come soon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This afternoon?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is very good of you, Mr. Canterton.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a bit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I’ll come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She kept to her word, and reappeared about two o’clock -with her paint box, a camp stool, and a drawing-block. -Canterton had lunched in the rosery. He surrendered his -place under the white umbrella, made her sit in the -shade, and went to fetch a jug of water for her brushes. -He rejoined her, bringing another garden chair with -him, and so it happened that they spent the afternoon -together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton smoked and read, while Eve Carfax was busy -with her brushes. She seemed absorbed in her work, and -Canterton, looking up from his book from time to time, -watched her without being noticed. The intent poise of -her head reminded him vaguely of some picture he had seen. -Her mouth had a meditative tenderness, and her eyes were -full of a quiet delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Presently she sat back in her chair, and held the -sketch at arm’s length. Her eyes became more critical, -questioning, and there was a quiver of indecision about -her mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you finished it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She glanced at him as though startled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In a way. But I can’t quite make up my mind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I see?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She passed him the block and watched his face as -he examined the work. Once or twice he glanced at -Guinevere. Then he stood up, and putting the painting -on the chair, looked at it from a little distance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Excellent.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She flushed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you think so?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have never seen a better flower picture.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is such a subtle study in colours that I could -not be sure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must be very self-critical.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I am!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He turned and looked at her with a new expression, -the respect of the expert for an expert’s abilities.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have made a study of flowers?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course you must have done. I ought to know -that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her colour grew richer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton, I don’t think I have ever had such -praise. I mean, praise that I valued. I love flowers so -much, and you know them so intimately.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That we understand them together.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He almost added, “and each other.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk102'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c04'></a>CHAPTER IV</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE IMPORTUNATE BEGGAR</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Lavender had said, the Carfaxes lived at Orchards -Corner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Approaching the place you saw a line of scattered -oaks and Scots firs, with straggling thorns and hollies -between them along the line of a chestnut fence that -had turned green with mould. Beyond the hollies and -thorns rose the branches of an orchard, and beyond the -orchard a plantation of yews, hollies, and black spruces. -The house or cottage was hardly distinguishable till you -turned down into the lane from the high road. It betrayed -itself merely by the corner of a white window -frame, the top of a red-brick chimney, and a patch of -lichened tiling visible through the tangle of foliage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Carfaxes had been here a year, the mother having -been ordered country air and a dry soil. They had sublet -the orchard to a farmer who grazed sheep there, but had -kept the vegetable garden with its old black loam, and -the plot in front with its two squares of grass, filling -nearly all the space between the house and the white -palings. The grass was rather coarse and long, the Carfaxes -paying a man to scythe it two or three times -during the summer. There were flower-beds under the -fence, and on every side of the two pieces of grass, and -standard roses flanking the gravel path.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve met the man with the scythe in the lane as she -walked home after her second day at Fernhill. She found -her mother dozing in her basket-chair in the front garden -where a holly tree threw a patch of shadow on the grass. -Mrs. Carfax had her knitting-needles and a ball of white -wool in her lap. She was wearing a lilac sun-bonnet, and -a grey-coloured shawl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The click of the gate-latch woke her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you had tea, mother?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, dear; I thought I would wait for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax was a pretty old lady with blue eyes -and a rather foolish face. She was remarkable for her -sweetness, an obstinate sweetness that had the consistency -of molasses, and refused to be troubled, let Fate stir ever -so viciously. Her passivity could be utterly exasperating. -She had accepted the whole order of the Victorian Age, -as she had known it, declining to see any flaws in the -structure, and ascribing any trifling vexations to the minute -and multifarious fussiness of the Deity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ought to have had tea, mother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear, I never mind waiting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you like it brought out here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just as you please, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not daughterly, but Eve sometimes wished that -her mother had a temper, and could use words that elderly -gentlewomen are not expected to be acquainted with. There -was something so explosively refreshing about the male -creature’s hearty “Oh, damn!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That cooing, placid voice never lost its sweetness. -It was the same when it rained, when the wind howled -for days, when the money was shorter than usual, when -Eve’s drawings were returned by unsympathetic magazines. -Mrs. Carfax underlined the adjectives in her letters, and -had a little proverbial platitude for every catastrophe, were -it a broken soap dish or a railway smash. “Patience is -a virtue, my dear.” “Rome was not built in a day.” -“The world is not helped by worry.” Mrs. Carfax had -an annuity of £100 a year, and Eve made occasional -small sums by her paintings. They were poor, poor with -that respectable poverty that admits of no margins and no -adventures.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax was supremely contented. She prayed -nightly that she might be spared to keep a home for Eve, -never dreaming that the daughter suffered from fits of -bitter restlessness when anything seemed better than this -narrow and prospectless tranquillity. Mrs. Carfax had never -been young. She had accepted everything, from her bottle -onwards, with absolute passivity. She had been a passive -child, a passive wife, a passive widow. Life had had no -gradients, no gulfs and pinnacles. There were no injustices -and no sorrows, save, of course, those arranged by an -all-wise Providence. No ideals, save those in the Book of -Common Prayer; no passionate strivings; no divine discontents. -She just cooed, brought out a soft platitude, -and went on with her knitting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve entered the house to put her things away, and to -tell Nellie, the infant maid, to take tea out into the garden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take tea out, Nellie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, miss. There ain’t no cake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought I told you to bake one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, miss. There ain’t no baking powder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, very well. I’ll order some. Put a little jam out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There only be gooseberry, miss.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then we’ll say gooseberry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve returned to the garden in time to hear the purr -of a motor-car in the main road. The car stopped at -the end of the lane. A door banged, and a figure in black -appeared beyond the gate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the Cantertons’ car that had stopped at the -end of the lane, and it was Mrs. Canterton who opened -the gate, smiling and nodding at Mrs. Carfax. Gertrude -Canterton had paid a first formal call some -months ago, leaving in Eve’s mind the picture of a very -expeditious woman who might whirl down on you in an -aeroplane, make a few remarks on the weather, and then -whirl off again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Please don’t get up! Please don’t get up! I mustn’t -stay three minutes. Isn’t the weather exquisite. Ah, how -do you do, Miss Carfax?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She extended a hand with an affected flick of the -wrist, smiling all the while, and wriggling her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, fetch another chair, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, please don’t bother!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are just going to have tea, Mrs. Canterton.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve gave her mother a warning look, but Mrs. Carfax -never noticed other people’s faces.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell Nellie, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve walked off to the house, chiefly conscious of the -fact that there was no cake for tea. How utterly absurd -it was that one should chafe over such trifles. But then, -with women like Mrs. Canterton, it was necessary to have -one’s pride dressed to the very last button.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two extra chairs and tea arrived. The conversation -was never in danger of death when Gertrude Canterton -was responsible for keeping up a babble of sound. If the -other people were mute and reticent, she talked about -herself and her multifarious activities. These filled all -gaps.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must say I like having tea in the garden. You -are, really, most sheltered here. Sugar? No, I don’t -take sugar in tea—only in coffee, thank you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It does rather spoil the flavour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have a very exquisite tea sent straight to us from -a friend of my husband’s in Ceylon. It rather spoils -me, and I have got out of the way of taking sugar. -How particular we become, don’t we? It is so easy to -become selfish. That reminds me. I want to interest our -neighbourhood in a society that has been started in London. -What a problem London is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax cooed sympathetically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the terrible lives the people lead. We are very -interested in the poor shop girls, and we have started an -organisation which we call ‘The Shop Girls’ Rest Society.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, perhaps Mrs. Canterton will have some cake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was on edge, and full of vague feelings of defiance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sorry, there isn’t any cake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, dear!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, please, I so rarely take cake. Bread and butter -is so much more hygienic and natural. I was going to -tell you that this society we have started is going to -provide shop girls with country holidays.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How very nice!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax felt that she had to coo more sweetly -because of the absence of cake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think it is quite an inspiration. We want to get -people to take a girl for a week or a fortnight and give -her good food, fresh air, and a sense of homeliness. How -much the home means to women.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Everything, Mrs. Canterton. Woman’s place is the -home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Exactly. And I was wondering, Mrs. Carfax, whether -you would be prepared to help us. Of course, we shall see -to it that the girls are really nice and proper persons.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The thought of the absence of cake still lingered, and -Mrs. Carfax felt apologetic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am sure, Mrs. Canterton, I shall be glad——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had grown stiffer and stiffer, watching the inevitable -approach of the inevitable beggar. Gertrude Canterton had -a genius for wriggling her way everywhere, even into other -people’s bedrooms, and would be putting them down for -ten guineas before they were half awake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am sorry, but I’m afraid it is out of the question.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spoke rather brusquely, and Gertrude Canterton -turned with an insinuating scoop of the chin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Carfax, do let me——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, dear, I’m sure——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was stonily practical.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is quite impossible.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, Eve——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know, mother, we haven’t a bed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And no spare bedclothes. Mrs. Canterton may as -well be told the truth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a short silence. Mrs. Carfax looked as ruffled -as it was possible for her to look, settled her shawl, and -glanced inquiringly at Mrs. Canterton. But even to Gertrude -Canterton the absence of bedclothes seemed final.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am sure, Mrs. Carfax, you would have helped us, -if you had been able.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve persisted in being regarded as the responsible -authority. She was quite shameless now that she had -shown Mrs. Canterton the empty cupboard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see, we have only one small maid, and everything -is so adjusted, that we just manage to get along.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Exactly so, Miss Carfax. I quite understand. But -there is a little thing you could do for us. I always think -that living in a neighbourhood makes one responsible for -one’s poorer neighbours. I am sure, Mrs. Carfax, that -you will give a small subscription to the Coal and -Clothing Club.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With pleasure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It doesn’t matter how small it is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, dear, please go and fetch me some silver. I -should like to subscribe five shillings. May I give it to -you, Mrs. Canterton?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you so very much. I will send you a receipt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had risen and walked off resignedly towards the -cottage. It was she who was responsible for all the petty -finance of the household, and five shillings were five -shillings when one’s income was one hundred pounds a -year. It could not be spared from the housekeeping purse, -for the money in it was partitioned out to the last penny. -Eve went to her own room, and took a green leather -purse from the rosewood box on her dressing-table. This -purse held such sums as she could save from the sale of -occasional small pictures and fashion plates. It contained -seventeen shillings at this particular moment. Five shillings -were to have gone on paints, ten on a new pair of shoes, -and two on some cheap material for a blouse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was conscious of making instinctive calculations -as she took out two half-crowns. What a number of -necessities these two pieces of silver would buy, and the -ironical part of it was that she could not paint without -paints, or walk without shoes. It struck her as absurd -that a fussy fool like this Canterton woman should be able -to cause so much charitable inconvenience. Why had she -not refused point blank, in spite of her mother’s pleading -eyes?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve returned to the garden and handed Mrs. Canterton -the two half-crowns without a word. It was blackmail -levied by a restless craze for incessant charitable activities. -Eve would not have grudged it had it gone straight to -a fellow-worker in distress, but to give it to this rich -woman who went round wringing shillings out of -cottagers!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you so much. Money is always so badly -needed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve agreed with laconic irony.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is, isn’t it? Especially when you have to earn it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude Canterton chatted for another five minutes -and then rose to go. She shook hands cordially with Mrs. -Carfax, and was almost as cordial with Eve. And it was -this blind, self-contentment of hers that made her so -universally detested. She never knew when people’s bristles -were up, and having a hide like leather, she wriggled up -and rubbed close, never suspecting that most people were -possessed by a savage desire to say some particularly -stinging thing that should bite through all the thickness -of her egotism.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank goodness!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, you were quite rude! And you need not have -said, dear——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mother, I told the truth only in self-defence. I -was expecting some other deserving charity to arrive at -any moment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is better to give, dear, than to receive.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it? Of course, we needn’t pay the tradesmen, and -we can send the money to some missionary agency.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, dear, please don’t be flippant. A word spoken -in jest——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not, mother. I’m most desperately serious.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude Canterton had a very successful afternoon. -She motored about forty miles, trifled with three successive -teas, and bored some seven householders into promising -to consider the claims of the Shop Girls’ Rest Society. -She was very talkative at dinner, describing and criticising -the various people from whom she had begged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton showed sudden annoyance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You went to the Carfaxes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And got something from them?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, James.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You shouldn’t go to such people.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her face was all sallow surprise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, they are quite respectable, and——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Respectable! Do you think I meant that! You -know, Gertrude, you charitable people are desperately hard -sometimes on the real poor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What <span class='it'>do</span> you mean, James?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“People like the Carfaxes ought not to be worried. -You are so infernally energetic!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“James, I protest!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well, let it pass.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you mean——Of course, I can send the money -back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her with a curious and wondering -severity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shouldn’t do that, Gertrude. Some people are -rather sensitive.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton went into the library after dinner, before going -up to say “good night” to Lynette. Within the last two -days some knowledge of the Carfaxes and their life had -come to him, fortuitously, and yet with a vividness that -had roused his sympathy. For though James Canterton -had never lacked for money, he had that intuitive vision -that gives a man understanding and compassion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His glance fell upon the manuscript of “The Book of -the English Garden” lying open on his desk. An idea -struck him. Why should not Eve Carfax give the colour -to this book? To judge by her portrait of Guinevere, -hers was the very art that he needed.</p> - -<hr class='tbk103'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c05'></a>CHAPTER V</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>EVE ENTERS THE WILDERNESS</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve Carfax read James Canterton’s letter at breakfast, -and her mother, who like many passive people, was vapidly -inquisitive, wanted to know when the letter had come, why -it had been written, what it said, and what it did not say.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was a little flushed, and ready to fall into a -reverie while looking along a vista of sudden possibilities. -This frank and straightforward letter had brought a flutter -of exultation into her life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton wants me to do some flower pictures -for him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How nice, dear! And shall you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course—if I can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must have been our subscription to——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mother, is it likely?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am sure Mrs. Canterton was most charming. Is -he going to pay you for——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He doesn’t say anything about it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He might not think it quite nice to say anything—just -at first.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I really don’t know why it shouldn’t be nice to -mention a thing that we all must have. He wants me to -go and see him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve set off for Fernhill with a delightful sense of -exhilaration. She was in a mood to laugh, especially at -the incident of yesterday, and at the loss of those two -half-crowns that had seemed so tragic and depressing. This -might be her first big bit of luck, the beginning of a -wider, finer life for which she yearned. She was amused -at her mother’s idea about Mrs. Canterton. Mrs. Canterton -indeed! Why—the flow of her thoughts was sharply -arrested, and held back by the uprising of a situation that -suddenly appeared before her as something extraordinarily -incongruous. These two people were married. This fussy, -sallow-faced, fidgeting egotist, and this big, meditative, -colour-loving man. What on earth were they doing living -together in the same house. And what on earth was she -herself doing letting her thoughts wander into affairs -that did not concern her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She suppressed the curious feeling of distaste the -subject inspired in her, took a plunge into a cold bath -of self-restraint, and came out close knit and vigorous. -Eve Carfax had a very fastidious pride that detested anything -that could be described as vulgarly curious. She -wanted no one to finger her own intimate self, and she -recoiled instinctively from any tendency on her own part -towards taking back-door views of life. She was essentially -clean, with an ideal whiteness that yet could flush humanly. -But the idea of contemplating the soiled petals of other -people’s ideals repelled her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve entered the Fernhill Nurseries by the great oak -gates that opened through a high hedge of arbor vitæ. -She found herself in a large gravelled space, a kind of -quadrangle surrounded by offices, storerooms, stables, and -packing sheds, all built in the old English style of oak, -white plaster, and red tiles. The extraordinary neatness -of the place struck her. It was like a big forecourt to -the mysteries beyond.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had her hand on the office bell when Canterton -came out, having seen her through the window. He was -in white flannels, and wearing a straw hat that deepened -the colour of his eyes and skin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good morning! We both appear to be punctual -people.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was smiling, and looking at her attentively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was good of you to come up at once. I left it -open. I think it would be a good idea if I took you over -the whole place.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She answered his smile, losing a momentary shyness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should like to see everything. Do you know, Mr. -Canterton, you have set me up on the high horse, -and——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to fall off. I have been having thrills -of delightful dread.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know; just what a man feels before an exam., -when he is pretty sure of himself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know that I am sure of myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you can paint other things as you painted that -rose, I don’t think there is any need for you to -worry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The quiet assurance of his praise sent a shiver of -exultation through her. What an encouraging and comforting -person he was. He just intimated that he believed -you could do a thing very well, and the thing itself seemed -half done.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I’ll show you the whole place. I’m a bit of -an egotist in my way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s only showing someone what you have created.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took her everywhere, beginning with what he called -“the administrative department.” She saw the great glass-houses, -the stacks of bracken for packing, the piles of ash -and chestnut stakes, the shed where three old men spent -their time making big baskets and hampers, the rows and -rows of frames, the packing and dispatch sheds, the seed -room, the little laboratory, with its microscopes and microtome -and shelves of bottles, the office where several -clerks were constantly at work.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton was apologetic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have a craze for showing everything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It gives one insight. I like it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It won’t tire you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think I am a very healthy young woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at the fresh face, and at the lithe though -fragile figure, and felt somehow that the June day had an -indefinable perfume.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should like to show you some of the young -conifers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were wonderful trees with wonderful names, -quaint, solemn, and diminutive, yet with all the dignity -of forests patriarchs. They grew in groves and companies, -showing all manner of colours, dense metallic greens, soft -blues, golds, silvers, greys, green blacks, ambers. Each tree -had beauties and characteristics of its own. They were -diminutive models of a future maturity, solemn children -that would be cedars, cypresses, junipers, pines and yews.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They delighted Eve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, the little people, ready to grow up! I never -knew there were such trees—and such colours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He saw the same look in her eyes as he had -seen in the rosery, the same tenderness about the -mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I walk about here sometimes and wonder where they -will all go to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, isn’t it strange.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Some day I want to do a book on trees.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you? What’s the name of that dear Japanese-looking -infant there?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Retinospora Densa. You know, we nurserymen and -some of the botanists quarrel about names.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What does it matter? I tried to study botany, but -the jargon——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, it is pretty hopeless. I played a joke once on -some of our botanical friends; sent them a queer thing I -had had sent from China, and labelled it Cantertoniana -Gloria in Excelsis. They took it quite seriously.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The dears!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Laughter passed between them, and an intimate flashing -of the eyes that told how the joy of life welled up and -met. They wandered on through acres of glowing maples, -golden privets and elders, purple leaved plums, arbutus, -rhododendrons, azaleas, and all manner of flowering shrubs. -In one quiet corner an old gardener with a white beard -was budding roses. Elsewhere men were hoeing the alleys -between the straight rows of young forest trees, poplars, -birches, elms, beeches, ilexes, mountain ashes, chestnuts, and -limes. There were acres of fruit trees, acres of roses, acres -of the commoner kind of evergreens, great waves of glooming -green rolling with a glisten of sunlight over the long slopes -of the earth. Eve grew more silent. She was all eyes—all -wonder. It seemed futile to exclaim when there was so -much beauty everywhere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came at last to a pleasaunce that was the glory -of the hour, an herbaceous garden in full bloom, with -brick-paved paths, box edging, and here and there an old -tree stump or a rough arch smothered with clematis, or -honeysuckle. Delphiniums in every shade of blue rose like -the crowded and tapering <span class='it'>flèches</span> of a mediæval city. -There were white lilies, gaudy gaillardias blazing like suns, -campanulas, violas, foxgloves, snapdragons, mauve erigeron, -monkshood, English iris, and scores of other plants. It was -gorgeous, and yet full of subtle gradations of colour, -like some splendid Persian carpet in which strange dyes -merged and mingled. Bees hummed everywhere. Old red -brick walls, half covered with various kinds of ivy, formed -a mellow background. And away on the horizon floated -the blue of the Surrey hills.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve stood motionless, lips slightly apart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You like it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Am I to paint this?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me pour out my humility.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed gently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you can do it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can I? And the old walls! I should not have -thought the place was so old.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It isn’t. I bought my bricks. Some old cottages were -being pulled down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank God, sometimes, for money!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stood a moment, her chin raised, her eyes throwing -long, level glances down the walks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton, let me do two or three trial sketches -before you decide anything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just as you like.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Please tell me exactly what you want.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want you to begin here, and in the rosery. You -see this book of mine is going to be a big thing, a -treasure house for the real people who want to know. I -shall need portraits of individual flowers, and studies of -colour effects during the different months. I shall also -want illustrations of many fine gardens that have been put -at my service. That is to say, I may have to ask you -to travel about a little, to paint some of the special -things, such as the Ryecroft Dutch garden, and the -Italian gardens at Latimer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he spoke the horizon of her life seemed to broaden -before her. It was like the breaking through of a winter -dawn when the grey crevices of the east fill with sudden fire. -Everything looked bigger, more wonderful, more alluring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had no idea——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was watching her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That it was to be such a big thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It may take me two or three more years. I have -allowed myself five years for the book.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She drew in her breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton, I don’t know what to say. And I -don’t think you realise what you are offering me. Just—life, -more life. But it almost frightens me that you should -think——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes smiled at her understandingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Paint me a few trial pieces. Begin with one of the -borders here, and a rose bed in the rosery that I will -show you. Also, give me a study of trees, and another -of rocks and plants in the rock garden.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will begin at once.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked beyond her towards the blue hills.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As to the terms between us, will you let me write you -a letter embodying them?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can have an agreement if you like.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She answered at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. I think, somehow, I would rather not. And -please don’t propose anything till you have seen more -of what I can do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton led the way towards the rosery to show her -the roses he wanted her to paint, and in passing through -one of the tunnels in the yew hedge they were dashed -into by a child who came flying like a blown leaf. It -was Eve who received the rush of the impetuous figure. -Her hands held Lynette to save her from falling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette’s face lifted to hers with surprise and laughter, -and a questioning shyness. Eve kept her hold for the -moment. They looked at each other with an impulse -towards friendliness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette, old lady!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy, Miss Vance has gone off——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pop? Miss Carfax, let me introduce my daughter. -Miss Lynette Canterton—Miss Carfax.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve slid her hands from Lynette’s body, but the child’s -hands clung and held hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m so sorry. I hope it didn’t hurt? I don’t think -I’ve seen you before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, we rushed at each other when we did meet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is daddy showing you the garden?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My name’s Lynette—not like linnet, you know, but -Lyn-net.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And my name’s Eve—just Eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who was made out of Adam’s rib. Poor Mr. Adam! -I wonder whether he missed it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They all laughed. Lynette kept hold of one of Eve’s -hands, and held out her other one to Canterton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy, do come down to the Wilderness. I want to -build a wagwim.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Or wigwam?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I like wagwim better. Do come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Canterton, I am most seriously occupied.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She tossed her hair, and turned on Eve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll come too, Miss Eve? Now I’ve invited you, -daddy will have to come. Ask him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve looked at Canterton, and there was something -strange in the eyes of both.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton, I am requested to ask you——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I surrender. I may as well tell you, Miss Carfax, -that very few people are invited into the Wilderness. It -is fairyland.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I appreciate it. Lynette, may I come and build a -wagwim with you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, do. What a nice voice you’ve got.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve blushed queerly, and was intimately conscious of -Canterton’s eyes looking at her with peculiar and half -wondering intentness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to have dinner there. Mother is out, and -Miss Vance is going to Guildford by train. And Sarah has -given me two jam tarts, and some cheese straws, and two -bananas——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton tweaked her hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s an idea. I’m on good terms with Sarah. -We’ll have some lunch and a bottle of red wine sent -down to the Wilderness and picnic in a wagwim, if the -wagwim wams by lunch time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come along—come along, Miss Eve! I’ll show you -the way! I’m so glad you like wagwims!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So these three went down to the Wilderness together, -into the green light of the larch wood, and into a world -of laughter, mystery and joy.</p> - -<hr class='tbk104'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c06'></a>CHAPTER VI</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>WOMEN OF VIRTUE</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The local committee of a society for the propagation -of something or other had taken possession of Canterton’s -library, and Mrs. Brocklebank was the dominant lady. The -amount of business done at these meetings was infinitesimal, -for Mrs. Brocklebank and Gertrude Canterton were like -battleships that kept up a perpetual booming of big guns, -hardly troubling to notice the splutter of suggestions fired -by the lesser vessels. The only person on the committee who -had any idea of business was little Miss Whiffen, the curate’s -sister. She was one of those women who are all profile, -a busy, short-sighted, argumentative creature who did her -best to prevent Mrs. Brocklebank and Gertrude Canterton -from claiming the high seas as their own. She fussed -about like a torpedo boat, launching her torpedoes, and -scoring hits that should have blown most battleships out -of the water. But Mrs. Brocklebank was unsinkable, and -Gertrude Canterton was protected by the net of her infinite -self-satisfaction. Whatever Miss Whiffen said, they just -kept on booming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sometimes they squabbled politely, while old Lady -Marchendale, who was deaf, sat and dozed in her chair. -They were squabbling this afternoon over a problem that, -strange to say, had something to do with the matter in -hand. Miss Whiffen had contradicted Mrs. Brocklebank, -and so they proceeded to argue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Every thinking person ought to realise that there are -a million more women than men in the country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wasn’t questioning that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Therefore the female birth rate must be higher than -the male.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Whiffen retorted with figures. She was always -attacking Mrs. Brocklebank with statistics.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you look up the records you will find that there are -about a hundred and five boys born to every hundred girls.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That does not alter the situation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, of course not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This scheme of helping marriageable young women -to emigrate——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Brocklebank paused, and turned the big gun on -Miss Whiffen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I said marriageable young women! Have you any -objection to the term, Miss Whiffen?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, not in the least! But does it follow that, -because they marry when they get to the Colonies——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What follows?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, children.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Marriages are more fruitful in a young country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But are they? When my married sister was home -from Australia last time, she told me——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude Canterton joined in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, it’s just the prevailing selfishness, the decadence -of home life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Men are so much more selfish than they used to be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think the women are as bad. And, of course, the -question of population——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Old Lady Marchendale, who had dozed off in her arm-chair -by the window, woke up, caught a few fragmental -words, and created a digression.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They ought to be made to have them—by law!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, my dear Lady Marchendale——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see her ladyship’s point.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Every girl ought to have her own room.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, most certainly! But in the matter of -emigration——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Emigration? What has emigration to do with the -Shop Girls’ Self Help Society?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear Lady Marchendale, we are discussing the -scheme for sending young women to the Colonies.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless me, I must have been asleep. I remember. -Look at that lad of yours, Mrs. Canterton, out there in -the garden. I’m sure he has cut his hand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lady Marchendale might be rather deaf, but she had -unusually sharp eyes, and Gertrude Canterton, rising in her -chair, saw one of the lads employed in the home garden -running across the lawn, and wrapping a piece of sacking -round his left hand and wrist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She hurried to the window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is the matter, Pennyweight?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cut m’ wrist, mum, swappin’ the hedge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How careless! I will come and see what wants -doing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There had been First Aid classes in the village. In -fact, Gertrude Canterton had started them. Miss Whiffen -and several members of the committee followed her into -the garden and surrounded the lad Pennyweight, who looked -white and scared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take that dirty sacking away, Pennyweight! Don’t -you know such things are full of microbes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s bleedin’ so bad, mum.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me see.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lad obeyed her, uncovering his wrist gingerly, -his face flinching. The inner swathings of sacking were -being soaked with blood from the steady pumping of a half-severed -artery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Whiffen made a little sibilant sound.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sssf, sssf—dear, dear!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A nasty cut.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Pennyweight hesitated between restive fright and awe -of all these gentlewomen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hadn’t I better go t’ Mr. Lavender, mum? It -does bleed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense, Pennyweight! Miss Ronan, would you -mind going in and ringing for the housekeeper? Tell her I -want some clean linen, and some hot water and boracic acid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Whiffen was interested but alarmed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a cut artery. We ought to compress the brachial -artery.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t it the femoral?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, that’s in the leg. You squeeze the arm just——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Exactly. Along the inside seam of the sleeve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But he has no coat on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was a poser. Gertrude Canterton looked annoyed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where’s your coat, Pennyweight?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Down by t’ hedge, mum.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If he had his coat on we should know just where to -compress the artery.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No one noticed Canterton and Lynette till the man -and the child were within five yards of the group.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lad faced round sharply, appeared to disentangle -himself from the women, and to turn instinctively to -Canterton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cut m’ wrist, sir, with the swap ’ook.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must stop that bleeding.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He pulled out a big bandanna handkerchief, passed it -round the lad’s arm, knotted it, and took a folding foot-rule -from his pocket.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hold that just there, Bob.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He made another knot over the rule on the inside -of the arm, and then twisted the extemporised tourniquet -till the lad winced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hurt?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s stopped it. Gertrude, send one of the maids -down to the office and tell Griggs to ride down on his -bicycle for Kearton. Feel funny, Bob?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just a bit, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lie down flat in the shade there. I’ll get you a -glass of grog.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette, solemn and sympathetic, had stood watching -her father, disassociating herself from her mother and Miss -Whiffen, and the members of the committee.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wasn’t it a good thing I found daddy, Bob?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was, miss.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The old ladies might have let you bleed to death, -mightn’t they?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bob looked sheepish, and Gertrude Canterton called -Lynette away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go to the nursery, Lynette. It is tea time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette chose to enter the house by the library window, -and, finding old Lady Marchendale sitting there in the arm-chair, -put up her face to be kissed. She liked Lady -Marchendale because she had pretty white hair, and eyes -that twinkled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you see Bob’s bloody hand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What, my dear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you see Bob’s bloody hand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t quite hear, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette put her mouth close to Lady Marchendale’s -ear, and spoke with emphasis.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did—you—see—Bob’s—bloody—hand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette, you must not use such words!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude Canterton stood at the open window, and -Lady Marchendale was laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What words, mother?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Such words as ‘bloody.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But it was bloody, mother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless the child, how fresh! Come and give me another -kiss, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette gave it with enthusiasm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do like your white hair.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is not so pretty as yours, my dear. Now, run -along. We are very busy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She watched Lynette go, nodding her head at her and -smiling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am so sorry, Lady Marchendale. The child is such -a little savage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think she’s a pet. You don’t want to make a -little prig of her, do you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s so undisciplined.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, fudge! What you call being ‘savage,’ is being -healthy and natural. You don’t want to make the child -a woman before she’s been a child.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gong rang for tea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was painting in the rosery when Mrs. Brocklebank -persuaded the members of the committee that she—and -therefore they—wanted to see Mr. Canterton’s roses. It was -a purely perfunctory pilgrimage, so far as Gertrude Canterton -was concerned, and her voice struck a note of passive -disapproval.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think there is much too much time and money -wasted upon flowers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Mrs. Canterton! But isn’t this just sweet!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know very much about roses, but I believe -my husband’s are supposed to be wonderful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sighted Eve, stared, and diverged towards her down -a side path, smiling with thin graciousness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Carfax?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve did not offer to explain her presence. She supposed -that Gertrude Canterton knew all about her husband’s -book, and the illustrations that were needed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are making a study of flowers?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s right. I hope you will find plenty of material -here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton was kind enough to let me come in -and see what I could do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Exactly. May I see?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She minced round behind Eve, and looked over the -girl’s shoulder at the sketch she had on her lap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s quite nice—quite nice! But what a lot of -colour you have put into it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is rather a lot of colour in the garden itself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, but I’m afraid I can’t see what you have put on -paper——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Whiffen was clamouring to be told the name of -a certain rose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Canterton—Mrs. Canterton!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, dear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do tell me the name of this rose!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll come and look. I can’t burden my memory -with the names of flowers. Perhaps it is labelled. Everything -ought to be labelled. It is such a saving of time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve smiled, and turning to glance at the rose bed -she was painting, discovered a big woman in black hanging -a large white face over the one particular rose in the -garden. Mrs. Brocklebank had discovered Guinevere, and -a cherished flower that was just opening to the sunlight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Brocklebank always carried a black vanity bag, -though it did not contain such things as mirror, <span class='it'>papier -poudre</span>, violet powder, hairpins, and scent. A notebook, -two or three neat twists of string, a pair of scissors, a -mother-of-pearl card-case, pince-nez, and a little bottle of -corn solvent that she had just bought in Basingford—these -were the occupants. Eve saw her open the bag, take out -the scissors, and bend over Guinevere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve dared to intervene.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Excuse me, but that rose must not be touched.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Perhaps she put her protest crudely, but Mrs. Brocklebank -showed hauteur.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I believe Mr. Canterton wants that flower.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it, Philippa?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Canterton had returned, and came wriggling and -edging behind Eve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is rather a nice bud here, and I was going to -steal it, but this young lady——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Carfax!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve felt her face flushing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I believe Mr. Canterton wants that flower.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense. Why, there are hundreds here. Take it, -my dear, by all means, take it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to interfere with——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I insist. James is absolutely foolish about his flowers. -He won’t let me send a maid down with a basket. And -we had such a quarrel once about the orchid house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve turned and went back to her stool. Mrs. Brocklebank’s -eyes followed her with solemn disapproval.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s a rather forward young person.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do take the flower, Philippa.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And the rose was tucked into Mrs. Brocklebank’s belt.</p> - -<hr class='tbk105'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c07'></a>CHAPTER VII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>CANTERTON PURSUES MRS. BROCKLEBANK</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ten minutes later Eve saw Canterton enter the rosery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was walking slowly, his hands in his pockets, pausing -from time to time to examine some particular rose bush -for any signs of blight or rust. Eve’s place was in the -very centre of this little secret world of colour and perfume, -and the grey paths led away from her on every side like -the ground plan of a maze. There was some resemblance, -too, to a silver web with strands spread and hung with -iridescent dewdrops flashing like gems. In the midst of it -all was the woman, watching, waiting, a mystery even to -herself, while the man approached half circuitously, -taking this path, and now that, drawing nearer and nearer -to that central, feminine thing throned in the thick of -June.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton walked along the last path as though he had -only just realised Eve’s presence. She kept on with her -work, looking down under lowered lashes at the sketching-block -upon her knees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Still working?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you had any tea?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll have some sent out to you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, please don’t bother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You may as well make a habit of it when you are -working here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She lifted eyes that smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am so very human, that sweet cakes and a cup -of fine China tea——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Remain human. I have a very special blend. You -shall have it sent out daily, and I will issue instructions -as to the cakes. Hallo!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had discovered the spoiling of Guinevere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Someone has taken that rose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His profile was turned to her, and she studied it -with sympathetic curiosity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Canterton and some friends have been here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have they?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And a stout lady in black discovered Guinevere, and -produced a pair of scissors. I put in a word for the rose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He faced her, looking down with eyes that claimed -her as a partisan.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think the lady’s name is Mrs. Brocklebank.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was half angry, half amused.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I might have suspected it. I suppose someone over-ruled -your protest?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went on with her work, brushing in a soft background -of grey stones and green foliage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was Mrs. Canterton here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes remained fixed upon the rose in front of her, -and the poise of her head and the aloofness of her eyes -answered his question before he asked it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want that rose most particularly. It has to go to -one of the greatest rose experts in the country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Which way did they go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Back to the house, I think.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll go and have your tea sent out. And I want to -catch Mrs. Brocklebank.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton started in pursuit of the lady, found that she -had only just left the house, and that he would catch her -in the drive. He intended to be quite frank with her, -knowing her to be the most inveterate snatcher up of -trifles, one of those over-enthusiastic people who will sneak -a cutting from some rare plant and take it home wrapped -up in a handkerchief. Lavender had told him one or two -tales about Mrs. Brocklebank, and how he had once surprised -her in the rock garden busy with a trowel that she -had brought in an innocent looking work-bag.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton overtook her just before she reached the -lodge gates, and found Guinevere being carried off as a -victim in Mrs. Brocklebank’s belt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am afraid you have taken a rose that should not -have been touched.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Mr. Canterton, I’m sure I haven’t!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked whimsically at the rose perched on the top -of a very ample curve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, there it is! My wife ought to have warned -you——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She pressed me to take it. My dear Mr. Canterton, -how was I to know?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was amused by her emphatic innocence, especially -when, by dragging in Eve Carfax’s name, he could have -suggested to her that he knew she was lying.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see, my wife knows nothing about flowers—what -is valuable, and what isn’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Brocklebank began to boom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear Mr. Canterton, how can you expect it? I -think it is very unreasonable of you. In fact, you ought to -mark valuable flowers, so that other people should know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He smiled at her quite charmingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose I ought. I suppose I am really the guilty -party. Only, you see, my garden is really a shop, a big -general store. And in a shop it is not supposed to be -necessary to put notices on certain articles, ‘This article -is not to be appropriated.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She took the rose out of her belt, and in doing so -purposely broke the stalk off close to the calyx.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you are a very horrid man. Fancy suggesting——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am a humorist, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am afraid I have broken the stalk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It doesn’t matter. I can have it wired.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went and opened the lodge gates for her, and stood, -hat in hand, as she passed out. He was smiling, but it -was an uncomfortable sort of smile that sent Mrs. Brocklebank -away wondering whether he was really quite a pleasant -person or an ironical beast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton took the rose to Lavender, who was working -through some of the stock lists in the office.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nearly lost, but not quite, Lavender.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The foreman looked cynical, but said nothing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wire it up, and have it packed and sent off to Mr. -Woolridge to-night. And, by the way, I have told Mrs. -Brocklebank that if she wants any flowers in the future, -she must apply to you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shan’t forget that little trowel of hers, sir, and our -Alpines.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Put up a notice, ‘Trowels not admitted.’ I am writing -to Mr. Woolridge. Oh, and there are those American -people coming to-morrow, who want to be shown roses, -and flowering shrubs. Will you take them round? I fancy -I shall be busy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton returned to the rosery, and, picking up a stray -chair in one of the main paths, joined Eve Carfax, who -had a little green Japanese tea-tray on her lap. She was -pouring out tea from a tiny brown teapot, her wrist -making a white arch, her lashes sweeping her cheek.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They have brought your tea all right?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What about cakes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She bent down and picked up a plate from the path.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Someone must fancy me a hungry schoolgirl.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It looks rather like it. How is the painting going?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am rather pleased with it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good. On show soon?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have only to put in a few touches.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He swung his chair round, and sat down as though -it were the most natural thing in the world for him to -come and talk to her. Her curious resemblance to Lynette -may have tricked him into a mood that was partly that -of the playmate, partly that of the father. Lynette, the -child, had set him an impetuous example. “Miss Eve feels -the fairies in the wood, daddy. She feels them there, -just like me.” That was it. Eve spoke and understood -the same language as he and the child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I overtook Mrs. Brocklebank.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And rescued Guinevere?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and the good dragon pretended to be very -innocent. I did not drag your name in, though I was -reproved for not labelling things properly, and so inviting -innocent old ladies to purloin flowers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you got the rose back?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and she managed to break the stalk off short -in pulling it out of her belt. I wonder if you can tell -me why the average woman is built on such mean lines?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She gave him a sudden questioning glance which said, -“Do you realise that you are going beneath the surface—that -the real you in you is calling to the real me in me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was looking at her intently, and there was something -in his eyes that stirred a tremor of compassion in her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What I mean is, that the average woman seems a cad -when she is compared to the average man. I mean, the -women of the upper middle classes. I suppose it is because -they don’t know what work is, and because they have always -led selfish and protected lives. They haven’t the bigness of -men—the love of fair-play.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes brightened to his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know what you mean. If I described a girls’ school -to you——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should have the feminine world in miniature.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. The snobbery, the cult of convention, the little -sneaking jealousies, all the middle class nastiness. I hated -school.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was silent for some moments, his eyes looking -into the distance. Then he began to speak in his quiet -and deliberate way, like a man gazing at some landscape -and trying to describe all that he saw.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Life, in a neighbourhood like this, seems so shallow—so -full of conventional fussiness. These women know -nothing, and yet they must run about, like so many -fashionable French clowns, doing a great deal, and nothing. -I can’t get the hang of it. I suppose I am always hanging -my head over something that has been born, or is growing. -One gets right up against the wonder and mystery of life, -the marvellous complex of growth and colour. It makes -one humble, deliberate, rather like a big child. Perhaps -I lose my sense of social proportion, but I can’t fit myself -into these feminine back yards. And some women never -forgive one for getting into the wrong back yard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes finished by smiling, half apologetically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It seems to me that most women would rather have -their men respectable hypocrites than thinkers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She put the tray aside, and brushed some crumbs from -her skirt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The older sort of woman, perhaps.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Generations of women have never had a fair chance. -They had to dance to the man’s piping. And I think -women are naturally conservative, sexually mistrustful of -change—of new ideas.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They carry their sex into social questions?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Or try to crush it. There is a sort of cry for -equality—for the interplay of personality with personality—without -all that——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He bent forward, leaning his elbows on his knees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have we men been guilty of making so many of our -women fussy, conventional, pitiless fools? Have you ever -run up against the crass prejudice, the merciless, blind, and -arrogant self-assurance of the ordinary orthodox woman?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She answered slowly, “Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He seemed to wait for her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is nothing to say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Absolute finality! Oh, I know! Everything outside -the little rigid fence, ununderstandable, unmentionable! No -vision, no real sympathy, no real knowledge. What can -one do? I often wonder whether the child will grow up -like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He nodded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked at him with that peculiar brightening of the -eyes and tender tremulousness of the mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no! You see, she’s—she’s sensitive, and not a -little woman in miniature. I mean, she won’t have the -society shell hardened on her before her soul has done -growing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His face warmed and brightened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By George, how you put things! That’s the whole -truth in a nutshell. Keep growing. Keep the youngsters -growing. Smash away the crust of convention!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She began to gather up her belongings, and Canterton -watched her cleaning her brushes and putting them back -into their case. A subtle veil of shyness had fallen upon -her. She had realised suddenly that he was no longer -an impersonal figure sitting there and dispassionately discussing -certain superficial aspects of life, but a big man -who was lonely, a man who appealed to her with peculiar -emphasis, and who talked to her as to one who could -understand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must be off home. I thought I should finish -this to-day, but I will ask you not to look at it till -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just as you please.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She strapped her things together, rose, and turned a -sudden and frank face to his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good-bye. I think Lynette will be ever so safe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall do my best to keep her away from the -multitude of women.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve walked back through the pine woods to Orchards -Corner, thinking of Canterton and Lynette, and of the -woman who was too busy to know anything about -flowers. How Gertrude Canterton had delivered an epigram -upon herself by uttering those few words. She was just a -restless shuttle in the social loom, flying to and fro, weaving -conventional and unbeautiful patterns. And she was married -to a man whose very life was part of the green sap of -the earth, whose humility watched and wondered at the -mystery of growth, whose heart was, in some ways, the -heart of a child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What a sacramental blunder!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was a little troubled, yet conscious of a tremor -of exultation. Was it nothing to her that she was able to -talk to such a man as this. He was big, massive, yet full -of an exquisite tenderness. She had realised that when -she had seen him with the child. He had talked, and half -betrayed himself, yet she, the woman to whom he had talked, -could forgive him that. He was not a man who betrayed -things easily. His mouth and eyes were not those of a -lax and self-conscious egoist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve found her mother sitting in the garden, knitting, -and Eve’s conscience smote her a little. Orchards Corner -did not pulsate with excitements, and youth, with all its -ardour, had left age to its knitting needles and wool.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you been lonely, mother?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lonely, my dear? Why, I really never thought about -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was always discovering herself wasting her sentiments -upon this placid old lady. Mrs. Carfax did not -react as the daughter reacted. She was vegetative and quite -content to sit and contemplate nothing in particular, like a -cat staring at the fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bring a chair and a book out, dear. These June evenings -are so pleasant.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve followed her mother’s suggestion, knowing very -well that she would not be permitted to read. Mrs. -Carfax did not understand being silent, her conversation -resembling a slowly dripping tap that lets a drop fall every -few seconds. She had never troubled to read any book -that did not permit her to lose her place and to pick it -up again without missing anything of importance. She kept -a continuous sparrowish twittering, clicking her knitting -needles and sitting stiffly in her chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you had a nice day, dear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quite nice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you see Mr. Canterton?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, I saw him!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He must be a very interesting man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should think his wife is such a help to him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Looking after all the social duties, and improving -his position. I don’t suppose he would have held quite -the same position in the neighbourhood without her. She -was a Miss Jerningham, wasn’t she? And, of course, that -must have made a great deal of difference.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose it did, mother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course it did, my dear. Marriage makes or mars. -Mrs. Canterton must be very popular—so energetic and -public spirited, and, you see, one has to remember that -Mr. Canterton is in trade. That has not kept them from -being county people, and, of course, Mrs. Canterton is -responsible for the social position. He must be very proud -of his wife.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Possibly. I haven’t asked him, mother. I will, if -you like.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax was deaf and blind to humour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear Eve, I sometimes think you are a little -stupid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Am I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t seem to grasp things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps I don’t.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk106'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c08'></a>CHAPTER VIII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>LYNETTE TAKES TO PAINTING</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve Carfax was painting an easel picture of the walled -garden when Lynette arrived with a camp-stool, a drawing -book, a box of paints, and a little green watering-pot -full of water.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to make pictures. You’ll teach me, won’t -you, Miss Eve?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll try to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve got a lovely box of paints. What a nice music -stand you’ve got.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Some people call it an easel.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I ought to have one, oughtn’t I? I’ll ask Mr. Beeby -to make one. Mr. Beeby’s the carpenter. He’s such a -funny man, with a round-the-corner eye.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve took the apprenticeship as seriously as it was -offered, and started Lynette on a group of blue delphiniums, -white lilies, and scarlet poppies. Lynette began with fine -audacity, and red, white and blue splodges sprang up all -over the sheet. But they refused to take on any suggestion -of detail, and the more Lynette strove with them, -the smudgier they became.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Miss Eve!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How are you getting on?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not getting on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The colours seem to have got on your fingers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re all sticky. I oughtn’t to lick them, ought -I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. Try a rag.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll go and wash in the gold-fish basin. The gold-fish -won’t mind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She ran off into the Japanese garden, reappeared, -borrowed one of Eve’s clean rags, and stood watching -the expert’s brush laying on colours.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You do do it beautifully.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you see, I have done it for years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette meditated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall be awful old, then, before I can paint daddy -a picture. Can you draw fairies and animals?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Supposing I try?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, do. Draw some in my book.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The easel picture was covered up and abandoned for -the time being. The two stools were placed side by side, -and the two heads, the auburn and the black, came very -close together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll draw Mr. Puck.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Mr. Puck.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Puck is all round—round head, round eyes, -round mouth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a funny little round tummy you have given -him!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see, he’s rather greedy. Now we’ll draw Mr. -Bruin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy made such funny rhymes about Mr. Bruin. -Give him a top-hat. Isn’t that sweet? But what’s he doing—sucking -his fingers?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He has been stealing honey, and he’s licking his -paws.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now—now draw something out of the Bible.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Bible?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. Draw God making Eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That would take rather a long time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, draw the Serpent Devil, and God in the -garden.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll draw the serpent.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a lovely Snake Devil! Now, if I’d been God, -I’d have got a big stick and hit the Snake Devil on the -head. Wouldn’t it have saved lots and lots of trouble?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It would.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then why didn’t God do it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was rescued by Canterton from justifying such -theological incongruities. He found them with their heads -together, auburn and black bent over Lynette’s drawing-book. -He stood for a moment or two watching them, -and listening to their intimate prattle. This girl who loved -the colour and the mystery of life as he loved them could -be as a child with Lynette.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You seem very busy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette jumped up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy, come and look! Isn’t Miss Eve clever?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For some reason Eve blushed, and did not turn to -look at Canterton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here’s Mr. Puck, and old Bruin, and Titania, and -Orson, and the Devil Serpent. Miss Eve is just splendid -at devils.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is she? That’s rather a reflection.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stood behind Eve and looked down over her -shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have given the serpent a woman’s head.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned her chin but not her eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Symbolism?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I may have been thinking of something you said the -other day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A full-throated and good-humoured voice was heard -calling, “Lynette—Lynette!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, there’s Miss Vance! It’s the music lesson. I’ll -show her the Serpent Devil. I’ll come back, Miss Eve, -presently.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, come back, little Beech Leaf.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were silent for a few moments after she had gone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I like that name—‘Little Beech Leaf.’ Just the -colour—in autumn, and racing about in the wind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He came and stood in front of Eve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You seem to be getting on famously, you two.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes lifted to his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s delightful! No self-consciousness, no showing -off, and such vitality. And that hair and those elf’s eyes -of hers thrill one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And she likes you too, not a little.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve coloured.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, if she does, it’s like a bit of real life flying in -through the narrow window of little worries, and calling -one out to play.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Little worries?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to talk about them—the importunities -of the larder, and the holes in the house-linen, and -the weekly bills. I am always trying to teach myself -to laugh. And it is very good for one to be among -flowers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He glanced at the easel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have covered up the picture. May I see it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is not quite finished. In twenty minutes——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I come back in twenty minutes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I like my own flowers to be just at their best when -friends are to see them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, you understand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton left her and spent half an hour walking the -winding paths of the Japanese garden, crossing miniature -waterways, and gazing into little pools. There were dwarf -trees, dwarf hedges, and a little wooden temple half -smothered with roses in which sat a solemn, black marble -Buddha. This Buddha had caused a mystery and a scandal -in the neighbourhood, for it had been whispered that -Canterton was a Buddhist, and that he had been found on -his knees in this little wooden temple. In the pools, -crimson, white, and yellow lilies basked. The rocks were -splashed with colour. Clumps of Japanese iris spread out -their flat tops of purple and white and rose. Fish swam -in the pools with a vague glimmer of silver and gold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the end of half an hour Canterton returned to the -walled garden, and found Eve sitting before the picture, her -hands lying in her lap. The poise of her head reminded -him of “Beata Beatrix,” but her face had far more colour, -more passionate aliveness, and there was the sex mystery -upon her mouth and in the blackness of her hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ready?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned to him and smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, you may look.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stood gazing at her work in silence, yet with a -profound delight welling up into his eyes. She watched his -face, sensitively, hardly conscious of the fact that she wanted -to please him more than anyone else in the world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Exquisite! By George, you have eyes!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed softly in a happy, exultant throat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I surprised myself. I think it must be Lynette’s -magic, and the fairies in the Wilderness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you are going to paint like that, you ought to -do big things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t know! There are not many people who -really care.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s true.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He gazed again at the picture, and then his eyes -suddenly sought hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, you can see things—you can feel the colour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes it is so vivid that it almost hurts.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They continued to look into each other’s eyes, questioningly, -wonderingly, with something akin to self-realisation. -It was as though they had discovered each other, and were -re-discovering each other every time they met and talked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette reappeared where the long walk ended in a little -courtyard paved with red bricks, and surrounded by square-cut -box hedges. She had finished her half-hour’s music -lesson with Miss Vance, and was out again like a bird -on the wing. Canterton had insisted on limiting her lessons -to three hours a day, though his ideas on a child’s upbringing -had clashed with those of his wife. There had been a -vast deal of talking on Gertrude’s part, and a few laconic -answers on the part of her husband. Now and again, -when the issue was serious, Canterton quietly persisted -in having his own way. He never interfered with her -multifarious schemes. Gertrude could fuss here, there, and -everywhere, provided she did not tamper with Lynette’s -childhood, or thrust her activities into the serious life of -the great gardens of Fernhill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s go and have tea in the Wilderness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll come, Miss Eve?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She snuggled up to Eve, and an arm went round her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid I can’t, dear, to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why can’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must go home and take care of my mother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette seemed to regard this as a very quaint excuse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How funny! Fancy anyone wanting to take care -of my mother. Why, she’s always wanting to take care of -everybody else, ’cept me! I wonder if they like it? I -shouldn’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your mother is very kind to everybody, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is she? Then why don’t Sarah, and Ann, and Edith, -and Johnson, like her? I know they don’t, for I’ve heard -them talking. They all love you, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton looked at her gravely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mustn’t listen to what everybody says. And -never tell tales of everybody. Come along, old lady, -we’ll go down to the Wilderness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish you’d come, Miss Eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish I could, but I mustn’t to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do like you so much, really I do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve drew Lynette close and kissed her with impulsive -tenderness. And Canterton, who saw the love in the kiss, -felt that he was standing at the gateway of mystery.</p> - -<hr class='tbk107'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c09'></a>CHAPTER IX</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>LIFE AT FERNHILL</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Fernhill breakfast table was very characteristic of the -Canterton <span class='it'>ménage</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude Canterton came down ten minutes after the -gong had sounded, bustling into the room with every sign -of starting the day in a rush. Her hair looked messy, -with untidy strands at the back of her neck. She wore -any old dress that happened to come to hand, and as often -as not she had a piece of tape hanging out, or a hook -and eye unfastened. Breakfast time was not her hour. -She looked yellow, and thin, and voracious, and her hands -began fidgeting at once with the pile of letters and circulars -beside her plate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton had half finished breakfast. He and his wife -were as detached from each other at table as they were -in all their other relationships. Gertrude was quite incapable -of pouring out his tea, and never remembered whether -the sugar was in or not. She always plunged straight into -her chaotic correspondence, slitting the envelopes and -wrappers with a table knife, and littering the whole of -her end of the table with paper. She complained of the -number of letters she received, but her restless egoism -took offence if she was not pestered each morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton had something to tell her, something that a -curious sense of the fitness of things made him feel -that she ought to know. It did not concern her in -the least, but he always classed Gertrude and formalism -together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have arranged with Miss Carfax to paint the -illustrations for my book.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude was reading a hospital report, her bacon half -cold upon her plate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One moment, James.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He smiled tolerantly, and passed her his cup by way -of protest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Anyhow, I should like some more tea.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tea?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She took the cup, and proceeded to attempt two things -at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You might empty the dregs out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She humoured his fussiness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have something supremely interesting here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Meanwhile, the teapot is taking liberties. Inside the -cup, my dear Gertrude!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had often seen her try to read a letter and fill -a cup at the same moment. Sometimes she emptied the -contents of the milk jug into the teapot, mistaking it for -the hot water.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear, dear!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is rather difficult to concentrate on two things -at once.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She passed him the cup standing in a sloppy saucer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I take sugar!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do help yourself, James. I never can remember.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude finished glancing through the hospital report, -and picked up a second letter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wanted to tell you that I have engaged Miss Carfax -to paint the pictures for my book.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What book, James?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The book on English gardens.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He saw her preparing to get lost in a long letter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Carfax has quite extraordinary ability. I think -I may find her useful in other ways. Each year we have -more people coming to us, wanting us to plan their -gardens. She could take some of that work and save me -time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That will be very nice for you, James.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I need a second brain here, a brain that has an instinct -for colour and effect.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I think you do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sat and gazed at her with grave and half cynical -amusement. Such a piece of news might have seemed of -some importance to the average married woman, touching -as it did, the edge of her own empire, and Canterton, as he -watched her wrinkling up her forehead over those sheets -of paper, realised how utterly unessential he had become -to this woman whom he had married. He was not visible -on her horizon. She included him among the familiar -fixtures of Fernhill, and was not sufficiently interested -even to suspect that any other woman might come into -his life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From that time Eve Carfax came daily to Fernhill, and -made pictures of roses and flowering shrubs, rock walls -and lily pools, formal borders and wild corners where art -had abetted Nature. Canterton had given her a list of the -subjects he needed, a kind of floral calendar for her -guidance. And from painting the mere portraits of plants -and flowers she was lured on towards a desire to peer -into the intricate inner life of all this world of growth -and colour. Canterton lent her books. She began to read -hard in the evenings, and to spend additional hours in the -Fernhill nurseries, wandering about with a catalogue, learning -the names and habits of plants and trees. She was absorbed -into the life of the place. The spirit of thoroughness that -dominated everything appealed to her very forcibly. She, -too, wanted to be thorough, to know the life-stories of -the flowers she painted, to be able to say, “Such and -such flowers will give such and such combinations of -colours at a certain particular time.” The great gardens -were full of individualities, moods, whims, aspirations. She -began to understand Canterton’s immense sympathy with -everything that grew, for sympathy was essential in such a -world as this. Plants had to be watched, studied, encouraged, -humoured, protected, understood. And the more -she learnt, the more fascinated she became, understanding -how a man or a woman might love all these growing -things as one loves children.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was very happy. And though absorbed into the -life of the place, she kept enough individuality to be able -to stand apart and store personal impressions. Life moved -before her as she sat in some corner painting. She began -to know something of Lavender, something of the men, -something of the skill and foresight needed in the production -and marketing of such vital merchandise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One of the first things that Eve discovered was the -extent of Canterton’s popularity. He was a big man with -big views. He treated his men generously, but never -overlooked either impertinence or slackness. “Mr. Canterton -don’t stand no nonsense,” was a saying that rallied -the men who uttered it. They were proud of him, proud -of the great nurseries, proud of his work. The Fernhill men -had their cricket field, their club house, their own gardens. -Canterton financed these concerns, but left the management -to the men’s committee. He never interfered with them -outside their working hours, never preached, never condescended. -The respect they bore him was phenomenal. -He was a big figure in all their lives—a figure that counted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As for Gertrude Canterton, they detested her wholeheartedly. -Her unpopularity was easily explained, for her -whole idea of philanthropy was of an attitude of restless -intrusion into the private lives of the people. She visited, -harangued, scolded, and was mortally disliked for her multifarious -interferences. The mothers were lectured on the -feeding of infants, and the cooking of food. She entered -cottages as though she were some sort of State inspector, -and behaved as though she always remembered the fact that -the cottages belonged to her husband.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The men called her “Mother Fussabout,” and by the -women she was referred to as “She.” They had agreed -to recognise the fact that Gertrude Canterton had a very -busy bee in her bonnet, and, with all the mordant shrewdness -of their class, suffered her importunities and never -gave a second thought to any of her suggestions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Visitors came almost daily to the Fernhill nurseries, -and were taken round by Lavender, the foreman, or by -Canterton himself. Sometimes they passed Eve while she -was painting, and she could tell by the expression of -Canterton’s eyes whether he was dealing with rich dilettanti -or with people who knew. Humour was to be got out of -some of these tours of inspection, and Canterton would -come back smiling over the “buy-the-whole-place” attitude -of some rich and indiscriminate fool.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have just had a gentleman who thought the Japanese -garden was for sale.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A Canadian who has made a fortune in land and -wood-pulp and has bought a place over here. When I -showed him the Japanese garden, he said, ‘I’ll take this in -the lump, stones, and fish, and trees, and the summer-house, -and the little joss house. See?’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was he very disappointed when you told him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no. He asked me to name a price for fixing -him up with an identical garden, including a god. ‘Seems -sort of original to have a god in your garden.’ I said we -were too busy for the moment, and that gods are expensive, -and are not to be caught every day of the week.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They laughed, looking into each other’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What queer things humans are!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A madman turned up here once whose mania was -water lilies. He had an idea he was a lotus eater, and he -stripped and got into the big lily tank and made a -terrible mess of the flowers. It took us an hour to catch -him and get him out, and we had him on our hands for a -week, till his people tracked him down and took him home. -He seemed quite sane on most things, and was a fine -botanist, but he had this one mad idea.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps it was some enthusiasm gone wrong. One can -sympathise with some kinds of madmen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When one looks at things dispassionately one might -be tempted to swear that half our civilisation is absolutely -mad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stood beside her for a while and watched her -painting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are getting quite a lot of technical knowledge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to be thorough. And Fernhill has aroused an -extraordinary curiosity in me. I want to know the why -and the wherefore.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He found that it gave him peculiar satisfaction to -watch her fingers moving the brush. She was doing her -own work and his at the same moment, and the suggestion -of comradeship delighted him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It wouldn’t do you any harm to go through a course -of practical gardening. It all helps. Gives one the real -grip on a subject.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should like it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could arrange it for you with Lavender. It has -struck me, too, that if you care to keep to this sort of -work——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked up at him with eyes that asked, “Why -not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You may want to do bigger things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But if the present work fills one’s life?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could find you plenty of chances for self-expression. -Every year I have more people coming to me wanting -plans for gardens, wild gardens, rose gardens, formal -gardens. I could start a new profession in design alone. -I am pretty sure you could paint people fine, prophetic -pictures, and then turn your pictures into the reality.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Could I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She flushed, and he noticed it, and the soft red tinge -that spread to her throat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course you could, with your colour sense and -your vision. You only want the technical knowledge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am trying to get that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you know, it would interest me immensely, as -an artist, to see what you would create.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You seem to believe——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I believe you would have very fine visions which it -would be delightful for me to plant into life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned and looked at him with something in her -eyes that he had never seen before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I believe I could do it, if you believe I can do it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had a sudden desire to stretch out his hand and to -touch her hair, even as he touched Lynette’s hair, with a -certain playful tenderness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meanwhile Eve’s friendship with Lynette became a thing -of unforeseen responsibilities. Lynette would come running -out into the gardens directly her lessons were over, search -for Eve, and seat herself at her feet with all the devotedness -of childhood that sets up idols. Sometimes Lynette brought -a story-book or her paint-box, but these were mere superfluities. -It was the companionship that mattered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It appeared that Lynette was getting behind Miss Vance -and her Scripture lessons, and she began to ask Eve a -child’s questions—questions that she found it impossible to -answer. Miss Vance, who was a solid and orthodox young -woman, had no difficulty at all in providing Lynette with -a proper explanation of everything. But Lynette had -inherited her father’s intense and sensitive curiosity, and she -was beginning to walk behind Miss Vance’s machine-made -figures of finality and to discover phenomena that Miss -Vance’s dogmas did not explain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who made the Bible, Miss Eve?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A number of wise and good men, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Vance says God made it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, He made everything, so I suppose Miss Vance -is right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Has Miss Vance ever seen God?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But she seems to know all about Him, just as though -she’d met Him at a party. Have you seen Him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Has anyone?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No one whom I know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then how do we know that God is God?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because He must be God. Because everything He has -made is so wonderful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But Miss Vance seems to know all about Him, and -when I ask her how she knows she gets stiff and funny, -and says there are things that little girls can’t understand. -Isn’t God very fond of children, Miss Eve, dear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Doesn’t it seem funny, then, that He shouldn’t -come and play with me as daddy does?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God’s ever so busy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is He busy like mother?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No; not quite like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All this was rather a breathless business, and Eve -felt as though she were up before the Inquisition, and -likely to be found out. Lynette’s eyes were always watching -her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Miss Eve, where do all the little children come -from?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God sends them, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bogey, our cat, had kittens this morning. I found -them all snuggling up in the cupboard under the back -stairs. Isn’t it funny! Yesterday there weren’t any kittens, -and this morning there are five.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s how lots of things happen, dear. Everything -is wonderful. You see a piece of bare ground, and two -or three weeks afterwards it is full of little green plants.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do kittens come like that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In a way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did they grow out of the cupboard floor? They -couldn’t have done, Miss Eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They grew out of little eggs, dear, like chickens out -of their eggs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I’ve never seen kittens’ eggs, have you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, little Beech Leaf, I haven’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve felt troubled and perplexed, and she appealed to -Canterton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is one to tell her? It’s so difficult. I wouldn’t -hurt her for worlds. I remember I had all the old solemn -make-believes given me, and when I found them out it -hurt, rather badly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He smiled with his grave eyes—eyes that saw so much.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you believe in anything?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you think with the nineteenth-century materialists -that life is a mere piece of mechanism?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Something or someone is responsible. We have just -as much right to postulate God as we postulate ether.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Could you conscientiously swear that you don’t believe -in some sort of prime cause?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course I couldn’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, there you are. We are not so very illogical -when we use the word God.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked into the distance, thinking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“After all, life’s a marvellous fairy tale.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Exactly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And sometimes we get glimmerings of the ‘how,’ -if we do not know the ‘why.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let a child go on believing in fairy tales—let us all -keep our wonder and our humility. All that should happen -is that our wonder and our humility should widen and deepen -as we grow older, and fairy tales become more fascinating. I -must ask Miss Vance to put all that Old Testament stuff -of hers on the shelf. When you don’t know, tell the child -so. But tell her there is someone who does know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes lifted to his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you, so much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We can only use words, even when we feel that we -could get beyond words. Music goes farther, and colour, -and growth. I don’t think you will ever hurt the child -if you are the child with her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I understand.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk108'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c10'></a>CHAPTER X</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>TEA IN THE WILDERNESS</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton needed pictures of the Italian gardens at -Latimer Abbey, and since he had received permission to -show the Latimer gardens in his book, it devolved upon -Eve Carfax to make a pilgrimage to the place. Latimer, -a small country town, lay some seventy miles away, and -Canterton, who knew the place, told Eve to write to the -George Hotel and book a room there. The work might -take her a week, or more, if the weather proved cloudy. -Canterton wanted the gardens painted in full sunlight, with -all the shadows sharp, and the colours at their brightest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day before Eve’s journey to Latimer was a “Wilderness -day.” Lynette had made Eve promise to have a camp -tea with her in the dell among the larches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy says you like sweet cakes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy’s a tease.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I asked Sarah, and she’s made a lot of lovely little -cakes, some with chocolate ice, and some with jam and -cream inside.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shan’t come just for the cakes, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But because of you and your Wilderness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, but you will like the cakes, won’t you? Sarah -and me’s taken such a lot of trouble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You dear fairy godmother! I want to kiss you, -hard!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They started out together about four o’clock, Eve -carrying the tea-basket, and Lynette a red cushion and an -old green rug. The heath garden on the hill-side above the -larch wood was one great wave of purple, rose, and white, -deep colours into which vision seemed to sink with a sense -of utter satisfaction. The bracken had grown three or four -feet high along the edge of the larch wood, so that -Lynette’s glowing head disappeared into a narrow green lane. -It was very still and solemn and mysterious in among -the trees, with the scattered blue of the sky showing through -and the sunlight stealing in here and there and making -patterns upon the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were busy boiling the spirit kettle when Canterton -appeared at the end of the path through the larch wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Queen Mab, Queen Mab, may I come down into -your grotto?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette waved to him solemnly with a hazel wand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come along down, Daddy Bruin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He climbed down into the dell laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is a nice title to give a parent. I might eat -you both up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sure you’d find Miss Eve very nice to eat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear child!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How goes the kettle?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are nearly ready. Here’s the rug to sit on, daddy. -Miss Eve’s going to have the red cushion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The cushion of state. What about the cakes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sarah’s made such lovely ones.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve’s eyes met Canterton’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was ungenerous of you to betray me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not at all. It was sheer tact on my part.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Tea was a merry meal, with both Lynette and her -father dilating on the particular excellences of the different -cakes, and insisting that she would be pleasing Sarah by -allowing herself to be greedy. In the fullness of time -Canterton lit a pipe, and Lynette, sitting next him on the -green rug with her arms about her knees, grew talkative -and problematical.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t it funny how God sends people children?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Most strange.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did you say, daddy, when God sent you me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“‘Here’s another horrible responsibility!’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy, you didn’t! But wasn’t it funny that I -was sent to mother?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette, old lady——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, why wasn’t I sent to Miss Eve?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton reached out and lifted her into his lap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bruin tickles little girls who ask too many questions.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the midst of her struggles and her laughter his eyes -met Eve’s, and found them steady and unabashed, yet full -of a vivid self-consciousness. They glimmered when they -met his, sending a mesmeric thrill through him, and for -the moment he could not look away. It was as though -the child had flashed a mysterious light into the eyes of -both, and uttered some deep nature cry that had startled -them in the midst of their playfulness. Canterton’s eyes -seemed to become bluer, and more intent, and Eve’s mouth -had a tremulous tenderness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette was a young lady of dignity, and Canterton -was reproved.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look how you’ve rumpled my dress, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I apologise. Supposing we go for a ramble, and -call for our baggage on the way back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Both Eve and Canterton rose, and Lynette came between -them, holding each by the hand. They wandered through -the Wilderness and down by the pollard pool, where the -swallows skimmed the still water. Lynette was mute, -sharing the half dreamy solemnity of her elders. The -playfulness was out of the day, and even the child felt -serious.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was past six when they returned to the garden, -and Lynette, whose supper hour was due, hugged Eve -hard as she said good-bye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will write to me, Miss Eve, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I’ll write.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She found that Canterton had not come to the point -of saying good-bye. He walked on with her down one -of the nursery roads between groups of rare conifers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am going to walk to Orchards Corner. Do you -mind?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t met your mother yet. I don’t know -whether it is the proper time for a formal call.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mother will be delighted. She is always delighted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A happy temperament.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They chose the way through the fir woods, and talked -of the Latimer Abbey gardens, and of the particular -atmosphere Canterton wanted her to produce for him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you’ll get it! You’ll get the very thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What an optimist you are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps I am more of a mystic.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mystery of the woods seemed to quicken that -other mysterious self-consciousness that had been stirred -by the child, Lynette. They were in tune, strung to vibrate -to the same subtle, and plaintive notes. As they walked, -their intimate selves kept touching involuntarily and starting -apart, innocent of foreseeing how rich a thrill would come -from the contact. Their eyes questioned each other behind -a veil of incredulity and wonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will write to Lynette?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a naive and half plaintive uplift of her -voice towards the “yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Little Beech Leaf is a warm-hearted fairy. Do you -know, I am very glad of this comradeship, for her sake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You make me feel very humble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. You are just the kind of elder sister that she -needs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had almost said mother, and the word mother was -in Eve’s heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you realise that I am learning from Lynette?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t doubt it. One ought to learn deep things -from a child.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They reached the lane leading to Orchards Corner, -and on coming to the white fence sighted Mrs. Carfax -sitting in the garden, with the inevitable knitting in her -lap. Canterton was taken in and introduced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Please don’t get up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax was coy and a little fluttered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do sit down, Mr. Canterton. I feel that I must thank -you for your great kindness to my daughter. I am sure -that both she and I are very grateful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So am I, Mrs. Carfax.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed, Mr. Canterton?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For the very fine work your daughter is going to -do for me. I was in doubt as to who to get, when -suddenly she appeared.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax bowed in her chair like some elderly -queen driving through London.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am so glad you like Eve’s paintings. I think she -paints quite nicely. Of course she studied a great deal at -the art schools, and she would have exhibited, only we -could not afford all that we should have liked to afford. -It is really most fortunate for Eve that you should be so -pleased with her painting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her placid sing-song voice, with its underlining of the -“sos” the “quites,” and the “mosts,” made Canterton -think of certain maiden aunts who had tried to spoil him -when he was a child. Mother and daughter were in strange -contrast. The one all fire, sensitive aliveness, curiosity, -colour; the other flat, sweetly foolish, toneless, apathetic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton stayed chatting with Mrs. Carfax for twenty -minutes, while Eve sat by in silence, watching them with -an air of dispassionate curiosity. Mrs. Carfax was just a -child, and Canterton was at his best with children. Eve -found herself thinking how much bigger, gentler, and more -patient his nature was than hers. Things that irritated -her, made him smile. He was one of the few masterful -men who could bear with amiable stupidity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he had said good-bye to her mother, Eve went -with him to the gate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good-bye. Enjoy yourself. And when you write to -Lynette, send me a word or two.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He held her hand for two or three seconds, and his -eyes looked into hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will be delighted with Latimer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. And I will try to bring you back what you -want.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have no doubts as to that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stood for a moment at the gate, watching his -broad figure disappear between the green hedgerows of the -lane. A part of herself seemed to go with him, an outflowing -of something that came from the deeps of her -womanhood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, dear, what a nice man Mr. Canterton is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nice” was the principal adjective in Mrs. Carfax’s -vocabulary.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So good looking, and such nice manners. You would -never have thought that he——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was in trade?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not quite that, dear, but selling things for money.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, he might give them away. I suppose his -social position would be greatly improved!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think that would be quite feasible, dear. -Really, sometimes, you are almost simple.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton was walking through the woods, head bent, -his eyes curiously solemn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What I want! She will bring me back what I want. -What is it that I want?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He came suddenly from the shadows of the woods -into the full splendour of the evening light upon blue -hills and dim green valleys. He stopped dead, eyes at -gaze, a spasm of vague emotion rising in his throat. This -sun-washed landscape appeared like a mysterious projection -of something that lay deep down in his consciousness. -What was it he wanted? A vital atmosphere such as this—comradeship, -sympathy, passionate understanding.</p> - -<hr class='tbk109'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c11'></a>CHAPTER XI</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>LATIMER</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Eve had left for Latimer, the routine of Canterton’s -working day ran with the same purposefulness, like a -familiar path in a garden, yet though the scene was the -same, the atmosphere seemed different, even as a well-known -landscape may be glorified and rendered more mysterious -by the light poured out from under the edge of a -thunder cloud. A peculiar tenderness, a glamour of sensitiveness, -covered everything. He was more alive to the beauty -of the world about him, and the blue hills seemed to -hang like an enchantment on the edge of the horizon. -He felt both strangely boyish and richly mature. Something -had been renewed in him. He was an Elizabethan, -a man of a wonderful new youth, seeing strange lands -rising out of the ocean, his head full of a new splendour -of words and a new majesty of emotions. The old self -in him seemed as young and fresh as the grass in spring. -His vitality was up with the birds at dawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first two days were days of dreams. The day’s -work was the same, yet it passed with a peculiar pleasureableness -as though there were soft music somewhere keeping -a slow rhythm. He was conscious of an added wonder, -of the immanence of something that had not taken material -shape. A richer light played upon the colours of the -world about him. He was conscious of the light, but -he did not realise its nature, nor whence it came.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the third day the weather changed, and an absurd restlessness -took possession of him. Rain came in rushes out of -a hurrying grey sky, and the light and the warmth seemed -to have gone out of the world. Mysterious outlines took -on a sharp distinctness. Figures were no longer the glimmering -shapes of an Arthurian dream. Canterton became -more conscious of the physical part of himself, of appetites, -needs, inclinations, tendencies. Something was hardening -and taking shape.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He began to think more definitely of Eve at Latimer, -and she was no longer a mere radiance spreading itself -over the routine of the day’s work. Was she comfortable -at the old red-faced “George”? Was the weather interfering -with her work? Would she write to Lynette, and -would the letter have a word for him? What a wonderful -colour sense she had, and what cunning in those fingers -of hers. He liked to remember that peculiar radiant look, -that tenderness in the eyes that came whenever she was -stirred by something that was unusually beautiful. It was -like the look in the eyes of a mother, or the light in -the eyes of a woman who loved. He had seen it when -she was looking at Lynette.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, quite suddenly, he became conscious of a sense -of loss. He was unable to fix his attention on his work, -and his thoughts went drifting. He felt lonely. It was -as though he had been asleep and dreaming, and had -wakened up suddenly, hungry and restless, and vaguely -discontented.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even Lynette’s chatter was a spell cast about his -thoughts. Having created a heroine, the child babbled of -her and her fascinations, and Canterton discovered a secret -delight in hearing Lynette talk of Eve Carfax. He could -not utter the things that the child uttered, and yet they seemed -so inevitable and so true, so charmingly and innocently -intimate. It brought Eve nearer, showed her to him as a -more radiant, gracious, laughing figure. Lynette was an -enchantress, a siren, and knew it not, and Canterton’s -ears were open to her voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder if my letter will come to-day, daddy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s over two—three days. It ought to be a big -letter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A big letter for a little woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder if she writes as beautifully as she paints?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very likely.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And, oh, daddy, will she be back for our garden -party?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mother says I can’t behave nicely at parties. I -shall go about with Miss Eve, and I’ll do just what she -does. Then I ought to behave very nicely, oughtn’t I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perfectly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do love Miss Eve, daddy, don’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We always agree, Miss Pixie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the fourth day Lynette had her letter. It came -by the morning’s post, with a little devil in red and -black ink dancing on the flap of the envelope. Lynette -had not received more than three letters in her life, and -the very address gave her a beautiful new thrill.</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Miss Lynette Canterton,</p> -<p class='line'>     Fernhill,</p> -<p class='line'>          Basingford,</p> -<p class='line'>                 Surrey.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Lessons over, she went rushing out in search of her -father, and, after canvassing various under-gardeners, discovered -him in a corner of the rose nursery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Eve’s written, daddy! I knew she would. -Would you like to read it? Here’s a message for -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sat down on a wooden bench, and drawing Lynette -into the hollow of one arm, took the letter in a big hand. -It was written on plain cream paper of a roughish texture, -with a little picture of the “George Hotel” penned in the -right upper corner. Eve’s writing was the writing of the -younger generation, so different from the regular, sloping, -characterless style of the feminine Victorians. It was rather -upright, rather square, picturesque in its originality, and with -a certain decorative distinctness that covered the sheet of -paper with personal and intimate values.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear Lynette,—I am writing to you at a funny little -table in a funny little window that looks out on Latimer -Green. It has been raining all day—oh, such rain!—like -thousands of silver wires falling down straight out of the -sky. If you were here we would sit at the window and -make pictures of the queer people—all legs and umbrellas—walking -up and down the streets. Here is the portrait -of an umbrella going out for a walk on a nice pair of -legs in brown gaiters.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is an old raven in the garden here. I tried -to make friends with him, but he pecked my ankles. And -they say he uses dreadful language. Wicked old bird! -Here is a picture of him pretending to be asleep, with -one eye open, waiting for some poor Puss Cat to come -into the garden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is a nice old gardener who makes me tea in -the afternoon, but I don’t like it so much as tea in the -Wilderness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to be back to see you in your new party -frock next Friday. I feel quite lonely without the Queen -of the Fairies. If you were here I would buy you such -cakes at the little shop across the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Please tell Mr. Canterton that the weather was very -good to me the first two days, and that I hope he will -like the pictures that I have painted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good-bye, Lynette, dear,</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:6em;'>Much—much love to you, from</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;'>“<span class='sc'>Miss Eve</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette was ecstatic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t it a lovely letter, daddy? And doesn’t she write -beautifully? And it’s all spelt just as if it were out of -a book.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton folded the letter with meditative leisureliness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quite a lovely letter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to put it away in my jewel case.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jewel case? We are getting proud!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s only a work-box, really, but I call it a jewel -case.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see. Things are just what we choose to call them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton went about for the rest of the day with a -picture of a dark-haired woman with a sensitive face sitting -at a white framed Georgian window, and looking out upon -Latimer Green where all the red-tiled roofs were dull and -wet, and the rain rustled upon the foliage of the Latimer -elms. He could imagine Eve drawing those pen-and-ink -sketches for Lynette, with a glimmer of fun in her eyes, -and her lips smiling. She was seventy miles away, and -yet——He found himself wondering whether her -thoughts had reached out to him while she was writing -that letter to Lynette.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At Latimer the rain was the mere whim of a day, a -silver veil let down on the impulse and tossed aside again -with equal capriciousness. Eve was deep in the Latimer -gardens, painting from nine in the morning till six at night, -taking her lunch and tea with her, and playing the gipsy -under a blue sky.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Save for that one wet day the weather was perfect -for studies of vivid sunlight and dense shadow. Latimer -Abbey set upon its hill-side, with the dense woods shutting -out the north, seemed to float in the very blue of the -summer sky. There was no one in residence, and, save -for the gardeners, Eve had the place to herself, and was -made to feel like a child in a fairy story, who discovers -some enchanted palace all silent and deserted, yet kept -beautiful by invisible hands. As she sat painting in the -upper Italian garden with its flagged walks, statues, brilliant -parterres, and fountains, she could not escape from a sense -of enchantment. It was all so quiet, and still, and empty. -The old clock with its gilded face in the turret kept -smiting the hours with a quaint, muffled cry, and with -each striking of the hour she had a feeling that all the -doors and windows of the great house would open, and -that gay ladies in flowered gowns, and gentlemen in rich -brocades would come gliding out on to the terrace. Gay -ghosts in panniers and coloured coats, powdered, patched, -fluttering fans, and cocking swords, quaint in their stilted -stateliness. The magic of the place seemed to flow into -her work, and perhaps there was too much mystery in the -classic things she painted. Some strange northern god had -breathed upon the little sensuous pictures that should have -suggested the gem-like gardens of Pompeii. Clipped yews -and box trees, glowing masses of mesembryanthemum and -pelargonium, orange trees in stone vases, busts, statues, -masks, fountains and white basins, all the brilliancy thereof -refused to be merely sensuous and delightful. There was -something over it, a spirituality, a slight mistiness that -softened the materialism. Eve knew what she desired to paint, -and yet something bewitched her hands, puzzled her, made -her dissatisified. The Gothic spirit refused to be conjured, -refused to suffer this piece of brilliant formalism to remain -untouched under the thinner blue of the northern sky.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was puzzled. She made sketch after sketch, and -yet was not satisfied. Was it mediævalism creeping in, the -ghosts of old monks moving round her, and throwing the -shadows of their frocks over a pagan mosaic? Or was the -confusing magic in her own brain, or some underflow of -feeling that welled up and disturbed her purpose?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moreover, she discovered that another personality had -followed her to Latimer. She felt as though Canterton -were present, standing behind her, looking over her shoulder, -and watching her work. She seemed to see things with his -eyes, that the work was his work, and that it was not -her personality alone that mattered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The impression grew and became so vivid that it -forced her from the mere contemplation of the colours and -the outlines of the things before her to a subtle consciousness -of the world within herself. Why should she feel -that he was always there at her elbow? And yet -the impression was so strong that she fancied that she -had but to turn her head to see him, to talk to him, -and to look into his eyes for sympathy and understanding. -She tried to shake the feeling off, to shrug her shoulders -at it, and failed. James Canterton was with her all the -while she worked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a second Italian garden at Latimer, a -recreation, in the spirit, of the garden of the Villa d’Este -at Tivoli, a hill garden, a world of terraces, stone stairways, -shaded walks, box hedges, cypresses and cedars, fountains, -cascades, great water cisterns. Here was more mystery, -deeper shadows, a sadder note. Eve was painting in the -lower garden on the day following the rain, when the -lights were softer, the foliage fresher, the perfumes more -pungent. There was the noise of water everywhere. The -sunlight was more partial and more vague, splashing into -the open spaces, hanging caught in the cypresses and cedars, -touching some marble shape, or glittering upon the water -in some pool. Try as she would, Eve felt less impersonal -here than in the full sunlight of the upper garden. That -other spirit that had sent her to Latimer seemed to follow -her up and down the moss-grown stairways, to walk with -her through the shadows under the trees. She was more -conscious of Canterton than ever. He was the great, grave -lord of the place, watching her work with steady eyes, -compelling her to paint with a touch that was not all -her own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sometimes the head gardener, who had tea made for -her in his cottage, came and watched her painting and -angled for a gossip. He was a superior sort of ancient, with -a passion for unearthing the history of plants that had -been introduced from distant countries. Canterton’s name -came up, and the old man found something to talk about.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t say as I’m an envious chap, but that’s the -sort of life as would have suited me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve paused at her work.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whose?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, Mr. Canterton’s, Miss.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know Mr. Canterton by name?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Know him by name! I reckon I do! Didn’t he raise -Eileen Purcell and Jem Gaunt, and bring all those Chinese -and Indian plants into the country, and hybridise Mephistopheles? -Canterton! It’s a name to conjure with.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve felt an indefinable pleasure in listening to the -fame of the man whose work she was learning to share, -for it was fame to be spoken of with delight by this old -Latimer gardener.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton’s writing a book, is he?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and I am painting some of the pictures for it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you now? I have a notion I should like that -book. Aye, it should be a book!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The work of years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure! None of your cheap popular sixpenny amateur -stuff. It’ll be what you call ‘de lucks,’ won’t it? Such -things cost money.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was silent a moment. The old man was genuine -enough, and not touting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps Mr. Canterton would send you a copy. You -would appreciate it. I’ll give him your name.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no, though I thank you, miss. A good tool is -worth its money. I’m not a man to get a good thing -for nothing. I reckon I’ll buy that there book.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It won’t be published for two or three years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’m in no hurry! I’m used to waiting for things -to grow solid. Sapwood ain’t no use to anybody.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had a desire to see the hill garden by moonlight, -and the head gardener was sympathetic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We lock the big gate at dusk when his lordship’s -away. But you come round at nine o’clock to the postern -by the dovecot, and I’ll let you in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The hill garden’s mood was suited to the full moon. -Eve had dreamt of such enchantments, but had never seen -them till that summer night. There was not a cloud in the -sky, and the cypresses and cedars were like the black -spires of a city. The alleys and walks were tunnels of -gloom. Here and there a statue or a fountain glimmered, -and the great water cisterns were pools of ink reflecting -the huge white disc of the moon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve wandered to and fro along the moonlit walks and -up and down the dim stairways. The stillness was broken -only by the splash of water, and by the turret clock -striking the quarters.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the night of her last day at Latimer. She -would be sorry to leave it, and yet, to-morrow she would -be at Fernhill. Lynette’s glowing head flashed into her -thoughts, and a rush of tenderness overtook her. If life -could be like the joyous eyes of the child, if passion went -no further, if all problems remained at the age of seven!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How would Canterton like the pictures she had painted? -A thrill went through her, and at the same time she -felt that the garden was growing cold. A sense of unrest -ruffled the calm of the moonlit night. She felt near to -some big, indefinable force, on the edge of the sea, vaguely -afraid of she knew not what.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She would see him to-morrow. It was to be the day -of the Fernhill garden party, and she had promised Lynette -that she would go.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She felt glad, yet troubled, half tempted to shirk the -affair, and to stay with her mother at Orchards Corner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A week had passed, and she could not escape from -the knowledge that something had happened to her in -that week.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet what an absurd drift of dreams was this that -she was suffering. The moonlight and the mystery were -making her morbid and hypersensitive.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To-morrow she would walk out into the sunlight and -meet him face to face in the thick of a casual crowd. -All the web of self-consciousness would fall away. She -would find herself talking to a big, brown-faced man with -steady eyes and a steady head. He was proof against -such imaginings, far too strong to let such fancies cloud -his consciousness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moreover they were becoming real good friends, and she -imagined that she understood him. She had been too much -alone this week. His magnificent and kindly sanity would -make her laugh a little over the impressions that had -haunted her in the gardens of Latimer.</p> - -<hr class='tbk110'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c12'></a>CHAPTER XII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>A WEEK’S DISCOVERY</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Those who saw Lynette’s swoop towards her heroine -attached no esoteric meaning to its publicity. A sage green -frock and a bronze gold head went darting between the -figures on the Fernhill lawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Brocklebank, who could stop most people in full -career, as a policeman halts the traffic in the city, discovered -that it was possible for her largeness to be ignored.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette, my dear, come and show me——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette whisked past her unheedingly. Mrs. Brocklebank -tilted her glasses.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear me, how much too impetuous that child is. I -am always telling Gertrude that she is far too wild and -emotional.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Lankhurst, who was Mrs. Brocklebank’s companion -for the moment, threw back an echo.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A little neurotic, I think.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Lankhurst was a typical hard-faced, raddled, cut-mouthed -Englishwoman, a woman who had ceased to -trouble about her appearance simply because she had been -married for fifteen years and felt herself comfortably and -sexually secure. An unimaginative self-complacency seems -to be the chief characteristic of this type of Englishwoman. -She appears to regard marriage as a release from all -attempts at subtilising the charm of dress, lets her -complexion go, her figure slacken, her lips grow thin. -“George” is serenely and lethargically constant, so why -trouble about hats? So the good woman turns to leather, -rides, gardens, plays golf, and perhaps reads questionable -novels. The sex problem does not exist for her, yet -Mrs. Lankhurst’s “George” was notorious and mutable -behind her back. She thought him cased up in domestic -buckram, and never the lover of some delightful little -<span class='it'>dame aux Camellias</span>, who kept her neck white, and her -sense of humour unimpaired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette’s white legs flashed across the grass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Miss Eve!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve Carfax had stepped out through the open drawing-room -window, a slim and sensitive figure that carried -itself rather proudly in the face of a crowd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I knew you’d come! I knew you’d come!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She held out hands that had to be taken and held, -despite the formal crowd on the lawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m so glad you’re back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A red mouth waited to be kissed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have missed you—daddy and I.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Brocklebank was interested. So was her companion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who is that girl?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Lankhurst had a way of screwing up her eyes, -and wrinkling her forehead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A Miss Carfax. She lives with her mother near -here. Retired tradespeople, I imagine. The girl paints. -She is doing work for Mr. Canterton—illustrating catalogues, -I suppose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The child seems very fond of her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Children have a habit of making extraordinary friendships. -It is the dustman, or an engine-driver, or something -equally primitive.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose one would call the girl pretty?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Too French!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Lankhurst nodded emphatically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Englishmen are so safe. Now, in any other country -it would be impossible——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, quite! I imagine such a man as James Canterton——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The very idea is indecent. Our men are so reliable. -One never bothers one’s head. Yet one has only to cross -the Channel——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A decadent country. The women make the morals -of the men. Any nation that thinks so much about dress -uncovers its own nakedness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The multi-coloured crowd had spread itself over the -whole of the broad lawn in the front of the house, for -Gertrude Canterton’s garden parties were very complete -affairs, claiming people from half the county. She had one -of the best string bands that was to be obtained, ranged -in the shade of the big sequoia. The great cedar was a -kind of kiosk, and a fashionable London caterer had charge -of the tea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette kept hold of Eve’s hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where is your mother, dear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you want to see mother?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They wound in and out in quest of Gertrude Canterton, -and found her at last in the very centre of the crowd, -smiling and wriggling in the stimulating presence of a rear-admiral. -She was wearing a yellow dress and a purple hat, -a preposterous and pathetic combination of colours when -the man she had married happened to be one of the greatest -flower colourists in the kingdom. Eve shook hands and was -smiled at.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How do you do, Miss Garvice?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It isn’t Garvice, mother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was discreet and passed on, but Lynette was -called back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette, come and say how do you do to Admiral -Mirlees.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette stretched out a formal hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How do you do, Admiral Mirlees?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sailor gave her a big hand, and a sweep of the hat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How do you do, Miss Canterton? Charmed to meet -you! Supposing you come and show me the garden?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette eyed him gravely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Most of it’s locked up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Locked up?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because people steal daddy’s things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m very busy, Admiral, but I can give you ten -minutes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sailor’s eyes twinkled, but Gertrude Canterton -was angry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette, go and show Admiral Mirlees all the garden.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear Mrs. Canterton, I am quite sure that your -daughter is telling the truth. She must be in great -demand, and I shall be grateful for ten minutes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette’s eyes began to brighten to the big playful -child in him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord Admiral, I think you must look so nice in a -cocked hat. I’ve left Miss Eve, you see. She’s been -away, and she’s my great friend.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I won’t stand in Miss Eve’s way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But she’s not a bit selfish, and I think I might -spare half an hour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Canterton, let me assure you that I most deeply -appreciate this compliment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve, left alone, wandered here and there, knowing -hardly a soul, and feeling rather lost and superfluous. -Happiness in such shows consists in being comfortably -inconspicuous, a talker among talkers, though there are -some who can hold aloof with an air of casual detachment, -and outstare the crowd from some pillar of isolation. Eve -had a self-conscious fit upon her. Gertrude Canterton’s -parties were huge and crowded failures. The subtle atmosphere -that pervades such social assemblies was restless, -critical, uneasy, at Fernhill. People talked more foolishly -than usual, and were either more absurdly stiff or more -absurdly genial than was their wont.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The string band had begun to play one of Brahms’ -Hungarian melodies. It was a superb band, and the music -had an impetuous and barbaric sensuousness, a Bacchic rush -of half-naked bodies whirling together through a shower -of vine leaves and flowers. The talk on the lawn seemed -so much gabble, and Eve wandered out, and round behind -the great sequoia where she could listen to the music -and be at peace. She wondered what the violinists thought -of the crowd over yonder, these men who could make -the strings utter wild, desirous cries. What a stiff, preposterous, -and complacent crowd it seemed. Incongruous -fancies piqued her sense of humour. If Pan could come -leaping out of the woods, if ironical satyrs could seize and -catch up those twentieth century women, and wild-eyed -girls pluck the stiff men by the chins. The music suggested -it, but who had come to listen to the music?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been hunting you through the crowd.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned sharply, with all the self-knowledge that -she had won at Latimer rushing to the surface. A few -words spoken in the midst of the crying of the violins. She -felt the surprised nakedness of her emotions, that she was -stripped for judgment, and that sanity would be whipped -into her by the scourge of a strong man’s common sense.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have not been here very long.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She met his eyes and held her breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I saw you with Lynette, but I could not make -much headway.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton had taken her hand and held it a moment, -but his eyes never left her face. She was mute, full of a -wonder that was half exultant, half afraid. All those subtle -fancies that had haunted her at Latimer were becoming -realities, instead of melting away into the reasonable sunlight. -What had happened to both of them in a week? He -was the same big, brown, quiet man of the world, magnanimous, -reliable, a little reticent and proud, yet from the -moment that he had spoken and she had turned to meet -his eyes she had known that he had changed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I promised Lynette that I would come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aren’t you tired?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tired? No. I left Latimer early, and after all, it is -only seventy miles. I got home about twelve and found -mother knitting just as though she had been knitting ever -since I left her. Lynette looks lovely.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She felt the wild necessity of chattering, of covering -things up with sound, of giving her thoughts time to -steady themselves. His eyes overwhelmed her. It was not -that they were too audacious or too intimate. On the -contrary they looked at her with a new softness, a new -awe, a kind of vigilant tenderness that missed nothing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you are looking very well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am very well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She caught quick flitting glances going over her, noticing -her simple little black hat shaped like an almond, her -virginal white dress and long black gloves. The black -and white pleased him. Her feminine instinct told her that.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I came round here to listen to the music.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Music is expected at these shows, and not listened to. -I always call this ‘Padlock Day.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed, glad of a chance to let emotions relax -for a moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Padlock Day! Do you mean——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are too many Mrs. Brocklebanks about.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But surely——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You would be surprised if I were to tell you how -some of my choice things used to be pilfered on these -party days. Now I shut up my business premises on -these state occasions, for fear the Mrs. Brocklebanks should -bring trowels in their sunshades.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And instead, you give them good music?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Which they don’t listen to, and they could not -appreciate it if they did.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are severe!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Am I? Supposing these men gave us the Second -Hungarian Rhapsody, how could you expect the people -to understand it? In fact, it is not a thing to be understood, -but to be felt. Our good friends would be shocked -if they felt as Liszt probably meant people to feel it. -Blood and wine and garlands and fire in the eyes. Well, -how did you like Latimer?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The blood rose again to her face, and she knew that -the same light was in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perfect. I was tempted to dream all my time away -instead of painting. I hope you will like the pictures. -There was something in the atmosphere of the place that -bothered me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, just as though ghosts were trying to play tricks -with my hands. The gardens are classic, renaissance, or -what you please. It should have been all sunny, delightful -formalism, but then——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Something Gothic crept in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How do you know that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been to Latimer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes met his with a flash of understanding.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course. But I——Well, you must judge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The music had stopped, and an eddy of the crowd -came lapping round behind the sequoia. Canterton was -captured by an impetuous amateur gardener in petticoats -who had written a book about something or other, and -who always cast her net broadly at an interesting man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Mr. Canterton, can you tell me about those -Chinese primulas?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To Eve Carfax it appeared part of the whimsical and -senseless spirit of such a gathering that she should be -carried up against Gertrude Canterton, whose great joy -was to exercise the power of patronage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Carfax, Mr. Canterton seems so pleased with your -paintings. I am sure you are being of great use to him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As a matter of fact, Canterton had hardly so much -as mentioned Eve’s art to his wife, and Eve herself -felt that she had nothing to say to Gertrude Canterton. -Her pride hardened in her and refused to be cajoled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad Mr. Canterton likes my work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am sure he does. Have you studied much in town?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For two or three years. And I spent a year in -Paris.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude Canterton’s air of surprise was unconsciously -offensive.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you ever paint portraits?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have tried.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hear it is the most lucrative part of the profession. -Now, miniatures, for instance—there has been quite a craze -for miniatures. Have you tried them?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Really? We must see what you can do. You might -show me a—a sample, and I can mention it to my friends.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had become ice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you, but I am afraid I shall not have the time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to give all my energy to flower painting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see—I see. Oh, Mrs. Dempster, how are you? -How good of you to come. Have you had tea? No? -Oh, do come and let me get you some!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was alone again, and conscious of a sense of strife -within her. Gertrude Canterton’s voice had raised an echo, -an echo that brought back suggestions of antipathy and -scorn. Those few minutes spent with her had covered the -world of Eve’s impressions with a cold, grey light. She -felt herself a hard young woman, quite determined against -patronage, and quite incapable of letting herself be made -a fool of by any emotions whatever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Glancing aside she saw Canterton talking to a parson. -He was talking with his lips, but his eyes were on her. -He had the hovering and impatient air of a man held back -against his inclinations, and trying to cover with courtesy -his desire to break away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was coming back to her, for there was something -inevitable and magnetic about those eyes of his. A little -spasm of shame and exultation glowed out from the midst -of the half cynical mood that had fallen on her. She -turned and moved away, wondering what had become of -Lynette.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to show you something.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She felt herself thrill. The hardness seemed to melt -at the sound of his voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s get away from the crowd. It is really preposterous. -What fools we all are in a crowd.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Too much self-consciousness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you, too, self-conscious?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not when you are interested.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They passed several of Canterton’s men parading the -walks leading to the nurseries. Temporary wire fences and -gates had been put up here and there. Canterton smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Doesn’t it strike you as almost too pointed?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What, that barbed wire?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. I believe I have made myself an offence to the -neighbourhood. But the few people I care about understand. -Besides, we give to our friends.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you must have been a brave man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, an obstinate one. I did not see why the Mrs. -Brocklebanks should have pieces of my rare plants. I have -even had my men bribed once or twice. You should hear -Lavender on the subject. Look at that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had brought her down to see the heath garden, -and her verdict was an awed silence. They stood side by -side, looking at the magnificent masses of colour glowing -in the afternoon light.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, how exquisite!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is rather like drinking when one is thirsty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He half turned to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to see the Latimer paintings. May I come -down after dinner, and have a chat with your mother?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She felt something rise in her throat, a faint spasm -of resistance that lasted only for a moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But—the artificial light?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to see them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not so much a surrender on her part as a -tacit acceptance of his enthusiasm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk111'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c13'></a>CHAPTER XIII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>A MAN IN THE MOONLIGHT</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was no unusual thing for Canterton to spend hours -in the gardens and nurseries after dark. He was something -of a star-gazer and amateur astronomer, but it was the -life of the earth by night that drew him out with lantern, -collecting-box and hand lens. Often he went moth hunting, -for the history of many a moth is also the history of -some pestilence that cankers and blights the green growth -of some tree or shrub. No one who has not gone out -by night with a lantern to search and to observe has any -idea of the strange, creeping life that wakes with the darkness. -It is like the life of another world, thousand-legged, -slimy, grotesque, repulsive, and yet full of significance to -the Nature student who goes out to use his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton had some of Darwin’s thoroughness and -patience. He had spent hours watching centipedes or the -spore changes of myxomycetes on a piece of dead fir -bough. He experimented with various compounds for the -extinction of slugs, and studied the ways of wood-lice and -earth worms. All very ridiculous, no doubt, in a man -whose income ran into thousands a year. Sometimes he -had been able to watch a shrew at work, or perhaps a -queer snuffling sound warned him of the nearness of a -hedgehog. This was the utilitarian side of his vigils. He -was greatly interested, æsthetically and scientifically, in the -sleep of plants and flowers, and in the ways of those -particular plants whose loves are consummated at night, -shy white virgins with perfumed bodies who leave the -day to their bolder and gaudier fellows. Some moth -played Eros. He studied plants in their sleep, the change -of posture some of them adopted, the drooping of the -leaves, the closing of the petals. All sorts of things -happened of which the ordinary gardener had not the -slightest knowledge. There were atmospheric changes to be -recorded, frosts, dew falls and the like. Very often Canterton -would be up before sunrise, watching which birds -were stirring first, and who was the first singer to send a -twitter of song through the grey gate of the dawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But as he walked through the fir woods towards Orchards Corner, -his eyes were not upon the ground or turned to -the things that were near him. Wisps of a red sunset still -drifted about the west, and the trunks of the trees were -barred in black against a yellow afterglow. Soon a full -moon would be coming up. Heavy dew was distilling out -of the quiet air and drawing moist perfumes out of the -thirsty summer earth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Blue dusk covered the heathlands beyond Orchards -Corner, and the little tree-smothered house was invisible. -A light shone out from a window as Canterton walked up -the lane. Something white was moving in the dusk, -drifting to and fro across the garden like a moth from -flower to flower.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton’s hand was on the gate. Never before had -night fallen for him with such a hush of listening enchantment. -The scents seemed more subtle, the freshness of the -falling dew indescribably delicious. He passed an empty -chair standing on the lawn, and found a white figure -waiting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wondered whether you would come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not wonder. What a wash of dew, and what -scents.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the stillness. I wanted to see the moon hanging -in the fir woods.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The rim will just be topping the horizon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know the time by all the timepieces in Arcady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose I was born to see and to remember.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went into the little drawing-room that was Eve’s -despair when she felt depressed. This room was Mrs. -Carfax’s <span class='it'>lararium</span>, containing all the ugly trifles that she -treasured, and some of the ugliest furniture that ever was -manufactured. John Carfax had been something of an -amateur artist, and a very crude one at that. He had -specialised in genre work, and on the walls were studies -of a butcher’s shop, a fruit stall, a fish stall, a collection -of brass instruments on a table covered with a red cloth, -and a row of lean, stucco-fronted houses, each with a -euonymus hedge and an iron gate in front of it. The -carpet was a Kidderminster, red and yellow flowers on a -black ground, and the chairs were upholstered in green -plush. Every available shelf and ledge seemed to be -crowded with knick-knacks, and a stuffed pug reclined -under a glass case in the centre of a walnut chiffonier.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve understood her mother’s affection for all this -bric-à-brac, but to-night, when she came in out of the dew-washed -dusk, the room made her shudder. She wondered -what effect it would have on Canterton, though she knew -he was far too big a man to sneer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax, in black dress and white lace cap, sat in -one of the green plush arm-chairs. She was always pleased -to see people, and to chatter with amiable facility. And -Canterton could be at his best on such occasions. The -little old lady thought him “so very nice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is so good of you to come down and see Eve’s -paintings. Eve, dear, fetch your portfolio. I am so sorry -I could not come to Mrs. Canterton’s garden party, but -I have to be so very careful, because of my heart. I -get all out of breath and in a flutter so easily. Do sit -down. I think that is a comfortable chair.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton sat down, and Eve went for her portfolio.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My husband was quite an artist, Mr. Canterton, -though an amateur. These are some of his pictures.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So the gift is inherited!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think Eve draws so well as her father did. -You can see——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton got up and went round looking at John -Carfax’s pictures. They were rather extraordinary productions, -and the red meat in the butcher’s shop was the -colour of red sealing wax.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Carfax liked ‘still life.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, he was a very quiet man. So fond of a littlelararium -fishing—when he could get it. That is why he painted fish -so wonderfully. Don’t you think so, Mr. Canterton?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very probably.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve returned and found Canterton studying the row -of stucco houses with their iron gates and euonymus hedges. -She coloured.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will the lamp be right, Eve, dear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, mother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She opened her portfolio on a chair, and after arranging -the lamp-shade, proceeded to turn over sketch after sketch. -Canterton had drawn his chair to a spot where he could -see the work at its best. He said nothing, but nodded -his head from time to time, while Eve acted as show-woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax excelled herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear, how queerly you must see things. I am -sure I have never seen anything like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Which, mother?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That queer, splodgy picture. I don’t understand the -drawing. Now, if you look at one of your father’s pictures, -the butcher’s shop, for instance——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve smiled, almost tenderly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is not a picture, mother. I mean, mine. It is -just a whim.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear, how can you paint a whim?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve glanced at Canterton and saw that he was absorbed -in studying the last picture she had turned up from the -portfolio. His eyes looked more deeply set and more -intent, and he sat absolutely motionless, his head bowed -slightly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is the best classic thing I managed to do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her, nodded, and turned his eyes again -to the picture.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But even there——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is a film of mystery?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was provoking. I’m afraid I have failed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. That is Latimer. It was just what I saw and -felt myself, though I could not have put it into colour. -Show me the others again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax knitted, and Eve put up sketch after -sketch, watching Canterton’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, I like that one, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you, mother?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, but why have you made all the poplar trees -black?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are not poplars, mother, but cypresses.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I see, cypresses, the trees they grow in cemeteries.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton began to talk to Eve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is very strange that you should have seen just -what I saw.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it? But you are not disappointed?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes met hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know anybody else who could have brought -back Latimer like that. Quite wonderful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He saw her colour deepen, and her eyes soften.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax was never long out of a conversation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are they clever pictures, Mr. Canterton?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very clever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think I understand clever pictures. My -husband could paint a row of houses, and there they -were.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, that is a distinct gift. Some of us see more, -others less.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you think that if Eve perseveres she will paint as -well as her father?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton remained perfectly grave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She sees things in a different way, and it is a very -wonderful way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am so glad you think so. Eve, dear, is it not nice -to hear Mr. Canterton say that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax chattered on till Eve grew restless, and -Canterton, who felt her restlessness, rose to go. He had -come to be personal, so far as Eve’s pictures were concerned, -but he had been compelled to be impersonal for -the sake of the old lady, whose happy vacuity emptied the -room of all ideas.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was so good of you to come, Mr. Canterton.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I assure you I have enjoyed it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do wish we could persuade Mrs. Canterton to spend -an evening with us. But then, of course, she is such a -busy, clever woman, and we are such quiet, stay-at-home -people. And I have to go to bed at ten. My doctor -is such a tyrant.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope I haven’t tired you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear, no! And please give my kind remembrance -to Mrs. Canterton.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you. Good night!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton found himself in the garden with his hand -on the gate leading into the lane. The moon had -swung clear of the fir woods, and a pale, silvery horizon -glimmered above the black tops of the trees. Canterton -wandered on down the lane, paused where it joined the -high road, and stood for a while under the dense canopy -of a yew.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He felt himself in a different atmosphere, breathing a -new air, and he let himself contemplate life as it might -have appeared, had there been no obvious barriers and -limitations. For the moment he had no desire to go back -to Fernhill, to break the dream, and pick up the associations -that Fernhill suggested. The house was overrun by his -wife’s friends who had come to stay for the garden party. -Lynette would be asleep, and she alone, at Fernhill, entered -into the drama of his dreams.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Carfax and the little maid had gone to bed, -and Eve, left to herself, was turning over her Latimer -pictures and staring at them with peculiar intensity. They -suggested much more to her than the Latimer gardens, being -part of her own consciousness, and part of another’s -consciousness. Her face had a glowing pallor as she sat there, -musing, wondering, staring into impossible distances with a -mingling of exultation and unrest. Did he know what had -happened to them both? Had he realised all that had -overtaken them in the course of one short week?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The room felt close and hot, and turning down the -lamp, Eve went into the narrow hall, opened the door -noiselessly, and stepped out into the garden. Moonlight -flooded it, and the dew glistened on the grass. She -wandered down the path, looking at the moon and the -mountainous black outlines of the fir woods. And suddenly -she stopped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A man was sitting in the chair that had been left out -on the lawn. He started up, and stood bareheaded, looking -at her half guiltily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am sorry. I was just dreaming.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He hesitated, one hand on the back of the chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wanted to think——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good night!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good night!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She watched him pass through the gate and down the -lane. And everything seemed very strange and still.</p> - -<hr class='tbk112'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c14'></a>CHAPTER XIV</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>MRS. CARFAX FINISHES HER KNITTING</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a curious coincidence that Mrs. Carfax should have -come to the end of her white wool that night, put her -pins aside and left her work unfinished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the last time that Eve heard the familiar clicking -of the ivory pins, for Mrs. Carfax died quietly in her sleep, -and was found with a placid smile on her face, her white -hair neatly parted into two plaits, and her hands lying -folded on the coverlet. She had died like a child, dreaming, -and smiling in the midst of her dreams.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the moment Eve was incredulous as she bent -over the bed, for her mother’s face looked so fresh and -tranquil. Then the truth came to her, and she stood there, -shocked and inarticulate, trying to realise what had happened. -Sudden and poignant memories rose up and stung her. She -remembered that she had almost despised the little old lady -who lay there so quietly, and now, in death, she saw her -as the child, a pathetic creature who had never escaped from -a futile childishness, who had never known the greater -anguish and the greater joys of those whose souls drink -of the deep waters. A great pity swept Eve away, a -choking compassion, an inarticulate remorse. She was conscious -of sudden loneliness. All the memories of long ago, -evoked by the dead face, rose up and wounded her. She -knelt down, hid her face against the pillow, uttering in her -heart that most human cry of “Mother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton was strangely restless that morning. Up at six, -he wandered about the gardens and nurseries, and Lavender, -who came to him about some special work that had -to be done in one of the glasshouses, found him absent -and vague. The life of the day seemed in abeyance, -remaining poised at yesterday, when the moon hung over -the black ridge of the fir woods by Orchards Corner. -Daylight had come, but Canterton was still in the moonlight, -sitting in that chair on the dew-wet grass, dreaming, -to be startled again by Eve’s sudden presence. He wondered -what she had thought, whether she had suspected that he -had been imagining her his wife, Orchards Corner their -home, and he, the man, sitting there in the moonlight, -while the woman he loved let down her dark hair before -the mirror in their room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If Lavender could not wake James Canterton, breakfast -and Gertrude Canterton did. There were half a dozen -of Gertrude’s friends staying in the house, serious women -who had travelled with batches of pamphlets and earnest-minded -magazines, and who could talk sociology even at -breakfast. Canterton came in early and found Gertrude -scribbling letters at the bureau in the window. None of -her friends were down yet, and a maid was lighting the -spirit lamps under the egg-boiler and the chafing dishes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, James!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was sitting in a glare of light, and Canterton -was struck by the thinness of her neck, and the way -her chin poked forward. She had done her hair in a -hurry, and it looked streaky and meagre, and the colour -of wet sand. And this sunny morning the physical repulsion -she inspired in him came as a shock to his finer nature. -It might be ungenerous, and even shameful, but he could -not help considering her utter lack of feminine delicacy, -and the hard, gaunt outlines of her face and figure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want you to take Mrs. Grigg Batsby round the -nurseries this morning. She is such an enthusiast.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll see what time I have.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do try to find time to oblige me sometimes. I -don’t think you know how much work you make for me, -especially when you find some eccentric way of insulting -everybody at once.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you mean, Gertrude?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The maid had left the room, and Gertrude Canterton -half turned in her chair. Her shoulders were wriggling, -and she kept fidgeting with her pen, rolling it to and fro -between her thumb and forefinger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can’t you imagine what people say when you put -up wire fences, and have the gates locked on the day -of our garden party?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you think that Whiteley would hold a party in -his business premises?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, don’t be so absurd! I wonder why people come -here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I really don’t know. Certainly not to look at the -flowers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then why be so eccentrically offensive?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because there are always a certain number of enthusiastic -ladies who like to get something for nothing. I -believe it is a feminine characteristic.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Grigg Batsby came sailing into the room, gracious -as a great galleon freighted with the riches of Peru. -She was an extremely wealthy person, and her consciousness -of wealth shone like a golden lustre, a holy effulgence -that penetrated into every corner. Her money had made -her important, and filled her with a sort of after-dinner -self-satisfaction. She issued commands with playful regality, -ordered the clergy hither and thither, and had a half -humorous and half stately way of referring to any male -thing as “It.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear Mrs. Batsby, I have just asked James to -take you round this morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lady rustled and beamed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And is ‘It’ agreeable? I have always heard that -<a id='its'></a>‘Its’ time is so precious.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“James will be delighted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Obliging thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton was reserved and a little stiff.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall be ready at eleven. I can give you an hour, -Mrs. Batsby.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“‘It’ is really a humorist, Mrs. Canterton. That barbed -wire! I don’t think I ever came across anything so -delightfully original.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude frowned and screwed her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot see the humour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I think Mrs. Batsby does. I have a good many -original plants on my premises.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you wicked, witty thing! And original sin?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, it is still rather prevalent.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no queen’s progress through the Fernhill -grounds for Mrs. Grigg Batsby that morning, for by ten -o’clock her very existence had been forgotten, and she -was left reading the <span class='it'>Athenæum</span>, and wondering, with hauteur, -what had become of the treacherous “It.” Women like -Mrs. Grigg Batsby have a way of exacting as a right -what the average man would not presume to ask as a -favour. That they should happen to notice anything is in -itself a sufficient honour conferred upon the recipient, who -becomes a debtor to them in service.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton had drifted in search of Eve, had failed -to find her, and was posing himself with various questions, -when one of the under-gardeners brought him a letter. It -had taken the man twenty minutes of hide and seek to -trace Canterton’s restless wanderings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just come from Orchards Corner, sir. The young -lady brought it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Carfax?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir, the young lady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see. All right, Gibbs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton opened the letter, and stood reading it in -the shade of a row of cypresses.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear Mr. Canterton,—Mother died in the night. She -must have died in her sleep. I always knew it might -happen, but I never suspected that it would happen so -suddenly. It has numbed me, and yet made me think.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wanted you to know why I did not come to-day.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-bottom:1em;'>“<span class='sc'>Eve Carfax.</span>”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton stood stock still, his eyes staring at Eve’s -letter. He was moved, strongly moved, as all big-hearted -people must be by the sudden and capricious presence of -Death. The little white-haired, chattering figure had seemed -so much alive the night before, so far from the dark waters, -with her child’s face and busy hands. And Eve had written -to tell him the news, to warn him why she had not come -to Fernhill. This letter of hers—it asked nothing, and yet -its very muteness craved more than any words could ask. -To Canterton it was full of many subtle and intimate -messages. She wanted him to know why she had stayed -away, though she did not ask him to come to her. She -had let him know that she was stricken, and that was all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He put the letter in his pocket, forgot about Mrs. -Grigg Batsby, and started for Orchards Corner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All the blinds were down, and the little house had a -blank and puzzled look. The chair that he had used the -previous night still stood in the middle of one of the -lawns. Canterton opened and closed the gate noiselessly, -and walked up the gravel path.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve herself came to the door. He had had a feeling -that she had expected him to come to her, and when -he looked into her eyes he knew that he had not been -wrong. She was pale, and quite calm, though her eyes -looked darker and more mysterious.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you come in?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no hesitation, no formalism. Each seemed -to be obeying an inevitable impulse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton remained silent. Eve opened the door of the -drawing-room, and he followed her. She sat down on one -of the green plush chairs, and the dim light seemed part -of the silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought you might come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course I came.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He put his hat on the round table. Eve glanced round -the room at the pictures, the furniture and the ornaments.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been sitting here in this room. I came in here -because I realised what a ghastly prig I have been at times. -I wanted to be hurt—and hurt badly. Isn’t it wonderful -how death strips off one’s conceit?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He leant forward with his elbows on his knees, a -listener—one who understood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How I used to hate these things, and to sneer at -them. I called them Victorian, and felt superior. Tell -me, what right have we ever to feel superior?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are all guilty of that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Guilty of despising other colour schemes that don’t -tone with ours. I suppose each generation is more or -less colour-blind in its sympathies. Why, she was just a -child—just a child that had never grown up, and these -were her toys. Oh, I understand it now! I understood -it when I looked at her child’s face as she lay dead. The -curse of being one of the clever little people!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are not that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She lay back and covered her eyes with her hands. It -was a still grief, the grief of a pride that humbles itself -and makes no mere empty outcry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton watched her, still as a statue. But his eyes -and mouth were alive, and within him the warm blood -seemed to mount and tremble in his throat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think she was quite happy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did I do very much?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She was very proud of you in her way. I could -see that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are making things too deep, too difficult. You -say, ‘She was just a child.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her hands dropped from her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your moods passed over her and were not noticed. -Some people are not conscious of clouds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She mused.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, but that does not make me feel less guilty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It might make you feel less bitter regret.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton sat back in his chair, spreading his shoulders -and drawing in a deep breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you wired to your relatives?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They don’t exist. Father was an only son, and mother -had only one brother. He is a doctor in a colliery town, -and one of the unlucky mortals. It would puzzle him to -find the train fare. He married when he was fifty, and -has about seven children.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very well, you will let me do everything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He did not speak as a petitioner, but as a man who -was calmly claiming a most natural right.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She glanced at him, and his eyes dominated hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But—I can’t bother you——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can arrange everything. If you will tell me what -you wish—what your mother would have wished.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It will have to be very quiet. You see, we——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I understand all that. Would you like Lynette to -come and see you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, oh, yes! I should like Lynette to come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He pondered a moment, staring at the carpet with its -crude patterning of colours, and when again he began to -speak he did not raise his head to look at her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, this will make no difference to the future?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me exactly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All mother’s income dies with her. I have the -furniture, and a little money in hand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you live on here, or take rooms?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She hesitated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes rose to meet hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want you to stay. We can work together. I’m not -inventing work for you. It’s there. It has been there for -the last two or three years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke very gently, and yet some raw surface within -her was touched and hurt. Her mouth quivered with -sensitive cynicism.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A woman, when she is alone, must get money—somehow. -It is bitter bread that many of us have to eat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not mean to make it taste bitter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her mouth and eyes softened instantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You? No. You are different. And that——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And that makes it more difficult, in a way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why should it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It does.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She bent her head as though trying to hide her face -from him. He did not seem to be conscious of what -was happening, and of what might happen. His eyes -were clear and far sighted, but they missed the foreground -and its complex details.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He left his chair and came and stood by her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did I say one word about money? Well, let’s have -it out, and the dross done with. I ask you to be my -illustrator, colour expert, garden artist—call it what you -like. The work is there, more work than you can manage. -I offer you five hundred a year.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She still hid her face from him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is preposterous. But it is like you in its -generosity. But I——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Think. You and I see things as no two other -people see them. It is an age of gardens, and I am -being more and more pestered by people who want to -buy plants and ideas. Why, you and I could create some -of the finest things in colour. Think of it. You only want -a little more technical knowledge. The genius is there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She appealed to him with a gesture of the hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stop, let me think!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He walked to the window and waited.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Presently Eve spoke, and the strange softness of her -voice made him wonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, it might be possible.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you accept?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I accept.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk113'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c15'></a>CHAPTER XV</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>LYNETTE PUTS ON BLACK</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette had a little black velvet frock that had been -put away in a drawer, because it was somewhat tarnished -and out of fashion. Moreover, Lynette had grown three -or four inches since the black frock had been made, and -even a Queen of the Fairies’ legs will lengthen. Over -this dress rose a contest in which Lynette engaged both -her mother and Miss Vance, and showed some of -that tranquil and wise obstinacy that characterised her -father.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette appeared for lessons, clad in this same black -frock, and Miss Vance, being a matter-of-fact and good-naturedly -dictatorial adult, proceeded to raise objections.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette, what have you been doing?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you mean, Vancie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Vance, if you please. Who told you to put -on that dress?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I told myself to do it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then please tell yourself to go and change it. It -is not at all suitable.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But it is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear, don’t argue! You are quite two years -too old for that frock.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mary can let it out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go and change it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette had her moments of dignity, and this was an -occasion for stateliness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Vancie, don’t dare to speak to me like that! I’m -in mourning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In mourning! For whom?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Eve’s mother, of course! Miss Eve is in -mourning, and I know father puts on a black tie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear, don’t be——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Vancie, I am going to wear this frock. You’re not -a great friend of Miss Eve’s, like me. She’s the dearest -friend in the world.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The governess felt that the dress was eccentric, and -yet that Lynette had a sentimental conviction that carried -her cause through. Miss Vance happened to be in a tactless -mood, and appealed to Gertrude Canterton, and to -Gertrude the idea of Lynette going into mourning because -a certain young woman had lost her mother was whimsical -and absurd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette, go and change that dress immediately!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was then that Canterton came out in his child. She -was serenely and demurely determined.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must wear it, mother!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will do nothing of the kind. The skirt is perfectly -indecent.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your—your knees are showing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not ashamed of my knees.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette, don’t argue! Understand that I will be -obeyed. Go and change that dress!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am very sorry, mother, but I can’t. You don’t -know what great deep friends me and Miss Eve -are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Neither ridicule nor fussy attempts at intimidation had -any effect. There was something in the child’s eyes and -manner that forbade physical coercion. She was sure in her -sentiment, standing out for some ideal of sympathy that was -fine and convincing to herself. Lynette appealed to her -father, and to her father the case was carried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sided with Lynette, but not in Lynette’s hearing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What on earth is there to object to, Gertrude?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is quite absurd, the child wanting to go into -mourning because old Mrs. Carfax is dead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Children have a way of being absurd, and very -often the gods are absurd with them. The child shall have -a black frock.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude twitched her shoulders, and refused to be -responsible for Canterton’s methods.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are spoiling that child. I know it is quite -useless for me to suggest anything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are not much of a child yourself, Gertrude. I -am. That makes a difference.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton had his car out that afternoon and drove -twenty miles to Reading, with Lynette on the seat beside -him. He knew, better than any woman, what suited the -child, so Lynette had a black frock and a little Quaker -bonnet to wear for that other child, Mrs. Carfax, who -was dead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Within a week Eve was back at Fernhill, painting -masses of hollyhocks and sweet peas, with giant sunflowers -and purple-spiked buddlea for a background. Perhaps -nothing had touched her more than Lynette’s -black frock and the impulsive sympathy that had suggested -it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m so sorry, Miss Eve, dear. I do love you ever -so much more now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Eve had never been nearer tears, with Lynette -snuggling up to her, one arm round her neck, and her -warm breath on Eve’s cheek.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was holiday time, and Miss Vance’s authority was -reduced to the supervision of country walks, and the -giving of a daily piano lesson. Punch, the terrier, accompanied -them on their walks, and Miss Vance hated the -dog, feeling herself responsible for Punch’s improprieties. -Her month’s holiday began in a few days, and Lynette -had her eyes on five weeks of unblemished liberty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Vancie goes on Friday. Isn’t it grand!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you ought not to be so glad, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I am glad. Aren’t you? I can paint all day -like you, and we’ll have picnics, and make daddy take us -on the river.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, I’m glad you’ll be with me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Vancie can’t play. You see she’s so very old and -grown up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think she is much older than I am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Miss Eve, years and years! Besides, you’re so -beautiful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You wicked flatterer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not a flatterer. I’m sure daddy thinks so. I -know he does.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve felt herself flushing, and her heart misgave her, -for the lips of the child made her thrill and feel afraid. -She had accepted the new life tentatively yet recklessly, -trying to shut her eyes to the possible complexities, and to -carry things forward with a candour that could not be -questioned. She was painting the full opulence of one of -the August borders, with Lynette beside her on a stool, -Lynette who pretended to dabble in colours, but loved -to make Eve talk. It was a day without wind; all sunlight, -blue sky, and white clouds, with haze on the hills, -and somnolence everywhere. Yet Eve was haunted by the -sound of the splashing of the water in the Latimer -gardens, a seductive but restless memory that penetrated -all her thoughts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wasn’t it funny mother not wanting me to wear a -black frock?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But why should she mind?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Why, indeed? Eve found herself visualising Gertrude -Canterton’s sallow face and thin, jerky figure, and she felt -chilled and discouraged. What manner of woman was this -Gertrude Canterton, this champion of charities, this eager -egoist, this smiler of empty smiles? Had she the eyes and -ears, the jealous instincts of a woman? Did she so much -as realise that the place she called her home hid the dust -and dry bones of something that should have been sacred? -Was she, in truth, so blindly self-sufficient, so smothered -in the little vanities of little public affairs that she had -forgotten she was a wife? If so, what an impossible -woman, and what a menace to herself and others.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mother doesn’t care for flowers, Miss Eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, how do you know?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve never seen her pick any. And she can’t arrange -a vase. I’ve seen her try.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But she may be fond of them, all the same.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then why doesn’t she come out here with daddy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps she has too much to do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I never see her doing anything, like other people. -I mean mending things, and all that. She’s always going -out, or writing letters, or having headaches.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had a growing horror of letting Lynette discuss -her mother. The child was innocent enough, but it seemed -treacherous and unfair to listen, and made Eve despise -herself, and shiver with a sense of nearness to those sexual -problems that are covered with the merest crust of make-believe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, here’s Vancie!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve glanced up and saw the governess approaching -along the brick-paved path. Miss Vance was a matter-of-fact -young person, but she was a woman, with some -of the more feminine attributes a little exaggerated. She -was suburban, orthodox as to her beliefs, absolutely without -imagination, yet healthily inquisitive.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Music, Lynette! What a nice bit of colour to paint, -Miss Carfax.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quite Oriental, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These two women looked at each other, and Eve did -not miss the apprizing and critical interest in Miss Vance’s -eyes. She was a little casual towards Eve, with a casualness -that suggested tacit disapproval. The surface was hard, -the poise unsympathetic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ought to have good weather for your holiday. -Where are you going?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brighton!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Brighton!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We always go to Brighton!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A habit?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are a family of habits.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She held out a large and rather red hand to Lynette, -but Lynette was an individualist. She, too, understood -that Miss Vance was a habit, a time-table, a schedule, -anything but a playmate. They went off together, Miss -Vance with a last apprizing glance at Eve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One woman’s attitude may have a very subtle influence -on the mood of another. Most women understand each -other instinctively, perhaps through some ancient sex-language -that existed long before sounds became words. -Eve knew quite well what had been exercising Miss Vance’s -mind, that she had been handling other people’s intimacies, -calculating their significance, and their possible developments. -And Eve felt angry, rebellious, scornful, troubled. -As a woman she resented the suggestiveness of this other -woman’s curiosity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ten minutes later, when Canterton strolled into the -walled garden, he found Eve sitting idle, her hands lying -in her lap. He saw her as a slim black figure posed in -thought, with the border unfurled before her like some -rich tapestry, with threads of purple and gold upon a -ground of green.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned to him with a smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette has just gone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He did not suspect that her smile was a defence -and a screen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope the child does not interfere with your work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. She lets me be quiet when something particularly -delicate has to be done.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton brought up a garden chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will it bother you if I take Lynette’s place?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think I am a little too big for her stool.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve resumed her painting, but she soon discovered that -her attention flowed more strongly towards the man beside -her than towards the flowers in the border. The tapestry -kept blurring its outlines and shifting its colours, and she -played with the work, becoming more and more absorbed -in what Canterton was saying. And yet she was striving -all the while to keep a space clear for her own individuality, -so that her thoughts could move without merely following -his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before very long she realised that she was listening -to a thinker thinking aloud in the presence of the one -woman who understood. He was so confident, so strong, -so much above the hedgerows of circumstance, that -she began to be more afraid for his sake than for -her own. His words seemed ready to sweep her away into -a rare and intimate future. It was ideal, innocent, almost -boyish. He mapped out plans for her; talked of what -they would create; declared for a yearly show of her -pictures at Fernhill, and that her work must be made -known in London. They could take the Goethe Gallery. -Then he wanted pictures of the French and Italian gardens. -She could make a tour, sketch the Riviera, paint rhododendrons -and roses by the Italian lakes, and bring him -back studies of Swiss meadows all blue and green and white -in May or June. She had a future. He talked of it -almost with passion, as though it were something that -was very precious to his pride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve’s heart grew heavy. She began to feel a mute -pity for Canterton and for herself. Her vision became -so terribly clear and frank that she saw all that his -idealist’s eyes did not see, and felt all that he was too big -and too magnanimous to feel. He did not trouble to -understand the little world about him. Its perspective -was not his perspective, and it had no knowledge of colour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She became more and more silent, until this silence -of hers was like a pool of water without a ripple, yet -its passivity had a positive effect upon Canterton’s consciousness. -His eyes began to watch her face and to ask -questions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you see all this?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, I see it all!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was puzzled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps it does not strike you as real?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned her face away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you know that sometimes things may seem -too real?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He began to be absorbed into her silence of a minute -ago. Eve made an effort, and picked up a brush. She -guessed that something was happening in the heart of the -man beside her, and she wondered whether the cold and -conventional light of a more worldly wisdom would break -in and enable him to understand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She kept on with her work.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you think that I have been talking like a fool?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no, not that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She made herself meet his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes the really fine things are so impossible. -That’s why life may be so sad.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk114'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c16'></a>CHAPTER XVI</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>JAMES CANTERTON AWAKES</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Being an individualist, a man who had always depended -upon himself, Canterton had very little of the social -sensitiveness that looks cautiously to the right and to the -left before taking a certain path. All his grown life, from -his University days onwards, he had been dealing with big -problems, birth, growth, decay, the eternal sacrament of -sex, the beauty of earth’s flowering. His vision went deep -and far. His life had been so full of the fascination of -his work that he had never been much of a social animal, -as the social animal is understood in a country community. -He observed trifles that were stupendously significant in -the world of growth, but he had no mind for the social -trifles round him. Had he had less brawn, less virility, less -humour, it is possible that he would have been nothing -more than an erudite fool, one of those pathetic figures, -respected for its knowledge and pitied for its sappiness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton could convince men, and this was because he -had long ago become a conviction to himself. It was -not a self-conscious conviction, and that was why it had -such mastery. It never occurred to him to think about -the discretions and the formalities of life. If a thing -seemed good to do, he did it; if it seemed bad, he -never gave it a second thought. His men believed in him -with an instinctive faith that would not suffer contradiction, -and had Canterton touched tar, they would have sworn -that the tar was the better for it, and Canterton’s hands -clean. He was so big, so direct, so just, so ready to smile -and see the humour of everything. And he was as clean-minded -as his child Lynette, and no more conscious than -she was of the little meannesses and dishonourable curiosities -that make most men and nearly all women hypocrites.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton’s eyes were open; but he saw only that which -his long vision had taught him to see, and not the things -that are focused by smaller people. That an idea seemed -fine, and admirable, and good, was sufficient for him. He -had not cultivated the habit of asking himself what other -people might think. That was why such a man as Canterton -may be so dangerous to himself and to others when -he starts to do some big and unusual thing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He knew now that he loved Eve Carfax. It was -like the sudden rising of some enchanted island out of -the sea, magical yet real, nor was he a gross beast to -break down the boughs for the fruit and to crush the -flowers for their perfumes. He had the atmosphere of a -fine mind, and his scheme of values was different from -the scheme of values recognised by more ordinary men. -Perfumes, colours, beautiful outlines had spiritual and -mystical meanings. He was not Pagan and not Christian, -but a blend of all that was best in both.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To him this enchanted island had risen out of the sea, -and floated, dew-drenched, in the pure light of the dawn. -He saw no reason why he should bid so beautiful a thing -sink back again and be lost under the waters. He had no -desecrating impulses. Why should not two people look together -at life with eyes that smiled and understood? They -were harming no one, and they were transfiguring each -other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton and his wife were dining alone, and for -once he deliberately chose to talk to her of his work, -and of his future plans. Gertrude would listen perfunctorily, -but he was determined that she should listen. The -intimate part of his life did not concern her, simply -because she was no longer either in his personality or -in his work. So little sympathy was there between them -that they had never succeeded in rising to a serious quarrel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am taking Miss Carfax into the business. I thought -you might like to know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So dead was her personal pride in all that was male -in him, that she did not remember to be jealous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That ought to be a great opportunity for the girl.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall benefit as much as she will. She has a very -remarkable gift, just something I felt the need of and -could not find.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then she is quite a discovery?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton watched his wife’s face and saw no clouding -of its complacency.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She will be a very great help in many ways.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see. You will make her a kind of fashion-plate -artist to produce new designs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had thought of doing something for the girl. I -had suggested to her that she might paint miniatures.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think I shall keep her pretty busy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have only spoken to her once or twice, and she -struck me as rather reserved, and stiff. I suppose she -and Lynette——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She and Lynette get on wonderfully.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So Miss Vance told me. And, of course, that black -frock——I hope she doesn’t spoil the child.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a bit. She does her good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette wants someone with plenty of common -sense to discipline her. I think Miss Vance is really -excellent.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A very reliable young woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s not too sentimental and emotional.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had finished dessert, and Gertrude Canterton went -straight to her desk to write some of those innumerable -letters that took up such a large part of her life. Letter-writing -was one of her methods of self-expression, and -her busy audacity was never to be repelled. She wrote -to an infinite number of charitable institutions for their -literature; to authors for autograph copies of their books -to sell at bazaars; to actors for their signatures and -photographs; to cartoonists for some sketch or other on -which money might be raised for some charitable purpose; -to tradesmen for free goods, offering them her patronage -and a fine advertisement on some stall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton did not wait for coffee, but lit a pipe -and strolled out into the garden, and walking up and down -in a state of wonder, tried to make himself realise that he -and Gertrude were man and wife.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Had the conversation really taken place? Had they -exchanged those cold commonplaces, those absurd phrases -that should have meant so much? Had he known Gertrude -less well, he might have been touched by the appearance -of the limitless faith she had in him, by her blind and -serene confidence that was not capable of being disturbed. -But he knew her better than that. He was hardly so -much as a shadow in her life, and when a second shadow -appeared beside hers she did not notice it. She seemed to -have no sense of possession, no sexual pride. Her mental -poise was like some people’s idea of heaven, a place of -beautiful and boundless indifference misnamed “sacred love,” -a state that was guilty of no preferences, no passions, no -anguish, no divine despair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then there leapt in him a sudden and subtle -exultation. This splendid comradeship that life was offering -to him, what could be cried against it, what was there -that could be condemned? It touched no one but their -two selves, could hurt no one. The one woman who -might have complained was being robbed of nothing that -she desired. As for marriage, he had tried it, and saw -that it served a certain need. For five years he had -lived the life of a celibate, and the god in him was -master of the beast. He thought no such thoughts of Eve. -She was sunlight, perfumes, the green gloom of the woods, -water shining in the moonlight, all the music that was -and would be, all the fairy tales that had been told, all -the ardour of words spoken in faith. She was one whose -eyes could quench all the thirsts of his manhood. To -be with her, to be hers, was sufficient.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton was hardly conscious of the physical part of -himself, as he took a path along one of the cypress walks, -passed out by a wicket gate, and crossed the road into -the fir woods. Dusk had fallen, but there was still a -faint grey light under the trees, and there was no undergrowth, -so that one would walk along the woodland aisles -as along the aisles of a church. A feeling of exultation -possessed him. The very stillness of the woods, the darkness -that began to drown all distances, were personal and -all-enveloping.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A light was shining in one of the lower windows of -the little house at Orchards Corner when Canterton came -to the gate at the end of the lane. He paused there, -leaning his arms on the gate. The blind was up and the -curtain undrawn, and he could see Eve sitting at a table, -and bending over a book or writing a letter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton crossed the lawn and stood looking in at the -lighted window. Eve was sitting at the table with her -back towards him, and he saw the outline of her head, -and the glow of the light upon her hair. She was wearing -a blouse cut low at the throat, and he could see the -white curve of her neck as she bent over the table. There -were books and papers before her. She appeared to be -reading and making notes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke her name.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her profile came sharply against the lamplight. Then -she pushed the chair back, rose, and walked to the window. -The lower sash was up. She rested her hands on the sill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The light was behind her, and her face vague and -shadowy, but he had a feeling that she was afraid. Her -bare white forearms, with the hands resting on the window-sill, -looked hard and rigid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have I frightened you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps—a little.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wanted to talk to you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She did not answer him for the moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am all alone to-night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought you had the girl with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I let her go down to the village.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had come to her in a fog of mystical love, and -through the haze of his vision her set and human face -became the one real thing in the world. Her voice had a -wounded sound, and she spoke as from a little distance. -There was resistance here, a bleak dread of something, and -yet a desire that what was inevitable should be understood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll forgive me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I felt I must talk to you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As you talked yesterday morning?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I—I thought perhaps that you had understood.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His full consciousness of all that was in his heart -would not suffer him to feel such a thing as shame. But -a great tenderness reached out to her, because he had heard -her utter a cry of pain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have I hurt you by coming here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stared beyond him, trying to think.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We were to live like good comrades, like fellow -artists, were we not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I told you how the future offers us beautiful friendship.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She made a little impatient movement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I knew it would be difficult while you were talking. -And now you are making it impossible.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot see it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are blind—with a man’s blindness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She leant her weight on her arms, and bending slightly -towards him, spoke with peculiar gentleness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You look at the horizon, you miss the little things. -Perhaps I am more selfish and near-sighted, for your sake, -if not for my own. Jim, don’t make me say what is -hateful even to be thought.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the first time that she had called him by the -familiar name, the name sacred to his lad’s days, and to -the lips of his men friends. He stood looking up at -her, for she was a little above him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I like that word—Jim. But am I blind?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hopelessly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can it hurt either of us, this comradeship? Why, -Eve, child, how can I talk all the boyish stuff to you? -It’s bigger, finer, less selfish than all that. I believe I could -think of you as I think of Lynette—married some day -to a good fellow——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She broke in with sudden passion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, you are wrong there—utterly wrong.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Am I wrong—everywhere?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can’t you guess that it hurts terribly, all this? -It’s so impossible, and you won’t see it. Let’s get back—back -to yesterday.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, is there ever a yesterday?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She shivered and drew back a little.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jim, don’t try to come too near me. You make me -say it. You make me say the mean things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s not physical nearness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, you may think that! But you are forgetting -all the little people.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The little people! Are we to be little because they -are shorter than we are? The neighbourhood knows me -well enough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She came forward again to the window with a kind -of tender and stooping pity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jim, how very innocent you are. Yes, I know—I -know it is precious, and perilous. Listen! Supposing you -were to lose Lynette—oh, why will you make me say -the mean, hideous things?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lose Lynette! Do you mean——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jim, I am going to shut the window.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He raised an arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait! Good God!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no! Good night!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She closed the window, and dragged the curtains -across it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton stood at gaze a moment, before walking -away across the grass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was listening, stricken, yet trying not to feel afraid.</p> - -<hr class='tbk115'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c17'></a>CHAPTER XVII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>LYNETTE INTERPOSES</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>At such a parting of the ways, Canterton’s elemental -grimness showed itself. He was the peasant, sturdy, -obstinate, steady-eyed, ready to push out into some untamed -country, and to take and hold a new domain. For under -all his opulent culture and his rare knowledge lay the patient -yet fanatical soul of the peasant. He was both a mystic -and a child of the soil, not a city dweller, mercurial and -flippant, a dog at the heels of profit and loss.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had talked of the impossible, but when he took -Lynette by the hand and went down with her into the -Wilderness, Canterton could not bring himself to play the -cynic. Sitting in the bracken, and watching Lynette making -one of her fairy fires, he felt that it was Eve’s scepticism -that was impossible, and not his belief in a magnanimous -future. He was so very sure of himself that he felt -too sure of other people. His name was not a thing -to be made the sport of rumour. Men and women had -worked together before now; and did the world quarrel -with a business man because he kept a secretary or a -typist? Moreover, he believed himself to be different from -the average business man, and what might have meant -lust for one spoke of a sacrament to the other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy, why didn’t Miss Eve come yesterday?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She had work at home, Princess.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And to-day too?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It seems so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why don’t we go and see her, then?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mouth of the child had offered an inspiration. -Was it possible to look into Lynette’s eyes and be -scared by sinister suggestions? Why, it was a comradeship -of three, not of two. They were three children together, -and perhaps the youngest was the wisest of the three.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette, come here, old lady! Miss Eve thinks of -going away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Eve going away?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no, daddy, how can she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, one has only to get into a train, even if it -be a train of thought.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette was kneeling between her father’s knees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll ask her not to go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You might try it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, let’s! Let’s go down to Orchards Corner -now—at once!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had been suffering, suffering for Canterton, Lynette -and herself. She saw life so clearly now—the lights and -shadows, the sunlit spaces, the sinister glooms, the sharp, -conventional horizons. Canterton did not know how much -of the woman there was in her, how very primitive and -strong were the emotions that had risen to the surface -of her consciousness. The compact would be too perilous. -She knew in her heart of hearts that the youth in her -desired more than a spiritual dream, and she was trying -to harden herself, to build up barriers, to smother this -splendid thing, this fire of the gods.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had taken her work out into the garden, and was -striving against a sense of perfunctoriness and the conviction -that the life at Fernhill could not last. She had more than -hinted at this to Canterton, bracing herself against his arguments, -and against all the generous steadfastness of his -homage that made the renunciation harder for her to bear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now an impetuous tenderness attacked her at -white heat, a thing that came with glowing hair and -glowing mouth, and arms that clung.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette had run up the lane in front of Canterton, -and Lynette was to make Eve Carfax suffer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Miss Eve, it isn’t true, is it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What isn’t true, dear heart?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That you are going right away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve felt a thickness at the throat. All that was best -in life seemed conspiring to tempt and to betray her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I may have to go, dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But why—why, when we love you so much? Aren’t -you happy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When I am with you, yes. But there are all sorts -of things that you wouldn’t understand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, but I could!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps some day you will.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, Miss Eve, you won’t really go, will you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton came in at the white gate, and Eve’s eyes -reproached him over the glowing head of the child. “It -is ungenerous of you,” they said, “to let the child try -and persuade me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She hugged Lynette with sudden passion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to go, dear, but some big devil fairy -is telling me I shall have to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was shy of Canterton, and ready to hide behind -the child, for there was a grim purposefulness about his -idealism that made her afraid. His eyes hardly left her, -and, though they held her sacred, they would have betrayed -everything to the most disinterested of observers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought I would work at home on some of these -sketches.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Lynette and I have been making a fire in the -Wilderness. We missed you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve felt stifled. Lynette was looking up into her -face, and she was fingering the white lace collar round -the child’s neck. She knew that she must face Canterton. -It was useless to try to shirk the challenge of such a man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t it close to-day? Lynette, dear, what about -some raspberries? I’m so thirsty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where are they, Miss Eve? Aren’t they over?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, they are a late kind. You know, round behind -the house. Ask Anne for a dish.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll get a rhubarb leaf, and pick the biggest for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear heart, we’ll share them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette ran off, and they were left alone together. -Canterton had brought up a deck chair, and was looking -over some of Eve’s sketches that lay in a portfolio on -the grass. His silence tantalised her. It was a force that -had to be met and challenged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I sent Lynette away because I wanted to speak to -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laid the sketch aside and sat waiting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why did you let her come to tempt me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because I can see no real reason why you should go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes became appealing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, how blind! And you let the child rush at me, -let me feel her warm arms round my neck. It was not -fair to me, or to any of us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To me it did not seem unfair, because I do not -think that I am such a criminal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know; you are so sure of yourself. But if you -thought that the child would persuade me, you were very -much deceived. It has made me realise more than anything -else that I cannot go on with the life at Fernhill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He bent forward in his chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, I tell you from my heart that you are wrong. -I want you to be something of a mother to Lynette. I -can give the man’s touches, but my fingers are not -delicate enough to bring out all the charm. Think, now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat rigid, staring straight before her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have made up my mind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is the privilege of wise minds to change, Eve. -I want you as well as Lynette.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t make me suffer. Do you think it is easy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me show you——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no! If you try to persuade me, I shall refuse -to listen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then silence fell on both of them, for Lynette -returned with a large rhubarb leaf holding a little mountain -of red fruit.</p> - -<hr class='tbk116'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c18'></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>EVE SPEAKS OUT</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve felt very restless that evening, and with seeming illogicality -went up to her room at the old-time hour of nine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day had been close and sultry, and the bedroom -still felt hot after the hours of scorching sunlight on the -tiles. Eve drew the curtains back, and opened the casement -to its widest, for the upper windows were still fitted with -the old lead-lights. The sill was deep, nearly a foot and a -half broad, and Eve half lay and half leant upon it while -the night air streamed in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And what a night! All jet and silver; for the moon -was up over the fir woods, just as on the night when -her mother died. The stillness was the stillness of a dawn -where no birds sing. The nightingale had long been mute, -and the nightjar preferred the oak woods in the clayland -valleys. Eve’s ears could not snatch a single sound out of -that vast motionless landscape, with its black woods and -mysterious horizons.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The silence made her feel lonely, eerily lonely, like -a sensitive child lost in a wood. She remembered how -she had started awake at night sometimes, terrified by -this horror of loneliness, and crying out “Mother, mother!” -It was absurd that the grown woman should feel like -the child, and yet she found herself hungering for that -little placid figure with its boring commonplaces and amiable -soft face. What a prig she had been! She had let that -spirit of superiority grow in her, forgetting that the hands -that were always knitting those foolish woollen superfluities -had held and comforted her as a child. Now, in the white -heat of an emotional ordeal, she missed the nearness of -that commonplace affection. What a mistake it was to be -too clever; for when the heart ached, one’s cleverness stood -by like a dreary pedagogue, helpless and dumb.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The stillness! She wished those dim stars would send -down astral rain, and patter on this roof of silence. The -sound of dripping water would be welcome. Yes, and those -Latimer fountains, were they still murmuring under the -cypresses, or did not the spirit of sage economy turn off -the water-cocks and shut down the sluices? Life! It, too, -was so often a shutting down of sluices. The deep waters -had to be tamed, dammed back, kept from pouring forth -as they desired. Modern conventional life was like a canal -with its system of locks. There were no rapids, no -freshets, no impetuous cataracts. You went up, steadily, -respectably, lock by lock; you came down steadily, and perhaps -just as respectably. In between was the gliding monotony -of the long stretches between artificial banks, with either -a religious tow-rope or a puffing philosopher to draw you.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She suffered on account of the stillness and this atmosphere -of isolation, and yet the nearness of some very -human incident was as a stabbing pain compared to a dull -ache. Leaning there over the window-sill, with the moonlight -glimmering on the lozenged glass in the lattices, she -knew that she was looking towards Fernhill and all that it -represented. Lynette, the child; the great gardens, that -wide, free spacious, colour-filled life; Canterton’s comradeship, -and even more than that. The whole future quivered -on one sensitive thread. A breeze could shake it away -as a wind shakes a dewdrop from the web of a spider.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She told herself that Canterton must have realised by -now the impossible nature of the position he was asking -her to assume. If he only would go back to the yesterday -of a month ago, and let that happy, workaday life return! -But then, would she herself be content with that? She -had sipped the wine of Tristan and Isoult, and the magic -of it was in her blood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her thoughts had come to this point, when something -startled her. She had heard the latch of the gate -click. There was a man’s figure standing in the shade of a -holly that grew close to the fence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was not conscious of any fear, only of an intense -curiosity—a desire to know whether she was on the brink -of some half foreseen crisis. It might be a tramp, it -might be the man who came courting her girl Anne; but -Anne had gone to bed with a headache an hour before -Eve had come to her own room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In spite of these other possibilities, she felt prophetically -convinced that it was Canterton. She did not move away -from the window, knowing that the man, whoever he was, -must have seen the outline of her head and shoulders against -the light within. Her heart was beating faster. She could feel -it as she leant with her bosom pressing upon the window-sill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She knew Canterton the moment he moved out into the -moonlight, and, crossing the grass, came and stood under -her window. He was bareheaded, and his face, as he -looked up at her, gave her an impression of pallid and -passionate obstinacy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had to come!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She felt a flutter of exultation, but it was the exultation -of tragedy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Madman!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I am not mad. It is the sanest moment of my life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then all the rest of the world is mad. Supposing—supposing -the girl is still awake. Supposing——Oh, -there are a hundred such suppositions! You risk them, -and make me risk them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because I am so sure of myself. I take the risk -to promise you a homage that shall be inviolate. Am -I a fool? Do you think that I have no self-control—that -I shall ever cause this most spiritual thing to be -betrayed? I tell you I can live this life. I can make -it possible for you to live it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve raised herself on her elbows, and seemed to be -listening. There was the same stillness everywhere, the -stillness that had been broken by Canterton’s voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She leant out and spoke to him in an undertone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will come down. I suppose I must let you say -all that you have to say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She put out the light and felt her way out of the -room and down the stairs into the hall. Her brain felt -as clear as the sky out yonder, though the turmoil in -her heart might have been part of the darkness through -which she passed. Unlocking and unbolting the door, she -found Canterton waiting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are making me do this mad thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had not troubled to put on a hat, and her face -was white and clear and unhidden. Its air of desperate -and purposeful frankness struck him. Her eyes looked -straight at his, steadily and unflinchingly, with no subtle -glances, no cunning of the lids.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s go down to the woods. Come!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spoke as though she had taken command of the -crisis, snatched it out of his strong hands. And Canterton -obeyed her. They went down the lane in the high shadow -of the hedgerows and across the main road into the fir -woods, neither of them uttering a word.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve paused when they had gone some two hundred -yards into the woods. The canopy of boughs was a black -vaulting, with here and there a crevice where the moonlight -entered to fall in streaks and splashes upon the tree -trunks and the ground. On every side were the crowding -fir boles that blotted out the distance and obscured each -other. The woodland floor was covered deep with pine -needles, and from somewhere came the smell of bracken.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, let me hear everything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He appeared a little in awe of her, and for the moment -she was the stronger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have told you all that there is to tell. I want -you to be the bigger part of my life—the inward life that -not another soul knows.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not even Lynette?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is but a child.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve began to walk to and fro, and Canterton kept -pace with her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s be practical. Let’s be cold, and sure of things. -You want me to be a spiritual wife to you, and a spiritual -mother to Lynette?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you think you can live such a life?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know I can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was smiling, the strange, ironical, half-exultant -smile of a love that is not blind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are sure of yourself. Let me ask you a question. -Are you sure of me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her searchingly in the dim light.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, I am not vain enough to ask you whether——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whether I care?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have said it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She paused, gazing at the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is a man so much slower than a woman?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes one does not dare to think——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the woman knows without daring.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stood silently before her, full of that devout wonder -that had made him such a watcher in Nature’s world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then, surely, child——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her face and eyes flashed up to him, and her hands quivered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t call me child! Haven’t you realised that I am -a woman?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The one woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There, it is all so impossible! And you don’t -understand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke gently, almost humbly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why is it impossible? What is it that I don’t -understand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear man, must I show you everything? This -is why it is impossible.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her arms went out and were round his neck. Her -mouth was close to his. In the taking of a breath she had -kissed him, and he had returned the kiss, and his arms -were round her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jim, don’t you understand now? I care too much. -That is why it is impossible.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk117'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c19'></a>CHAPTER XIX</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>AN HOUR IN THE FIR WOODS</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The warm scent of the fir woods was about them, and a -darkness that made their very thoughts seem secret and -secure. They were the lovers of some ancient tale wandering -in an old forest of enchantments, seeing each other’s faces -pale and yearning in the dim light under the trees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve rested against Canterton’s outspread arm, her head -upon his shoulder, as they wandered to and fro between -the tall trunks of the firs. They were like ghosts gliding -side by side, for the carpet of pine needles deadened -the sound of their footsteps, and they spoke but little, -in voices that were but murmurs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a brief hour they were forgetting life and its -problems, letting self sink into self, surrendering everything -to an intimate exultation in their nearness to each -other. Sometimes they would pause, swayed by some -common impulse, and stand close together, looking into -each other’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They spoke to each other as a man and woman speak -but once or twice in the course of a lifetime.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear heart, is it possible that this is you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Am I not flesh and blood?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That you should care!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Put your hand here. Can you not feel my heart -beating?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He would slip his hand under her head, draw her face -to his, and kiss her forehead, mouth and eyes. And she -would sigh with each kiss, closing her eyes in a kind -of ecstasy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you ever dream of me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Often.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It sounds like a child’s question. Strange—I wonder -if our dreams crossed. Did you ever dream while I was -at Latimer?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nearly every night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I of you. And all through the day you were -with me. I felt you standing beside me. That’s why I -painted Latimer as I did.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton had moments of incredulity and of awe. -He would stand motionless, holding Eve’s hands, and -looking down into her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is very wonderful—very wonderful!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His man’s awe made her smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a boy you are!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Am I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I love you like that. And yet, really, you are so -strong and masterful. And I could trust you utterly, -only——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Only?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You, and not myself. Oh, if we could never wake -again!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A plaintive note came into her voice. She was beginning -to think and to remember.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, that name!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it so impossible now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She reached up and gripped his wrist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t spoil this! Oh, don’t spoil it! It will have -to last us both for a lifetime. Take me back, dear; -it is time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He felt a relaxing of her muscles as though she had -suddenly grown faint and hesitating.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, now. I ask it of you, Jim.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They began to wander back towards the road, and -sometimes a shaft of moonlight struck across their faces. -Their exultation weakened, the wings of their flight together -were fluttering back towards the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, to-morrow——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned her face to his and spoke with a whispering -vehemence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There can be no to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, dear heart!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could not bear it. Have pity on me, Jim. And -remember——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They saw the white road glimmering beyond the black -fir trunks. Eve paused. They stood for some moments -in silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say good-bye to me here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will say good night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my dearest—my dear!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He held her very close, and she felt the strength -of his great arms. The breath seemed to go out of her -body, her eyes were closed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, let me go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He released her, and she stepped back just a little -unsteadily, but trying to smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good-bye! Go back now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned, went out of the wood, and crossed the -moonlit road. It lay between them like some dim river -of the underworld. And Canterton was left standing in -the gloom of the fir woods.</p> - -<hr class='tbk118'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c20'></a>CHAPTER XX</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>NIGHT AND A CHILD</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve relocked the door of the cottage, and stood in the -darkness of the hall, trying to realise all that had happened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was like coming back out of a dream, save that -the dream remained as a compelling and fateful reality, a -power, a parting of the ways, a voice that cried “Explicit!” -Her clarity of vision returned as she stood there in -the darkness. There was only one thing to be done, -whatever anguish the doing of it might cause her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet for the moment she shrank from this renunciation, -this surrender of the things that made life desirable, this -going forth into a world of little poverties, little struggles, -little sordid anxieties. It was hard, very hard to leave this -spacious existence, this corner of the earth where beauty -counted, and where she had been so happy in her work. -Why had he made it so hard for her? And yet, though -she was in pain, her heart could not utter any accusation -against him. He had misunderstood her, and she had had -to ruin everything by showing him the truth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This part of her life was ended, done with; and Eve -repeated the words to herself as she felt her way up the -stairs and into her room. She lit the candle and stood -looking about her. How cold and small and matter-of-fact -the place seemed. The whole atmosphere had changed, and -the room no longer felt like hers. The bedclothes were -neatly turned back, but she knew that she would never -sleep in that bed again. It was absurd—the very idea of -sleep, when to-morrow——</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat on the bed awhile, thinking, forcing herself -to make those plans that shape themselves like hot metal -poured into a mould. A hunger for physical activity -seized her. She might falter or break down if she did -too much thinking. Feeling under the bed, she dragged -out a light leather valise, and opening it began to tumble -out a collection of tissue paper, odd pieces of dress material, -ribbons and scraps of lace. The very first thing she saw -when she went to open the hanging cupboard was the -big straw sun-hat she had worn at Latimer and Fernhill. -That inanimate thing, hanging there, sent a shock of pain -through her. She felt things as a sensitive child feels -them, and sorrow was more than a mere vague regret.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Presently the valise was packed, and her more personal -trifles collected into a handbag. She began to open all the -drawers and cupboards, to sort her clothes and lay them -on the bed. Once or twice she went downstairs to fetch -books or something she specially needed, pausing outside -the maid’s door to listen, but the girl was fast asleep. -Eve sorted out all her Fernhill and Latimer studies, tied -them up in brown paper, and addressed them to Canterton. -Her portfolios, paint boxes, and a few odd canvases she -packed into a stout parcel, labelled them, and carried -them up to her room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, as to money. Eve kept it locked in a little -drawer in a cabinet that stood in a corner of her bedroom, -and though she went to count it, she knew what was -there, almost to the last penny. Seventeen pounds, thirteen -shillings and ninepence. There were a pass and cheque-book -also, for she had a hundred pounds in a bank at -Reading, Canterton having paid her the first instalment -of her salary. Eve felt loath to consent to thinking of the -money as her own. Perhaps she would return it to him, -or keep it untouched, a sentimental legacy left her by -this memorable summer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was one in the morning when she lit a fresh candle -and went down into the dining-room to write letters. The -first was to a local house-agent and auctioneer, stating -that she was leaving Basingford unexpectedly, and that the -maid would deposit the keys of Orchards Corner at his -office, and desiring him to arrange for a sale of all her -furniture. The next letter was to Anne, the maid. Eve -enclosed a month’s wages and an odd sum for current -expenses, and asked her to pack two trunks and have them -taken to the station and sent to the luggage office at -Waterloo. Eve drew out a list of the things that were -to be packed. Everything else was to be disposed of at -the sale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then came the letter to James Canterton.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am taking the only course that seems open -to me, and believe me when I say that it is best for -us both.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am leaving you the Latimer pictures, and all the -studies I made at Fernhill. You will find them here, on -the table, wrapped up and addressed to you.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am giving Mr. Hanstead orders to sell all the -furniture.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is probable that I shall try to make some sort -of career for myself in London.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps I will write to you, when my new life is -settled. Don’t try to see me. I ask you, from my heart, -not to do that.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Kiss Lynette, and make her think the best you can.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am sealing this and leaving it here for you with -the pictures.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-bottom:1em;'>“<span class='sc'>Eve.</span>”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A great restlessness came upon her when she had completed -all these preparations, and she felt a desire to rush -out and end the last decisive phase of her life at Fernhill. -She hunted up a local time-table, and found that the first -train left Basingford at half-past six in the morning. The -earliness of the hour pleased her. The valise and bag were -not very heavy, and she could walk the two miles to the -station before the Basingford people were stirring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then a new fear came upon her, the fear that Canterton -might still be near, or that he would return. A book that -she picked up could not hold her attention, and the old -bent cane rocking-chair that she had used so often when she -was feeling like a grown child, made her still more restless. -She went over the house, reconsidering everything, the -clothes laid out on the bed, the furniture she was to -leave, and whether it would be worth her while to warehouse -the rather ancient walnut-cased piano, with its fretwork -and magenta-coloured satin front. She wrote labels, -even started an inventory, but abandoned it as soon as she -entered her mother’s room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The watch on her dressing-table told her that it was -five-and-twenty minutes to four. Dawn would be with her -before long, and the thought of the dawn made the little -house seem dead and oppressive. She put on a pair of stout -shoes, and, letting herself out into the garden, made her -way to the orchard at the back of the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It had grown very dark before the dawn, and the crooked -apple trees were black outlines against an obscure sky. They -made her think of bent, decrepit, sad old men. The grass -had been scythed a month ago, and the young growth -was wet with dew. Everything was deathly still. Not a -leaf moved on the trees. It was like a world of the dead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She walked up and down for a long while before a -vague greyness began to spread along the eastern horizon. -A bird twittered. The foliage of the trees changed from -black to an intense greyish blue. The fruit became visible—touches -of gold, and maroon, and green. Eve could see -the dew on the grass, the rust colour of the tiles on the -roof, the white frames of the windows. A rabbit bolted -across the orchard, and disappeared through the farther -hedge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stood watching, wondering, and her wonder went -out to the man who had caused her to suffer this pain. -How had the night gone with him? What was he doing? -Had he slept? Was he suffering? And then the first flush -of rose came into the pearl grey east. Great rays of light -followed, diverging, making the clouds a chaos of purple -and white. Presently Eve saw the sun appear, a glare of -gold above the fir woods.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She returned to the house, put on her hat and coat, -made sure that she had her watch and purse, and carried -her bag and her valise downstairs. She would leave Orchards -Corner at half-past five, and there was time for a meal -before she went. The girl had left dry wood ready on -the kitchen stove. Eve boiled the kettle, made tea, and -ate her breakfast at the kitchen table, listening all the -while for any sound of the girl moving overhead. But -the silence of the night still held. No one was to see -her leave Orchards Corner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had wondered whether James Canterton was suffering. -It is not given to many of us to feel acutely, or to travel -beyond the shallows of an emotional self-pity, but Canterton -had much of the spirit of the Elizabethans—men built for -a big, adventurous, passionate play. He had slept no more -than Eve had done, and had spent most of the night -walking in the woods and lanes and over the wastes of -heather and furze. He, too, was trying to realise that -this experience was at an end, that a burning truth had -been shown him—that they had flown too near the sun, -and the heat had scorched their wings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet his mood was one of rebellion. He was asking -why and wherefore, thrusting that masterful creativeness -of his against the conventional barriers that the woman had -refused to challenge. For the first time his vitality was -running in complete and tumultuous opposition to the conventional -currents that had hardly been noticed by him -till his will was defied. The scorn of theory was upon -him, and he felt the strong man’s desire to brush the -seeming artificiality aside. Had he not made self-restraint -his own law, and was he to herd with men who put -their signatures openly to the sexual compact, and broke -their vows in secret?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was afraid, not only for herself, but for him and -for Lynette. But, good God! had he ever intended to -force her to sacrifice herself, to defy society, or to enter -into a conspiracy of passion? Was it everything or nothing -with such a woman? If so, she had shown a touching -magnanimity and wisdom, and uttered a cry that was -heroic. But he could not believe it; her pleading that -this love of theirs was mad and impossible. It was too -pathetic, her confessing that she could not trust herself. -He was strong enough to be trusted for them both. The -night had made everything more sacred. He would refuse -to let her sacrifice their comradeship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton, too, saw the dawn come up, and the sun -appear as a great splash of gold. He was standing on the -south-east edge of the Wilderness, with the gloom of the -larch wood behind him, and as the sun rose, its level -rays struck on the stream in the valley, and the deep -pool among the willows where the water lay as black and -as still as glass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A clear head and a clean body. The whim that seized -him had logic and symbolism. He walked down over the -wet grass to the pool among the willows, where a punt -lay moored to a landing stage, and a diving board projected -over the water. Canterton stripped and plunged, and went -lashing round and round the pool, feeling a clean vigour -in his body, as his heart and blood answered the cold -sting of the water.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was half-past six when he made his way back -up the hill to the gardens. A glorious day had come, -and the dew still sparkled on the flowers. Wandering -across the lawns he saw an auburn head at an open -window, and a small hand waving a towel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy, I’m coming—I’m coming!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked up at her like a man who had been praying, -and whose eyes saw a sign in the heavens.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo! Up with the lark!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s go down to the Wilderness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come along, Queen Mab.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve only got to put my frock on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re just the very thing I want.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk119'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c21'></a>CHAPTER XXI</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE WOMAN’S EYES IN THE EYES OF A CHILD</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette asked her father to tell her a story. They were -walking through the wet bracken on the edge of the larch -wood, Canterton holding the child’s hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Presently, little Beech Leaf. A good fairy is talking -to me, and I must listen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I’ll keep ever so quiet till she’s done.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton had looked into the eyes of the child, and -had seen the woman’s eyes, Eve’s eyes, in the child’s. -For Eve’s eyes had been like the eyes of Lynette, till -he, the man, had awakened a more primitive knowledge -in them. He remembered how it had been said that the -child is a finer, purer creation than either the man or the -woman, and that the sex spirit is a sullying influence, blurring -the more delicate colours; and Eve had had much of the -child in her till he, in all innocence, had taught her to -suffer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great pity overtook him as he looked down at -Lynette, and wondered how he would feel if some blind -idealist were ever to make her suffer. His pity showed -him what love had failed to discover. He understood of a -sudden how blind, how obstinate, and over-confident he -must have seemed to Eve. He had killed all the child -in her, and aroused the woman, and then refused to see -that she had changed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been torturing her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His compassion was touched with shame.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are making it so impossible.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That cry of hers had a new pathos. It was she who -had suffered, because she had seen things clearly, while -he had been too masterful, too sure of himself, too -oblivious of her youth. One could not put the language -of Summer into the mouth of Spring. It was but part -of the miracle of growth that he had been studying all -these years. Certain and inevitable changes had to occur -when the sun climbed higher and the sap rose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton paused while they were in the thick of the -larch wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette, old lady!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, daddy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The fairy has just said that we ought to go and -see Miss Eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a sensible fairy. Yes, do let’s go. She may -let me see her do her hair.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton smiled. He meant to carry Lynette on his -shoulders into the garden of Orchards Corner, to hold -her up as a symbol and a sign, to betray in the child -his surrender. Assuredly it was possible for them to be -healed. He would say, “Let’s go back into yesterday. -Try and forgive me for being blind. We will be big -children together, you and I, with Lynette.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some warning voice seemed to speak to him as -they entered the lane, questioning this plan of his, throwing -out a vague hint of unexpected happenings. He heard -Eve saying good-bye over yonder among the fir trees. -She had refused to say good night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He set Lynette down under the hedge, and spoke -in a whisper.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll play at hide and seek. I’ll go on and see if -I can find her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. I’ll hide, and jump out when you bring her -into the lane, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He wondered what sort of night Eve had spent, and -his eyes were instinctively towards her window as he -walked up the path to the house. His ring was answered -almost immediately. The little, bunchy-figured maid stood -there, looking sulky and bewildered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is Miss Carfax in?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girl’s eyes stared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, she ain’t. She’s gone to London, and ain’t -coming back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When did she go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Must have been this morning before I was up. -She’d ’ad ’er breakfast, and written me a letter. She’s -left everything to me, and I don’t know which way to -turn. There’s luggage to be packed and sent off to -London, and the house to be cleaned, and the keys to -be taken to Mr. Hanstead’s. I’m fair bothered, sir. I -ain’t going to sleep ’ere alone, and my ’ome’s at -Croydon. Maybe my young man’s mother will take -me in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If not some of my people can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Carfax left a letter for you, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me have it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girl went into the dining-room, and Canterton -followed her. The letter was lying on the parcel that -contained the Latimer and Fernhill pictures. He went to -the window, broke the seal, and read Eve’s letter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girl watched him, and he was conscious of her -inquisitive eyes. But his face betrayed nothing, and he -acted as though there were nothing wonderful about this -sudden flight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Carfax did not tell you that she was expecting -the offer of work in London?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see. She has been sent for rather hurriedly. A -very fine situation I believe. You had better follow out -her orders. This parcel is for me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took it under his arm, went to the front door, -and called Lynette.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No hide and seek this morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He wanted the girl to see Lynette, but he did not -want Lynette to hear the news.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t she in?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton met her as she came up the path.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not at home, Princess, and Anne’s as busy as can -be, and I’ve got this parcel to carry back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s in it, daddy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pictures.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And he felt that he carried all the past in those -pictures.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette wondered why he walked so fast, and why -his face looked so quiet and funny. She had to bustle -her slim legs to keep up with him, and he had nothing -whatever to say.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a hurry you’re in, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have just remembered I’ve got to go down to -the village before breakfast. And, by George! here’s something -I have forgotten to give to Lavender. Will you -take it, old lady, while I go down to the village?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, daddy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He gave her an envelope he had in his pocket. It -contained nothing but some seeds he had taken from a -plant a few days ago, but the ruse served.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton left the parcel of pictures at one of the -lodges. It took him just twenty minutes to reach -Basingford station, for he had to walk through the village -after taking some of the field paths at a run. A solitary -milk cart stood in the station yard, and a clattering of -cans came from the up platform. Canterton entered the -booking office, glanced into the waiting-room, and strolled -through to the up platform. There was no Eve. The -place was deserted, save for a porter and the driver of -the milk cart, who were loading empty cans on to a truck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton remembered that he had a freight bill in -his pocket, and that he owed the railway company three -pounds and some odd silver. He called the porter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gates!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man came at once, touching his cap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is the goods office open?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have a bill I owe them. Anyone there to take -the money?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’ll be ready for that, Mr. Canterton.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, by the way, Gates, did Miss Carfax catch her -train all right? I mean the early one?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The lady from Orchards Corner, sir?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. You know Miss Carfax.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To be sure. She was earlier than me, sir, and down -here before I got the booking office swept out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s good. I’m glad she caught it. Good morning, -Gates.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good morning, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Canterton walked across to the goods office, he -found himself confessing to a bitter and helpless sense of -defeat. He had made this woman suffer, and it seemed -out of his power now even to humble himself before her. -She had fled out of his life, and appealed to him not to -follow her—not to try and see her. It was better for -them both, she had said, to try and forget, but he knew -in his heart of hearts that it would never be forgotten.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:1.5em;font-weight:bold;'>PART II</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='c22'></a>CHAPTER XXII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>BOSNIA ROAD</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is a suggestive thought that the characteristic effects of -our execrable climate have nowhere shown themselves more -forcibly than in the atmosphere of the London suburbs. -That these suburbs are in some subtle respects the results -of our melancholy grey skies no one can doubt. Even -the raw red terraces scattered among the dingier and -more chastened rows of depressed houses, betray a futile -and rather boisterous attempt to introduce a butcher-boy -cheerfulness into a world of smuts and rain. The older, -sadder houses have taken the tint of their surroundings. -They have been poised all these years between the moil and -fog of the city, and a countryside that was never theirs, -a countryside that is often pictured as wrapped in eternal -June, but which for nine months out of the twelve -knows grey gloom, mud, and rain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their activities alone must have given the modern -English such cheerfulness as they possess, while the climate -has made them a nation of grumblers. Perhaps the Industrial -Revolution saved us from our weather.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Coal and power came and gave us something to do. -For what has been the history of England, but the watering -of the blood of those who came to dwell in her. It is -not necessary to thank the Roman rule for the decadence -of the Britons, when their Saxon conquerors in turn sank -into sodden, boorish ignorance. The Normans brought red -blood and wine to the grey island, but by the fifteenth -century the blend had become coarse, cruel, and poor. -With the Elizabethans, half the world rushed into new -adventure and romance, and England revived. But once -again the grey island damped down the ardour, the -enthusiasms and the energies of the people. During the -first half of the eighteenth century, the population was -stagnant, the country poor, coarse and apathetic. Then -King Coal arose, and lit a fire for us, and a few great -men were born. We found big things to do, and were -renewed, in spite of our climate. Yet the question suggests -itself, will these subtle atmospheric influences reassert themselves -and damp us down once more in the centuries that -are to come?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve Carfax had elected to live in a London suburb, and -had chosen Highbury, perhaps because of childish recollections -of pleasant half holidays spent there with a friend -of her mother’s, afternoons when muffins and fancy cakes -had made bread and butter superfluous, and a jolly old -lady had discovered occasional half-crowns in her purse. -Eve had taken two rooms in a little red house in Bosnia -Road. Why it should have been called Bosnia Road she -could not imagine. Each house had a front door with -stained glass and a brass letter box, a tiny strip of front -garden faced with a low brick wall topped by an iron -railing, an iron gate, and a red tiled path. All the houses -looked exactly alike. Most of them had a big china -bowl or fern pot on a table or pedestal in the window -of the ground floor room. There was no originality either -in the texture or the draping of the curtains. None of -the houses in Bosnia Road had any of that sense of -humour possessed by the houses in a village street. There -were no jocular leerings, no rollicking leanings up against -a neighbour, no expressive and whimsical faces. They were -all decently alike, respectably uniform, staring at each other -across the road, and never moved to laughter by the -absurd discovery that the architect had unconsciously perpetrated -a cynical lampoon upon the suburban middle classes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When one is fighting for the bare necessities of life, -one is not conscious of monotony. For Eve, as an adventuress, -it had been a question of gaining a foothold and a -grip on a ledge with her fingers, and her energies had -been concentrated on hanging to the vantage she had gained. -She had had good luck, and the good luck had been due -to Kate Duveen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate Duveen was an old friend, and Eve had hunted -her out in her Bloomsbury lodgings on the third day of -her coming to London. They had been at school together -before the Carfaxes had taken a cottage in Surrey. Kate -Duveen was a brown, lean, straight-backed young woman, -with rather marked eyebrows, firm lips, and shrewd eyes. -She was a worker, had always been a worker, and though -more than one man had wanted to marry her, she had no -desire either for marriage or for children. She was a -comrade rather than a woman. There was no colour either -in her face or in her dress, and her one beauty was her -hair. She had a decisive, unsentimental way with her, -read a great deal, attended, when possible, every lecture -given by Bernard Shaw, and managed to earn about -two hundred pounds a year.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was Kate Duveen who had introduced Eve into -Miss Champion’s establishment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Champion’s profession was somewhat peculiar, -though not unique. Her offices were in a turning off -Oxford Street, and were situated on the first floor. She -was a kind of universal provider, in the sense that she -supplied by means of her female staff, the various needs -of a cultured and busy public. She equipped men of affairs -and politicians with secretaries and expert typists. There -were young women who could undertake mechanical drawing -or architects’ plans, illustrate books, copy old maps and -drawings, undertake research work in the British Museum, -design fashion plates, supervise entertainments, act as mistress -of the revels at hydros and hotels. Miss Champion had -made a success of the venture, partly because she was an -excellent business woman, and partly because of her personality. -Snow-white hair, a fresh face, a fine figure. These -points had helped. She was very debonair, yet very British, -and mingled an aristocratic scent of lavender with a suggestion -of lawn sleeves. Her offices had no commercial -smell. Her patrons were mostly dilettanti people with -good incomes, and a particular hobby, authorship, public -affairs, china, charities. Miss Champion had some imagination, -and the wisdom of a “Foresight.” Good form was -held sacred. She was very particular as to that old-fashioned -word “deportment.” Her gentlewomen had to -be gentlewomen, calm, discreet, unemotional, neat looking -lay figures, with good brains and clever hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate Duveen had introduced Eve to Miss Champion, -and Miss Champion happened to have a vacancy that -Eve could fill. A patron was writing a book on mediæval -hunting, and wanted old pictures and woodcuts copied. -Another patron was busy with a colour-book called “Ideal -Gardens,” and was asking for fancy plates with plenty -of atmosphere. There was some hack research work going -begging, and designs for magazine covers to be submitted -to one or two art editors, and Eve was lucky enough -to find herself earning her living before she had been two -weeks in town.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day’s routine did not vary greatly. She breakfasted -at a quarter to eight, and if the weather was fine -she walked a part or even the whole of the way to -Miss Champion’s, following Upper Street and Pentonville -Road, and so through Bloomsbury, where she picked up -Kate Duveen. If it was wet she trammed, but she -detested the crush for a seat, being a sensitive individualist -with a hatred of crowds, however small. Some days she -spent most of her time in the Museum reading-room, -making notes and drawings which she elaborated afterwards -at her desk at Miss Champion’s. If she had nothing but -illustrating to do or plates to paint she spent all the -day at the office. They were given an hour for lunch, -and Eve and Kate Duveen lunched together, getting some -variety by patronising Lyons, the Aerated Bread Company, -and the Express Dairy in turn. After these very light -lunches, and much more solid conversations, came four or -five hours more work, with half an hour’s interval for tea. -Eve reached Bosnia Road about half past six, often glad -to walk the whole way back after the long sedentary hours. -At seven she had meat tea, the meat being represented -by an egg, or three sardines, or two slices of the very -smallest tongue that was sold. Her landlady was genteel, -florid, and affable, with that honeyed affability that is -one of the surest signs of the humbug. She was a widow, -and the possessor of a small pension. Her one child, a -gawk of a youth, who was an under-clerk somewhere in -the City, had nothing to recommend him. He was a -ripening “nut,” and advertised the fact by wearing an -enormous collar, a green plush Homburg hat, a grey suit, -and brown boots on the Sabbath. Some time ago he had -bought a banjo, but when Eve came to Bosnia Road, -his vamping was as discordant and stuttering as it could -be. He had a voice, and a conviction that he was a -comedian, and he could be heard exclaiming, “Put me -among the Girls,” a song that always moved Eve to an -angry disgust. Now and again he met her on the stairs, -but any egregious oglings on his part were blighted before -they were born.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s a suffragette! I know ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was what he said to his mother. Had he been put -among such girls, his little, vain Georgy Porgy of a soul -would have been mute and awed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve’s evenings were very lonely. Sometimes Kate -Duveen came up from Bloomsbury, but she was a busy -woman, and worked and read most nights. If it was fine, -Eve went out and walked, wandering round outside Highbury -Fields, or down the quiet Canonbury streets, or -along Upper Street or Holloway Road. It was very dismal, -and these walks made her feel even more lonely than -the evenings spent in her room. It seemed such a drifting, -solitary existence. Who cared? To whom did it matter -whether she went out or stayed at home? As for her -sitting-room, she could not get used to the cheap red -plush suite, the sentimental pictures, the green and yellow -carpet, the disastrous ornaments, the pink and green tiles -in the grate. Her own workaday belongings made it a -little more habitable, but she felt like Iolanthe in a retired -licensed victualler’s parlour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The nights when Kate Duveen came up from Bloomsbury -were full of intelligent relief. They talked, argued, compared -ambitions and ideals, and trusted each other with -intimate confessions. Several weeks passed before Eve gave -Kate Duveen some account of that summer at Fernhill, -and Kate Duveen looked stiff and hard over it, and showed -Canterton no mercy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It always seems to be a married man!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was up in arms on the other side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He was different.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, I know!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Kate, I hate you when you talk like this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hate me as much as you like, my dear, you will -see with my eyes some day. I have no patience with -men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve softened her passionate partisanship, and tried to -make her friend understand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Till one has gone through it one does not know -what it means. After all, we can’t stamp out Nature, -and all that is beautiful in Nature. I, for one, don’t want -to. It may have made me suffer. It was worth it, just -to be loved by that child.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Children are not much better than little savages. -Don’t dream sentimental dreams about children. I remember -what a little beast I was.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There will always be some part of me that you -won’t understand, Kate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps. I’ve no patience with men—selfish, sexual -fools. Let’s talk about work.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk120'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c23'></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>LIFE AND LETTERS</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Saturday afternoons and Sundays gave the pause in Eve’s -week of scribbling and reading, and drawing at desk and -table. She was infinitely glad of the leisure when it came, -only to discover that it often brought a retrospective -sadness that could not be conjured away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sometimes she went to a matinée or a concert on -Saturday afternoon, alternating these breaks with afternoons -of hard work. For the Fernhill days, with their -subsequent pain and restlessness had left her with a definite -ambition. She regarded her present life as a means to an -end. She did not intend to be always a scribbler of -extracts and a copier of old woodcuts, but had visions -of her own art spreading its wings and lifting her out -of the crowd. She tried to paint on Sundays, struggling -with the atmosphere of Bosnia Road, and attempting to -make use of the north light in her back bedroom, while -she enlarged and elaborated some of the rough sketches -in her sketch book. Her surroundings were trite and dreary -enough, but youth and ardour are marvellous torch-bearers, -and many a fine thing has been conceived and carried -through in a London lodging-house. She had plans for -hiring a little studio somewhere, or even of persuading -Mrs. Buss, her landlady, to let her have a makeshift -shed put up in the useless patch of back garden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she looked back on the Fernhill days, they -seemed to her very strange and wonderful, covered with a -bloom of mystery, touched with miraculous sunlight. She -hoped that they would help her to do big work. The -memories were in her blood, she was the richer for them, -even though she had suffered and still suffered. Now that -she was in London the summer seemed more beautiful -than it had been, nor did she remind herself that it had -happened to be one of those rare fine summers that appear -occasionally just to make the average summer seem more -paltry. When she had received a cheque for some eighty -pounds, representing the sum her furniture had brought -her after the payment of all expenses, she had written -to Canterton and returned him the hundred pounds he had -paid her, pleading that it irked her memories of their comradeship. -She had given Kate Duveen’s address, after asking -her friend’s consent, and in her letter she had written -cheerfully and bravely, desiring Canterton to remember -their days together, but not to attempt to see her.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will be kind, and not come into this new life -of mine. I am not ashamed to say that I have suffered, -but that I have nothing to regret. Since I am alone, it -is best that I should be alone. You will understand. -When the pain has died down, one does not want old -wounds reopened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think daily of Lynette. Kiss her for me. Some -day it may be possible for me to see her again.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Three weeks passed before Kate Duveen handed Eve -a letter as they crossed Russell Square in the direction -of Tottenham Court Road. It was a raw, misty morning, -and the plane trees, with their black boles and boughs, -looked sombre and melancholy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This came for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She saw the colour rise in Eve’s face, and the light -that kindled deep down in her eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not cured yet!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have I asked to be cured?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve read Canterton’s letter at her desk at Miss -Champion’s. It was a longish letter, and as she read it -she seemed to hear him talking in the fir woods below -Orchards Corner.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Eve</span>,—I write to you as a man who has been -humbled, and who has had to bear the bitterness of not -being able to make amends.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I came to see things with your eyes, quite suddenly, -the very morning that you went away. I took Lynette -with me to Orchards Corner, to show her as a symbol -of my surrender. But you had gone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was humbled. And the silence that shut me in -humbled me still more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not try to discover things, though that might -have been easy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As to your leaving Fernhill so suddenly, I managed -to smother all comment upon that.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You had been offered, unexpectedly, a very good post -in London, and your mother’s death had made you feel -restless at Orchards Corner. That was what I said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette talks of you very often. It is, ‘When will -Miss Eve come down to see us?’ ‘Won’t she spend her -holidays here?’ ‘Won’t you take me to London, daddy, -to see Miss Eve?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As for this money that you have returned to me, -I have put it aside and added a sum to it for a certain -purpose that has taken my fancy. I let you return it to -me, because I have some understanding of your pride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad, deeply glad, that good luck has come to -you. If I can serve you at any time and in any way, -you can count on me to the last breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am a different man, in some respects, from the -man I was three months ago. Try to realise that. Try -to realise what it suggests.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you realise it, will you let me see you now and -again, just as a comrade and a friend?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say yes or no.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-bottom:1em;'>“<span class='sc'>James Canterton.</span>”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was bemused all day, her eyes looking through -her work into infinite distances. She avoided Kate -Duveen, whose unsentimental directness would have hurt -her, lunched by herself, and walked home alone to Bosnia -Road. She sat staring at the fire most of the evening -before she wrote to Canterton.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your letter has made me both sad and happy, Jim. -Don’t feel humbled on my account. The humiliation should -be mine, because neither the world nor I could match -your magnanimity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes my heart is very hungry for sight of -Lynette.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I am working hard. It is better that I should -say ‘No.’</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-bottom:1em;'>“<span class='sc'>Eve.</span>”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Four days passed before Kate handed her another letter.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps you are right, and I am wrong. If it is -your wish that I should not see you, I bow to it with -all reverence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do not think that I do not understand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Some day, perhaps, you will come to see Lynette. Or -I could bring her up to town and leave her at your -friend’s for you to find her. I promise to lay no ambuscades. -When you have gone I can call for her again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should love her better because she had been -near you.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate Duveen was hard at work one evening, struggling, -with the help of a dictionary, through a tough book on -German philosophy, when the maid knocked at her door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it, Polly?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girl’s name was Ermentrude, but Kate persisted -in calling her Polly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a gentleman downstairs, miss. ’E’s sent up -’is card. ’E wondered whether you’d see ’im.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate glanced at the card and read, “James Canterton.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She hesitated a moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I will see him. Ask him up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her hard, workaday self had risen as to a challenge. -She felt an almost fierce eagerness to meet this man, to -give him battle, and rout him with her truth-telling and -sarcastic tongue. Canterton, as she imagined him, stood for -all the old man-made sexual conveniences, and the social -makeshift that she hated. He was the big, prejudiced male, -grudging a corner of the working world to women, but -ready enough to make use of them when his passions or -his sentiments were stirred.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he came into the room she did not rise from the -table, but remained sitting there with her books before her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Duveen?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. Will you shut the door and sit down?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spoke with a rigid asperity, and he obeyed her, -but without any sign of embarrassment or nervousness. -There was just a subtle something that made her look -at him more intently, more interestedly, as though he -was not the sort of man she had expected to see.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is Mr. Canterton of Fernhill, is it not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was merciless enough to sit there in silence, with -her rigid, watchful face, waiting for him to break the frost. -Her mood had passed suddenly beyond mere prejudice. She -felt the fighting spirit in her piqued by a suspicion that -she was dealing with no ordinary man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sat in one of her arm-chairs, facing her, and -meeting her eyes with perfect candour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am wondering whether I must explain——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your call, and its object?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think it is necessary. I think I know why -you have come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So much the better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She caught him up as though he were assuming her -to be a possible accomplice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I may as well tell you that you will get nothing -out of me. She does not live here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps you will tell me what you imagine my object -to be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You want Eve Carfax’s address.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the first time she saw that she had stung him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I can assure you you are wrong. I have no -intention of asking for it. It is a point of honour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She repeated the words slowly, and in a quiet and -ironical voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A point of honour!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She became conscious of his smile, a smile that began -deep down in his eyes. It angered her a little, because -it suggested that his man’s knowledge was deeper, wiser, -and kinder than hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I take it, Miss Duveen, that you are Eve’s very -good friend.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is exactly why I have come to you. Understand -me, Eve is not to know that I have been -here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you. Please dictate what you please.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will. I want you to tell me just how she is—if -she is in really bearable surroundings?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate’s eyes studied him over her books. Here was -something more vital than German philosophy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton, I ought to tell you that I know a -little of what has happened this summer. Not that Eve is -a babbler——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad that you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Really. I should not have thought that you would -be glad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am. Will you answer my question?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And may I ask what claim you have to be told -anything about Eve?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He answered her quietly, “I have no right at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A smile, very like a glimmer of approval, flickered in -her eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You recognise that. Wasn’t it rather a pity——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Duveen, I have not come here to justify anything. -I wanted a fine, working comradeship, and Eve -showed me, that for a particular reason, it was impossible. -Till I met her there was nothing on earth so dear to -me as my child, Lynette. When Eve came into my life -she shared it with the child. Is it monstrous or impertinent -that I should desire to know whether she is in the way -of being happy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate saw in him a man different from the common -crowd of men, and Eve’s defence of him recurred to her. -His frankness was the frankness of strength. His bronzed -head, with its blue eyes and generous mouth began to take -on a new dignity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton, I am not an admirer of men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You should have studied flowers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you. I will answer your question. Eve is -earning a living. It is not luxury, but it is better than -most women workers can boast of. She works hard. And -she has ambitions.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He answered at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad of that. Ambition—the drive of life, is -everything. You have given me good news.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate Duveen sat in thought a moment, staring at -the pages of German philosophy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Canterton, I’m interested. I am going to be -intrusive. Is it possible for a man to be impersonal?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and no. It depends upon the plane to which -one has climbed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You could be impersonally kind to Eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think that I told you that I am very fond of -my youngster, Lynette. That is personal and yet impersonal. -It is not of the flesh.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She nodded her head, and he rose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will ask you to promise me two things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are they?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That if Eve should wish to see Lynette, I may -leave the child here, and call for her again after Eve -has gone?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate considered the point.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, that’s sensible enough. I can see no harm in it. -And the other thing?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That if Eve should be in trouble at any time, you -will promise to let me know?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked at him sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait! It flashed across your mind that I am waiting -for my opportunity? You are descending to the level -of the ordinary man whom you despise. I asked this, -because I should want to help her without her knowing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate Duveen stood up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You scored a hit there. Yes, I’ll promise that. -Of course, Eve will never know you have been here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I rely on you there. Men are apt to forget that -women have pride.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She held out a hand to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s my pledge. I can assure you that I had some -bitter things under my tongue when you came in. I have -not said them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They could not have hurt more than some of my -own thoughts have hurt me. That’s the mistake people -make. The whip does not wound so much as compassion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, that’s true. A blow puts our egotism in a temper. -I’ll remember that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad that you are Eve’s friend.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate Duveen stood looking down into the fire after -Canterton had gone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One must not indulge in absolute generalities,” she -thought. “Men can be big—sometimes. Now for this -stodgy old German.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk121'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c24'></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>EVE’S SENSE OF THE LIMITATIONS OF LIFE</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve’s London moods began to be more complex, and -tinged with discontent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The homelessness of the great city depressed her. -She felt its chaotic vastness, knowing all the while that -there was ordered purpose behind all its seeming chaos, -and that all its clamour and hurry and crowded interplay -of energies had meaning and significance. There were -some few men who ruled, and who perhaps understood, -but the crowd! She knew herself to be one of the crowd -driven forward by necessity that barked like a brisk sheepdog -round and about a drove of sheep. Sometimes her -mood was one of passionate resentment. London was so -abominably ugly, and the eternal and seemingly senseless -hurry tired her brain and her eyes. She had no cockney -instincts, and the characteristic smells of the great city -aroused no feeling of affectionate satisfaction. The odours -connected with burnt oil and petrol, pickle and jam -factories, the laying of asphalt, breweries, Covent Garden, -the Meat Market, had no familiar suggestiveness. Nor did -the shops interest her for the moment. She had left the -more feminine part of herself at Fernhill, and was content -to wear black.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>London gave her to the full the “damned anonymous” -feeling, making her realise that she had no corner of her -very own. The best of us have some measure of sensitive -egoism, an individuality that longs to leave its personal -impress upon something, even on the sand by the seashore, -and London is nothing but a great, trampled cattle-pen, where -thousands of hoofs leave nothing but a churn of mud. -People build pigeon houses in their back yards, or train -nasturtiums up strings, when they live down by Stepney. -Farther westwards it is the sensitive individualism that -makes many a Londoner country mad. The self-conscious -self resents the sameness, the crowding mediocrity, the -thousands of little tables that carry the same food for -thousands of people, the thousands of seats in indistinguishable -buses and cars, the thousands of little people who -rush on the same little errands along the pavements. For -there is a bitter uniformity even in the midst of a -luxurious variety, when the purse limits the outlook, and -a week at Southend-on-Sea may be the wildest of life’s -adventures.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve began to have the country hunger very badly. -Autumn had gone, and the winter rains and fogs had -set in, and her thoughts went back to Fernhill as she -remembered it in summer, and as she imagined it in -autumn. What a green and spacious world she had left. -The hush of the pine woods on a windless day, when -nothing moved save an occasional squirrel. The blaze of -roses in June. The blue horizons, the great white clouds -sailing, the purple heathland, the lush valleys with their -glimmerings of water! What autumn pictures rose before -her, tantalising her sense of beauty. She saw the bracken -turning bronze and gold, the larch woods changing to amber, -the maples and beeches flaming pyres of saffron, scarlet -and gold. Those soft October mornings with the grass -grey with dew, and the sunlight struggling with white -mists. She began to thirst for beauty, and it was a -thirst that picture galleries could not satisfy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even that last letter of hers to Canterton toned with -her feeling of cramped finality. She had written “No,” -but often her heart cried “Yes,” with an impetuous yearning -towards sympathy and understanding. What a masterful and -creative figure was his when she compared him with these -thousands of black-coated men who scuttled hither and -thither on business that was someone else’s. She felt -that she could be content with more spiritual things, -with a subtle perfume of life that made this City existence -seem gross and material and petty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her daily walks from Highbury to Miss Champion’s -helped to accentuate the tendencies of these moods of -hers. Sometimes Kate Duveen would walk a great part of -the way back with her, and Eve, who was the more -impressionable of the two, led her friend into many -suggestive discussions. Upper Street, Islington, saddened -her. It seemed so typical of the social scheme from which -she was trying to escape.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Doesn’t all this make you feel that it is a city -of slaves?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That depends, perhaps, on one’s digestion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But does it? These people are slaves, without -knowing it. Things are thrust on them, and they think -they choose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing but suggestion, after all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look, I will show you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve stopped in front of a picture shop.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s your opinion of all that is in there?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hopeless, sentimental tosh, of course. But it suits -the people.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is what is given them, and they take it. There -is not one thing in that window that has any glimmer -of genius, or even of distinction.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you expect in Islington?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I call it catering for slaves, and that worst sort of -slavery that does not realise its own condition.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They walked on and passed a bookshop. Eve turned -back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look again!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate Duveen laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose, for instance, that annoys you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She pointed to a row of a dozen copies of a very -popular novel written by a woman, and called “The -Renunciation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It does annoy me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That toshy people rave over tosh! A friend of mine -knows the authoress. She is a dowdy little bourgeoise -who lives in a country town, and they tell me that -book has made her ten thousand pounds. She thinks she -has a mission, and that she is a second George Eliot.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Doesn’t it annoy you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why should it? Fools’ money for a fool’s tale. -What do you expect? I suppose donkeys think that there -is nothing on earth like a donkey’s braying!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All the same, it helps my argument, that these people -are slaves, only capable of swallowing just what is given -them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I dare say you are right. We ought to change a -lot of this in the next fifty years!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder. You see, he taught me a good deal, in -the country, about growth and evolution, and all that has -come from the work of Mendel, De Vries and Bates. -He doesn’t believe in London. He called it an orchid -house, and said he preferred a few wholesome and indigenous -weeds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All the more reason for believing that this sort of -London won’t last. We shall get something better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We may do, if we can get rid of some of the -politicians.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was about this time that Eve began to realise the -limitations of her present life, and to look towards a -very problematical future. It seemed more than probable -that “means to the end” would absorb all her energies, -and that the end itself would never arrive. She found -that her hack work was growing more and more supreme, -and that she had no leisure for her own art. She felt -tired at night, and on Saturdays she was more tempted -to go to a theatre than to sit at home in Bosnia Road and -try to produce pictures. Sundays, too, became sterile. She -stayed in bed till ten, and when she had had breakfast she -found the suburban atmosphere weighing upon her spirits. -Church bells rang; decorous people in Sunday clothes -passed her window on their way to church or chapel. If -she went for a walk she everywhere met a suggestion -of respectable relaxation that dominated her energies and -sent her home depressed and cynical. As for the afternoons, -they were spoilt for her by Mr. Albert Buss’s -banjo, though how his genteel mother reconciled herself -to banjo-playing on a Sunday Eve could not imagine. -Three or four friends joined him. Eve saw them saunter -in at the gate, with dandy canes, soft hats, and an air -of raw doggishness. They usually stared hard at her -window. The walls and floors were thin, and Eve could -hear much that they said, especially when Mrs. Buss went -out for her afternoon walk, and left the “nuts” together. -They talked about horse-racing and girls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s a little bit of all right!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You bet!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ain’t afraid to go home in the dark!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What sort of young lady’s the lodger, Bert? Anything -on?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not my style. Ain’t taking any!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go on, you don’t know how to play up to a girl. -I’d get round anything in London.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Just about dusk Mr. Buss and his friends sauntered -out on love adventures, and Mrs. Buss sat down at her -piano and sung hymns with a sort of rolling, throaty -gusto. Eve found it almost unendurable, so much so that -she abandoned the idea of trying to use her Sundays at -Bosnia Road, and asked Kate Duveen to let her spend -the day with her in Bloomsbury.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On weekdays, when it happened to be fine and not too -cold, she and Kate would spend the twenty minutes after -lunch in St. James’s Park, sitting on a seat and watching -the irrepressible sparrows or the machinations of a predatory -cat. The bare trees stood out against the misty -blue of the London horizon, and even when the sun shone, -the sunlight seemed very thin and feeble. Other people -sat on the seats, and read, or ate food out of paper -bags. Very rarely were these people conversational. They -appeared to have many thoughts to brood over, and nothing -to say.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate Duveen had noticed a change in Eve. There -was a different look in her eyes. She, too, was less -talkative, and sometimes a cynical note came into her voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you thinking about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was I thinking?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You haven’t said anything for five minutes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One can be conscious of an inner atmosphere, without -calling it thought.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Much fog about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some of the sensitive fire came back into Eve’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Kate, I am horribly afraid of being crushed—of -becoming one of the crowd. It seems to me that one -may never have time to be oneself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean that the effort to live leaves no margin?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s it. I suppose most of us find in the end -that we are the slaves of our hack work, and that our -ambitions die of slow starvation. Think of it. Think -of the thousands of people who had something to do or -say, and were smothered by getting a living.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s the usual thing. I felt it myself. I nearly gave -up; but I set my teeth and scratched. I’ve determined -to fight through—to refuse to be smothered. I’ll get my -independence, somehow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes I feel that I must throw up all this -bread and butter stuff, and stake everything on one -adventure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then don’t do it. I have seen people try it. Ninety-nine -out of the hundred come back broken, far worse off -than they were before. They’re humble, docile things for -the rest of their lives. Carry the harness without a murmur. -Not a kick left, I know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been thinking of a secretaryship. It might -give me more leisure—breathing space——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Try it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you being ironical?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a bit. I’ll speak to Miss Champion. She’s not -a bad sort, so long as you are tweety-tweety and never -cause any complications.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish you would speak to her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate Duveen had peculiar influence with Miss Champion, -perhaps because she was not afraid of her. Miss Champion -thought her a very sound and reliable young woman, a -young woman whose health and strength seemed phenomenal, -and who never caused any friction by going down with -influenza, and so falling into arrears with her work. Kate -Duveen had made herself a very passable linguist. She -could draw, type, scribble shorthand, do book-keeping, -write a good magazine article or edit the ladies’ page -of a paper. Every year she spent her three weeks’ holiday -abroad, and had seen a good deal of Germany, Italy -and France. Miss Champion always said that Kate Duveen -had succeeded in doing a very difficult thing—combining -versatility with efficiency.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So Miss Carfax would like a secretaryship? I suppose -you think her suitable?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is not a safer girl in London.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I understand you. Because she has looks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you can ignore them. She is very keen to -get on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very well. I will look out for something to suit her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m much obliged to you, Miss Champion. I believe -in Eve Carfax.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk122'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c25'></a>CHAPTER XXV</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>HUGH MASSINGER, ESQ.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hugh Massinger, Esq., was a person of some distinction -as a novelist, and an æsthetic dabbler in Gothic mysteries. -His novel “The Torch Lily” had had a great sale, -especially in the United States, where an enthusiastic reviewer -had compared it to Flaubert’s “Salambo.” Hugh -Massinger had edited “Marie de France” and the “Romance -of the Rose,” issued an abridged “Froissart,” and published -books on “The Mediæval Colour-sense,” and “The Higher -Love of Provence.” His poems, sensuous, Swinburnian -fragments, full of purple sunsets and precious stones, -roses, red mouths and white bosoms had fascinated some -of those erotic and over-civilised youngsters who turn from -Kipling as from raw meat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Miss Champion offered Eve the post of secretary -to Hugh Massinger, she accepted it as a piece of unexpected -good fortune, for it seemed to be the very berth that -she had hoped for, but feared to get.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Champion said some characteristic things.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, you know who Mr. Massinger is? Yes. -You have read ‘The Torch Lily’? A little bold, but so -full of colour. I must warn you that he is just a trifle -eccentric. You are to call and see him at ten o’clock -to-morrow at his flat in Purbeck Street. The terms are -two pounds a week, which, of course, includes my commission.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am very grateful to you, Miss Champion. I hope -I shall satisfy Mr. Massinger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Champion looked at her meaningly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The great thing, Miss Carfax, is to be impersonal. -Always the work, and nothing but the work. That is how -my protegées have always succeeded.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve concluded that Hugh Massinger was rather young.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Champion had stated that he was eccentric, but -it was not the kind of eccentricity that Eve had expected -to find in Purbeck Street. A youngish manservant with a -bleached and dissolute face showed her into a long room that -was hung from floor to ceiling with black velvet. The -carpet was a pure white pile, and with the ceiling made -the room look like a black box fitted with a white -bottom and lid. There was only one window, and no -furniture beyond a lounge covered with blood-red velvet, -two bronze bowls on hammered iron pedestals, an antique -oak table, two joint-stools, and a very finely carved oak -court-cupboard in one corner. The fire burnt in an iron -brazier standing in an open fireplace. There were no -mirrors in the room, and on each square of the black -velvet hangings a sunflower was embroidered in gold silk. -Heraldic glass had been inserted into the centre panels of -the window, and in the recess a little silver tripod lamp -burnt with a bluish flame, and gave out a faint perfume.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had walked from Kate Duveen’s. It was the usual -wet day, and the streets were muddy, and as she sat on -the joint-stool the valet had offered her she saw that she -had left footprints on the white pile carpet. It seemed -rather an unpropitious beginning, bringing London mud -into this eccentric gentleman’s immaculate room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was still looking at the footprints, when the black -hangings were pushed aside, and a long, thin, yellow-faced -young man appeared. He was wrapped in a black velvet -dressing-gown, and wore sandals.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Carfax, I presume?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had risen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Please sit down. I’m afraid I am rather late this -morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Any suggestion of subtle and decadent wickedness that -the room possessed was diluted by Hugh Massinger’s -appearance. There was a droopingness about him, and his -face was one of those long yellow faces that fall away -in flaccid curves from the forehead to the chin. His nose -drooped at the tip, his eyes were melancholy under drooping -lids; his chin receded, and lost itself rather fatuously -in a length of thin neck. His hair was of the same -tint as his smooth, sand-coloured face, where a brownish -moustache rolled over a wet mouth. He stooped badly, -and his shoulders were narrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I called on Miss Champion some days ago. My -work requires special ability. Shall I explain?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Please.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He smiled like an Oriental, and, curling himself on -the lounge, brought a black metal cigarette case out of -the pocket of his dressing-gown.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you mind if I smoke?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not in the least.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps you will join me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid I don’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was surprised when he laughed a rather foolish -laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s quite a phrase, ‘The Women who Don’t!’ -I keep a toyshop for phrases.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He puffed his cigarette and began to explain the work -to her in a soft and sacramental voice that somehow -made her want to laugh. He talked as though he were -reading blank-verse or some prose poem that was full of -mysterious precocity. But she forgot his sing-song voice -in becoming conscious of his eyes. They were moonish -and rather muddy, and seemed to be apprizing her, looking -her up and down and in and out with peculiar interest. -She did not like Hugh Massinger’s eyes. They made her -feel that she was being touched.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am writing a book on mediæval life, especially -in regard to its æsthetic values. There is a good deal -of research to be done, and old illustrations, illuminations -and tapestries to be reproduced. It is to be a big book, -quite comprehensive.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve soon discovered that Hugh Massinger could not -be impersonal in anything that he undertook. The “I” -“I” “I” oozed out everywhere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Champion assured me that you are a fine -colourist. Colour is the blood of life. That is why -people who are colour mystics can wear black. The -true colour, like the blood, is underneath. I noticed, -directly I came into the room, that you were wearing -black. It convinced me at once that you would be a -sympathetic worker. My art requires sympathy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She smiled disarmingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid my black is conventional.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should say that it is not. I suppose you have -worked in the Museum?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For two or three months.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Deathly place! How life goes to dust and to -museums! I’ll not ask you to go there more than I -can help.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His melancholy eyes drooped over her, and filled her -with a determination to be nothing but practical. She -thought of Kate Duveen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s my work, and I’m used to it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The place kills me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t mind it at all. I think most of us need a -certain amount of work to do that we don’t like doing, -because, if we can always do what we like, we end by -doing nothing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He blinked at her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, I never expected to hear you say that. It is so -very British.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I make a living in England!” and she laughed. -“Will you tell me exactly what you want me to do?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Massinger gathered himself up from the lounge, went -to the oak cupboard, and brought out a manuscript book -covered with black velvet, and with the inevitable sunflower -embroidered on it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had better give you a list of the books I want -you to dip into.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve took a notebook and a pencil from her bag, -and for the next ten minutes she was kept busy scribbling -down ancient and unfamiliar titles. Many of them smelt -of Caxton, and Wynkyn de Worde, and of the Elizabethans. -There were books on hunting, armour, dress, domestic -architecture, painted glass, ivories and enamels; also herbals, -chap-books, monastic chronicles, Exchequer rolls and copies -of charters. Hugh Massinger might be an æsthetic ass, -but he seemed to be a somewhat learned one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you will map out the days as follows: -In the morning I will ask you to go to the Museum and -make notes and drawings. In the afternoon you can submit -them to me here, and I will select what I require, and -advise you as to what to hunt up next day. I suppose -you won’t mind answering some of my letters?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Champion said that I was to act as your -secretary.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Blessed word! I am pestered with letters. They -tried to get me to manage several of those silly pageants. -They don’t understand the Middle Ages, these moderns.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She wanted to keep to practical things.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What time shall I go to the Museum?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never worry about time—when you like.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And how long will you want me here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never work after five o’clock, except, of course, -when I feel creative.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stood up, putting her notebook back into her bag.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then, shall I start to-morrow?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If it pleases you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He accompanied her to the door, and opened it for -her, looking with half furtive intentness into her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think we shall get on very well together, Miss -Carfax.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went out with a vague feeling of contempt and -distaste.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Within a week Eve discovered that she was growing -interested in her new work, and also interested, in a negative -fashion, in Hugh Massinger. He was a rather baffling -person, impressing her as a possible genius and as a -palpable fool. She usually found him curled up on the -lounge, smoking a hookah, and looking like an Oriental, -sinister and sleepy. For some reason or other, his smile -made her think of a brass plate that had not been properly -cleaned, and was smeary. Once or twice the suspicion -occurred to her that he took drugs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But directly he began to use his brain towards some -definite end, she felt in the presence of a different -creature. His eyes lost their sentimental moonishness; his -thin and shallow hands seemed to take a virile grip; his -voice changed, and his mouth tightened. The extraordinary -mixture of matter that she brought back from the Museum -jumbled in her notes was seized on and sorted, and spread -out with wonderful lucidity. His knowledge astonished her, -and his familiarity with monkish Latin and Norman French -and early English. The complex, richly coloured life of -the Middle Ages seemed to hang before him like a -splendid tapestry. He appeared to know every fragment of -it, every shade, every faded incident, and he would take -the tangle of threads she brought him and knot them -into their places with instant precision. His favourite place -was on the lounge, his manuscript books spread round -him while he jotted down a fact here and there, or -sometimes recorded a whole passage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But directly his intellectual interest relaxed he became -flabby, sentimental, and rather fulsome in his personalities. -The manservant would bring in tea, and Massinger would -insist on Eve sharing it with him. He always drank -China tea, and it reminded her of Fernhill, and the teas -in the gardens, only the two men were so very different. -Massinger had a certain playfulness, but it was the playfulness -of a cat. His pale, intent eyes made her uncomfortable. -She did not mind listening while he talked about -himself, but when he tried to lure her into giving him -intimate matter in return, she felt mute, and on her -guard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This new life certainly allowed her more leisure, for -there were afternoons when Hugh Massinger did not work -at all, and Eve went home early to Bosnia Road. On -these afternoons she managed to snatch an hour’s daylight, -but the stuff she produced did not please her. She had -all the craftsman’s discontent in her favour, but the glow -seemed to have gone out of her colours.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate Duveen wanted to know all about Hugh Massinger. -She had read some of his poetry, and thought it “erotic -tosh.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was quite frank.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He interests me, but I don’t like him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Instinct! Some people don’t strike one as being -clean.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She described the black velvet room, and the way -Massinger dressed. Kate’s nostrils dilated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Faugh, that sort of fool! Do you mean to say he -receives you in a dressing-gown and sandals?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is part of the pose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder why it is that when a man is clever in -the artistic way, he so often behaves like an ass? I -thought the art pose was dying out. Can you imagine -Bergson, or Ross, or Treves, or Nansen, dressing up and -scenting themselves and sitting on a divan? People who -play with words seem to get tainted, and too beastly -self-conscious.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He rather amuses me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do his lips drop honey? If there is one kind of -man I hate it’s the man who talks clever, sentimental -slosh.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t encourage the honey.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate came in flushed one day to the little corner -table they frequented in one of Lyons’s shops. It was -an unusual thing for Kate to be flushed, or to show -excitement. Something had happened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Great news?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes shone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve got it at last.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your travelling berth?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. A serious-minded young widow wants a travelling -companion, secretary, etc. Rage for cosmopolitan colour, -pictures and peoples. We begin with Egypt, go on to -the Holy Land, Damascus, Constantinople. Then back -to the South of France, do Provence and the towns -and châteaux, wander down to Italy and Sicily, and just -deign to remember the Tyrol and Germany on the way -home. It’s gorgeous!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve flushed too.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Kate, I am glad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My languages did it! She can speak French, but -no German or Italian. And the pay’s first-class. I always -wanted to specialise in this sort of vagabondage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll write books!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who knows! We must celebrate. We’ll dine at the -Hotel d’Italie, and go and see Pavlova at the Palace. -It’s my day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Despite her delight in Kate’s good fortune, Eve had a -personal regret haunting the background of her consciousness. -Kate Duveen was her one friend in London. She -would miss her bracing, cynical strength.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They dined at the Hotel d’Italie in one of the little -upper rooms, and Kate talked Italian to the waiters, and -made Eve drink her health in very excellent Barolo. She -had been lucky in getting seats at the Palace, two reserved -tickets having been sent back only ten minutes before -she had called.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had never seen Pavlova before, and the black-coated -and conventional world melted out of her consciousness -as she sat and watched the Russian dancer. That -fragile, magical, childlike figure seemed to have been conceived -in the heart of a white flame. It was life, and all -the strange and manifold suggestions of life vibrating and -glowing in one slight body. Eve began to see visions, -as she sat in the darkness and watched Pavlova moving -to Chopin’s music. Pictures flashed and vanished, moods -expressed in colour. The sun went down behind black -pine woods, and a wind wailed. A half-naked girl dressed -in skins and vine leaves fled from the brown arms of a -young barbarian. A white butterfly flitted among Syrian -roses. She heard bees at work, birds singing in the dawn. -And then, it was the pale ghost of Francesca drifting -through the moonlight with death in her eyes and hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then the woman’s figure was joined by a man’s figure, -and Liszt’s Second Hungarian Rhapsody was in the air. -The motive changed. Something bacchic, primitive, passionate -leapt in the blood. Eve sat thrilled, with half-closed -eyes. Those two figures, the woman’s and the -man’s, seemed to rouse some wild, elemental spirit in her, -to touch an undreamt-of subconsciousness that lay concealed -under the workaday life. Desire, the exultation of -desire, and the beauty of it were very real to her. She -felt breathless and ready to weep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When it was over, and she and Kate were passing -out with the crowd, a kind of languor descended on her, -like the languor that comes after the senses have been -satisfied. It was not a sensual feeling, although it was -of the body. Kate too was silent. Pavlova’s dancing had -reacted on her strangely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s walk!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you rather?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As far as my rooms. Then I shall put you in a taxi.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had to wait awhile before crossing the road, -as motors were swarming up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That woman’s a genius. She made me feel like a -rusty bit of clockwork!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She had a most extraordinary effect on me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate took Eve’s arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The thing’s pure, absolutely pure, and yet, she seems -to show you what you never believed was in you. It’s -the soul of the world coming out to dance, and making -you understand all that is in us women. Heavens, I -found myself feeling like a Greek girl, a little drunk with -wine, and still more drunk with love.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Kate—you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and it was not beastly, as those things usually -are. I’m not an emotional person. I suppose it is the big -subconscious creature in one answering a language that our -clever little heads don’t understand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was thinking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I envy that woman!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because she has a genius, and because she has been -able to express her genius, and because she has succeeded -in conquering the crowd. They don’t know how clever -she is, but they go and see her dance. Think what it -means being a supreme artist, and yet popular. For once -the swine seem to appreciate the pearl.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were making their way through a crowd of -loiterers at the corner of Tottenham Court Road, when -a tall man brushed against them and stepped aside. He -wore a black wideawake hat, a low collar with a bunchy -black silk tie, and a loose black coat with a tuberose -in the buttonhole. He stared first at Kate, and then at -Eve with a queer, comprehensive, apprizing stare. Suddenly -he took off his hat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The women passed on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Beast!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate’s mouth was iron.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was Hugh Massinger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hugh Massinger!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, I said ‘beast,’ and I still mean it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your impression?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. I don’t think old Champion ought to have -sent you to that sort of man.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk123'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c26'></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>KATE DUVEEN GOES ABROAD</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Although Hugh Massinger had reached the cynical age of -thirty-seven, he had been so well treated by the Press -and the public, that he had no cause to develop a sneer. -His essential self-satisfaction saved him from being bored, -for to be very pleased with oneself is to be pleased with -life in general. His appetites were still ready to be piqued, -and he had the same exotic delight in colour that he had -had when he was an undergraduate of twenty, and this -reaction to colour is one of the subtlest tests of a man’s -vitality. When the sex stimulus weakens, when a man -becomes even a little disillusioned and a little bored, he -no longer thrills to colours. It is a sign that the youth -in him is growing grey.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hugh Massinger’s senses were abnormally excitable. -He was city bred, and a sitter in chairs, and a lounger -upon lounges, and his ideas upon flowers, woods, fields -and the country in general were utterly false, hectic and -artificial. He was the sort of sentimentalist who was always -talking of the “beautiful intrigues of the plants,” of -“the red lust of June,” and the “swelling bosom of -August.” His art was a sexual art. His thoughts lay -about on cushions, and he never played any kind of -game.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About this time Eve discovered that his sentimentality -was growing more demonstrative. It was like a yellow -dog that fawned round and round her chair, but seemed -a little afraid of coming too near. He took a great deal -of trouble in trying to make her talk about herself, and -in thrusting a syrupy sympathy upon her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are looking tired to-day,” he would say, “I -shan’t let you work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She would protest that she was not tired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Really, I am nothing of the kind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I have quick eyes. It is that horrible reading-room -full of fustiness and indigence. I am ashamed to -to send you there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She would laugh and study to be more conventional.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Massinger, I am a very healthy young woman, and -the work interests me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My work?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is really sweet of you. I like to think your -woman’s hands have dabbled in it. Tell me, haven’t you -any ambitions of your own—any romantic schemes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I paint a little in my spare time!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The mysteries of colour. You are a vestal, and -your colour dreams must be very pure. Supposing we talk -this afternoon, and let work alone? And Adolf shall make -us coffee.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Adolf made excellent coffee, and in the oak court-cupboard -Massinger kept liqueur glasses and bottles of choice -liqueur. It was a harmless sort of æsthetic wickedness, a -little accentuated by occasional doses of opium or cannabis -indica. Eve would take the coffee, but she could never -be persuaded to touch the Benedictine. It reminded her of -Massinger’s moonish and intriguing eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At that time she thought of him as a sentimental ass, -a man with a fine brain and no common sense. She posed -more and more as a very conventional young woman, pretending -to be a little shocked by his views of life, and -meeting his suggestive friendliness with British obtuseness. -She gave him back Ruskin, the Bensons and Carlyle when -he talked of Wilde. And yet this pose of hers piqued -Massinger all the more sharply, though she did not suspect -it. He talked to himself of “educating her,” of “reforming -her taste,” and of “teaching her to be a little more -sympathetic towards the sweet white frailties of life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Early in December Kate’s last evening came, and Eve -spent it with her in the Bloomsbury rooms. There were -the last odds and ends of packing to be done, the innumerable -little feminine necessaries to be stowed away in the -corners of the “steamer” trunks. Eve helped, and her -more feminine mind offered a dozen suggestions to her more -practical friend. Kate Duveen was not a <span class='it'>papier poudre</span> -woman. She did not travel with a bagful of sacred little -silver topped boxes and bottles, and her stockings were -never anything else but black.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you got any hazeline and methylated spirit?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must get some on the way to the station. -Or I’ll get them in the morning. And have you plenty -of thick veiling?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My complexion is the last thing I ever think -of.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have not forgotten the dictionaries, though.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, nor my notebooks and stylo.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had supper together, and then sat over the fire -with their feet on the steel fender. Kate Duveen had -become silent. She was thinking of James Canterton, and -the way he had walked into her room that evening.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am going to break a promise in order to keep a -promise. I think I am justified.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He came here to see me one evening about two -months ago.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whom do you mean?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“James Canterton.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you didn’t tell me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He asked me to promise not to tell, and I liked -him for it. I was rather astonished, and I snapped at -him. He took it like a big dog. But he asked me to -promise something else.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What was it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That if ever things were to go badly with you, I -would let him know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She glanced momentarily at Eve and found that she -was staring at the fire, her lips parted slightly, as though -she were about to smile, and her eyes were full of a -light that was not the mere reflection of the fire. Her -whole face had softened, and become mysteriously radiant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was like him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I may keep my promise?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think I can trust you both.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve said nothing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She saw Kate off in her cab next morning before -going to her work at the Museum. They held hands, -but did not kiss.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m so glad that you’ve had this good luck. You -deserve it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense. Write; and remember that promise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope there will be no need for you to keep it. -Good-bye, dear! You’ve been so very good to me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was very sad when Kate had gone, and in the -great reading-room such a rush of loneliness came over -her that she had but little heart for work. She fell to -thinking of Canterton, and of the work they had done -together, and the thought of Hugh Massinger and that flat -of his in Purbeck Street made her feel that life had -cheapened and deteriorated. There was something unwholesome -about the man and his art. It humiliated her to think -that sincerity had thrust this meaner career upon her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Punctually at two o’clock she rang the bell of the -flat in Purbeck Street. Adolf admitted her. She disliked -Adolf’s smile. It was a recent development, and it struck -her as being latently offensive.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hugh Massinger was curled up on the lounge, reading -one of Shaw’s plays. He loathed Shaw, but read him as -a dog worries something that it particularly detests. He -sat up, his moonish eyes smiling, and Eve realised for the -first time that his eyes and Adolf’s were somewhat alike.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat down at the table, and began to arrange her -notebooks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You look <span class='it'>triste</span> to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am growing very understanding towards your moods.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She caught the challenge on the shield of a casual -composure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I lost a friend this morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not by death?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no! She has gone abroad. One does not like -losing the only friend one has in London.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He leaned forward with a gesture of protest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now you have hurt me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hurt you, Mr. Massinger!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought that I was becoming something of a friend.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She made herself look at him with frank, calm eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It had not occurred to me. I really am very much -obliged to you. Shall I begin to read out my notes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He did not answer for a moment, but remained looking -at her with sentimental solemnity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear lady, you will not put me off like that. -I am much too sympathetic to be repulsed so easily. -I don’t like to see you sad. Adolf shall make coffee, and -we will give up work this afternoon and chatter. You -shall discover a friend——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She said, very quietly:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would rather work, Mr. Massinger. Work is very -soothing.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk124'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c27'></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE BOURGEOIS OF CLARENDON ROAD</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Buss had surrendered at last to Eve’s persuasions, -and a jobbing carpenter had erected a section-built shed -in the back garden at Bosnia Road. The shed had a -corrugated iron roof, and Mrs. Buss had stipulated that -the roof should be painted a dull red, so that it might -“tone” with the red brick houses. The studio was lined -with matchboarding, had a skylight in the roof, and was -fitted with an anthracite stove. The whole affair cost -Eve about twenty-five pounds, with an additional two -shillings added to the weekly rent of her rooms. She -paid for the studio out of the money she had received -from the sale of the furniture at Orchards Corner, and -her capital had now dwindled to about forty-five pounds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Every morning on her way towards Highbury Corner, -Eve passed the end of Clarendon Grove, a road lined -with sombre, semi-detached houses, whose front gardens -were full of plane trees, ragged lilacs and privets, and -scraggy laburnums. Eve, who was fairly punctual, passed -the end of Clarendon Grove about a quarter to nine -each morning, and there was another person who was just -as punctual in quite a detached and unpremeditated way. -Sometimes she saw him coming out of a gate about a -hundred yards down Clarendon Grove, sometimes he was -already turning the corner, or she saw his broad fat -back just ahead of her, always on the same side of the -street.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She christened him “the Highbury Clock,” or “the -British Bourgeois.” He was a shortish, square-built man of -about five-and-forty, with clumsy shoulders, a round head, -and big feet. He turned his toes out like a German when he -walked, and he always went at the same pace, and always -carried a black handbag. His face was round, phlegmatic, -good tempered, and wholly commonplace, the eyes blue and -rather protuberant, the nose approximating to what is -vulgarly called the “shoe-horn type,” the mouth hidden -by a brownish walrus moustache. He looked the most -regular, reliable, and solid person imaginable in his top-hat, -black coat, and neatly pressed grey trousers. Eve never -caught him hurrying, and she imagined that in hot weather -he ought to wear an alpaca coat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They sighted each other pretty regularly for some -three months before chance caused them to strike up a -casual acquaintanceship. One wet day the Bourgeois gave -up his seat to Eve in a crowded tram. After that he -took off his hat to her whenever she happened to pass -across the end of Clarendon Grove in front of him. One -morning they arrived at the corner at the same moment, -and the Bourgeois wished her “good morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They walked as far as Upper Street together. It -seemed absurd for two humans whose paths touched so -often not to smile and exchange a few words about the -weather, and so it came about that they joined forces -whenever the Bourgeois was near enough to the corner -for Eve not to have to indulge in any conscious loitering.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was a very decent sort of man, and his name was -Mr. Parfit. He was something in the neighbourhood of -Broad Street, but what it was he did not state, and Eve -did not inquire. In due course she discovered that he -was a bachelor, that he had lived for fifteen years in the -same rooms, that he had a passion for romantic novels, -and that he went regularly to Queen’s Hall. He spent -Sunday in his slippers, reading <span class='it'>The Referee</span>. A three weeks’ -holiday once a year satisfied any vagrant impulses he might -feel, and he spent these three weeks at Ramsgate, Hastings -or Brighton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I like to be in a crowd,” he told Eve, “with plenty -of youngsters about. There’s nothing I like better than -sitting on the sands with a pipe and a paper, watching the -kids making castles and pies, and listening to Punch and -Judy. Seems to make one feel young.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She liked Mr. Parfit, and often wondered why he had -not married. Perhaps he was one of those men who preferred -being a very excellent uncle rather than a bored -father, for she gathered that he was fond of other people’s -children, and was always ready with his pennies. He had -a sly, laborious, porcine humour, and a chuckle that made -his cheeks wrinkle and his eyes grow smaller. He -was exceedingly polite to Eve, and though at times he -seemed inclined to be good-naturedly personal, she knew -that it was part of his nature and not a studied attempt -at familiarity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was glad to have this very human person to talk -to, for she found life increasingly lonely, now that Kate -Duveen had gone. Mr. Parfit had a fatherly way with him, -and though his culture was crude and raw, he had a shrewd -outlook upon things in general that was not unamusing. -London, too, was in the thick of the mud and muck of a -wet winter, and Eve found that she was growing more -susceptible to the depressing influence of bad weather. It -spoilt her morning’s walk, and caused a quite unnecessary -expenditure on trams and ’buses, and roused her to a kind -of rage when she pulled up her blind in the morning and -saw the usual drizzle making the slate roofs glisten. She -associated her new studio with rain, for there always seemed -to be a pattering sound upon the corrugated iron roof -when she shut herself in to work.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She grew more moody, and her moodiness drove her -into desperate little dissipations, such as a seat in the -upper circle at His Majesty’s or the Haymarket, a dinner at an -Italian restaurant, or a tea at Fuller’s. She found London -less depressing after dark, and learnt to understand how the -exotic city, with its night jewels glittering, appealed to -people who were weary of greyness. Her sun-hunger and -her country-hunger had become so importunate that she had -spent one Sunday in the country, taking train to Guildford, -and walking up to the Hog’s Back. The Surrey hills had -seemed dim and sad, and away yonder she had imagined -Fernhill, with its fir woods and its great pleasaunce. She -had felt rather like an outcast, and the day had provoked -such sadness in her that she went no more into the country.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The extraordinary loneliness of such a life as hers filled -her at times with cynical amusement. How absurd it was, -this crowded solitude of London; this selfish, suspicious, -careless materialism. No one bothered. More than once -she felt whimsically tempted to catch some passing woman -by the arm, and to say “Stop and talk to me. I am -human, and I have a tongue.” After tea she would often -loiter along Regent Street or Oxford Street, looking rather -aimlessly into the shops, and studying the faces of the -people who passed; but she found that she had to abandon -this habit of loitering, for more than once men spoke to -her, looking in her face with a look that made her grow -cold with a white anger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was inevitable that she should contrast this London -life with the life at Fernhill, and compare all other men -with James Canterton. She could not help making the comparison, -nor did the comparison, when made, help her to -forget. The summer had given her her first great experience, -and all this subsequent loneliness intensified the vividness -of her memories. She yearned to see Lynette, to feel the -child’s warm hands touching her. She longed, too, for -Canterton, to be able to look into his steady eyes, to feel -his clean strength near her, to realise that she was not -alone. Yes, he was clean, while these men who passed her -in the streets seemed horrible, greedy and pitiless. They -reminded her of the people in Aubrey Beardsley’s drawings, -people with grotesque and leering faces, out of whose -eyes nameless sins escaped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The flat in Purbeck Street offered her other contrasts -after the rain and the wet streets and the spattering mud -from the wheels of motor-buses. It was eccentric but -unwholesome, luxurious, and effeminate, with suggestions -of an extreme culture and an individual idea of beauty. -Coming straight from a cheap lunch eaten off a marble-topped -table to this muffled, scented room, was like passing -from a colliery slum to a warm and scented bath in a -Roman villa. Eve noticed that her shoes always seemed -muddy, and she laughed over it, and apologised.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I always leave marks on your white carpet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You should read Baudelaire in order to realise that a -thing that is white is of no value without a few symbolical -stains. Supposing I have a glass case put over one of -your footprints, so that Adolf shall not wash them all -away?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was just what she disliked about Hugh Massinger. -He was for ever twisting what she said into an excuse for -insinuating that he found her charming and provocative. -He did not play at gallantry like a gentleman. A circuitous -cleverness and a natural cowardliness kept him from -being audaciously frank. He fawned like a badly bred dog, -and she liked his fawnings so little that she began to -wonder at last whether this fool was in any way serious.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One morning it snowed hard before breakfast for about -an hour, and by one o’clock London was a city of slush. -Eve felt depressed, and her shoes and stockings and the -bottom of her skirt were sodden when she reached the -flat in Purbeck Street. Adolf smiled his usual smile, and -confessed that Mr. Massinger had not expected her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ma Donna! I never thought you would brave this -horrible weather.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He threw a book aside and was up, solicitous, and -not a little pleased at the chance of being tender.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose English weather is part of the irony of -life!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good heavens! Your shoes and skirt are wet!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A little.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He piled two or three cushions in front of the fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do sit down and take your shoes and stockings off, -and dry your skirt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat down and took off her shoes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stockings too! I can be very fatherly and severe. -Do you think it immodest to show your bare feet? You -must have a liqueur; it will warm you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would rather not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, come! You are a pale Iseult to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you, I would rather not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then Adolf shall make us coffee.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He rang the bell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Adolf, coffee and some biscuits! And bring that -purple scarf of mine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The scarf arrived first, and Massinger held it spread -over his hands like a shop-assistant showing off a length -of silk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Two little white empresses shall wear the purple. No -work this afternoon. I am going to try to make you -forget the weather.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Adolf came in noiselessly with the coffee, set it on a -stool beside Eve, and departed just as noiselessly, and with -an absolutely expressionless face. The way he had of -effacing himself made Eve more conscious of his -existence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fire was comforting, so was the coffee. She could -have slipped into a mood of soothed indolence if Massinger -had not been present. But his leering obsequiousness had -disturbed her, and she found herself facing that eternal -problem as to how a woman should behave to a man -who employed her and paid for her time. Was it necessary -to quarrel with all this sentimental by-play? She still -held to her impression that he was a very great ass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This detestable climate! It brutalises us. It makes one -understand why the English drink beer, and love to see -the red corpses of animals hung up in shops. A gross -climate, and a gross people.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had wrapped the purple scarf round her feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If we could be sure of a little sunshine every other -day!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was staring at the fire, and Massinger was studying -her with an interested intentness. Thought and desire -were mingled at the back of his pale eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sunshine—clear, yellow light! Don’t you yearn for -it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who does not? With the exception of the people -who have been baked in the tropics.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And it is so near. The people who are free can always -find it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He lay back against the cushions on the lounge, his -eyes still on her, and shining with an incipient smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You leave the grey country at dusk, and travel through -the night, and then the dawn comes up, all orange and -gold, and the cypresses hold up their beckoning fingers. -There the sea is blue, and there are flowers, roses, carnations, -wallflowers, stocks, and mimosa; oranges and lemons hang -on the trees, and the white villas shine among palms and -olives.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His voice became insinuating, and took on its sing-song -blank-verse cadence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you ever seen Monte Carlo?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is a vulgar world to the vulgar. But that delectable -little world has an esoteric meaning. The sun shines, and it -is easier to make love under a blue sky. And then, all -those little towns on the edge of the blue sea, and the grey -rock villages, and the adventures up mule-paths. Think of -a mule-path, and pine woods, and sunlight, and a bottle -of red wine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed, but with a tremor of self-consciousness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is useful to think of such things, just to realise -how very far away they are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing is far away, when one has the magic carpet -of gold. Have the courage to dream, and there you -are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He got up, wandered round the room with a wavering -glance at her, and then came across to the fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just think of ‘Monte’ and the sunlight, and the gay -pagan life. It is worth experiencing. Dream of it for a -week in London. Are you getting dry?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went down suddenly on one knee and felt her -skirt, and in another moment he had touched one of -her feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The little white empress is warm. How would she -like to walk the terraces at Monte Carlo?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve kept very still. She had an abrupt glimpse of the -meaning of his suggestions, and of all that was moving -towards her in this man’s mind. Intuition told her that -she would rebuff him more thoroughly by treating him as -a sentimental idiot than by flattening him with anger, as -if he were a man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Please don’t do that. It’s foolish, and makes me -want to laugh. I think it’s time we were serious. I am -ready for work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For an instant his eyes looked sulky and dangerous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a practical person it is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And what a long time you have taken to find that -out. I’m afraid I’m not in the least sentimental.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hugh Massinger went back to the lounge like a cat -that has been laughed at.</p> - -<hr class='tbk125'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c28'></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>CANTERTON’S COTTAGE AND MISS CHAMPION’S MORALITY</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Three days before Christmas, Eve spent a quarter of an -hour in a big toyshop in quest of something that she -could send Lynette, and her choice came to rest upon a -miniature cooking-stove fitted with a three-trayed oven, pots -and pans, and a delightful little copper kettle. The stove -cost her a guinea, but it was a piece of extravagance -that warmed her heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She wrote on a card:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For cooking Fairy Food in the Wilderness. Miss Eve -sends ever so much love.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had kept back one Latimer sketch, a little “post -card” picture of a stone Psyche standing in thought on -the edge of a marble pool, with a mass of cypresses for -a background, and a circle of white water lilies at her feet. -She sent the picture to Canterton with a short letter, but -she did not give him her address.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“I feel that I must send you Christmas wishes. This -is a little fragment I had kept by me, and I should like -you to have it. Plenty of hard work keeps me from -emulating the pose of Psyche in the picture. I am spending -Christmas alone, but I shall paint, and think of Lynette -entertaining Father Christmas.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My friend, Kate Duveen, has gone abroad for six -months. I think when the spring comes I shall be driven -to escape into the country as an artistic tramp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have just built a studio. It measures fourteen feet -by ten, and lives in a back garden. So one is not distracted -by having beautiful things to look at.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I send you all the wishes that I can wish.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-bottom:1em;'>“<span class='sc'>Eve.</span>”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>When she posted the letter and sent off Lynette’s -parcel, she felt that they were passing across a vacant -space into another world that never touched her own. It -was like a dream behind her consciousness. She wondered, -as she wandered away from the post office, whether she would -ever see Fernhill again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If the incident saddened her and accentuated her sense -of loneliness, that letter of hers, and the picture of the -Latimer Psyche, saddened Canterton still more poignantly. -It was possible that he had secretly hoped that Eve would -relent a little, and that she would suffer him to approach -her again and let his honour spend itself in some comradely -service. He did not want to open up old wounds, but -he desired to know all that was happening to her, to feel -that she was within sight, that he did not love a mere -memory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette’s delight baffled him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, that’s just what I wanted. Isn’t it like Miss -Eve to think of it? I must write to her, daddy. Where’s -she say she’s living now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In London.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why doesn’t she come for Christmas?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because she’s so very busy. You write and thank her, -old lady, and I’ll send your letter with mine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette produced a longish letter, and Canterton wrote -one of his own. He enclosed a five pound note, addressed -the envelope to Miss Eve Carfax, c/o Miss Kate Duveen, -and sent it into the unknown to take its chance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had written:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“It still hurts me not a little that you will not trust -me with your address. I give you my promise never to -come to you unless you send for me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Buy yourself something for the studio from me and -Lynette. Even if you spend the money on flowers I shall -be quite happy.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>And since Kate Duveen’s landlady did not know Eve’s -address, and happened to be a conscientious soul, Canterton’s -letter was put into another envelope and sent to hunt -Kate down in the land of the lotus and the flamingo.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Christmas Day was bright and frosty, and Canterton -wandered out alone after breakfast with Eve’s letter in his -pocket. The great nurseries were deserted, and Canterton -had this world of his to himself, even the ubiquitous -Lavender not troubling to go beyond the region of the -hot-houses. Canterton left the home gardens behind, cut -across a plantation of young pines, cypresses and cedars -towards some of the wilder ground that had been largely -left to Nature. Here, under the northerly shelter of a -towering fir wood there happened to be an out-cropping -of rock, brown black hummocks of sandstone piled in -natural disorder, and looking like miniature mountains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Building had been going on here, and it was the -building itself that held Canterton’s thoughts. A cottage -stood with its back to the fir wood, a Tudor cottage -built of oak and white plaster, and deep thatched with -blackened heather. The lattices were in, and blinked -back the December sunlight. A terrace of flat stones had -been laid in front of the cottage, and a freshly planted -yew hedge shut in the future garden that was still littered -with builders’ debris, mortar-boards, planks, messes of plaster -and cement. The windows of the cottage looked southwards -towards the blue hills, and just beyond the yew -hedge lay the masses of sandstone that were being made -into a rock garden. Earth had been carted and piled about. -Dwarf trees, saxifrages, aubrietias, anemones, alyssum, arabis, -thrift, sedums, irises, hundreds of tulips, squills, crocuses, -and narcissi had been planted. By next spring the black -brown rocks would be splashed with colour—purple and -white, blue and gold, rose, green and scarlet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the cross-beam of the timber porch the date of -the year had been cut. Canterton stood and looked at it, -thinking how strange a significance those figures had for him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took a key out of his pocket, unlocked the door, -and climbed the half finished staircase to one of the upper -rooms. And for a while he stood at the window, gazing -towards the December sun hanging low in the southern -sky.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Would she ever come to live in this cottage?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He wondered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton rarely discussed his affairs with anybody, and -the cottage had been half built before Gertrude had heard -of its existence. And when she had discovered it, Canterton -had told her quite calmly what it was for.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall have to have help here. Eve Carfax may come -back. She is trying this berth in London for a year. -She understands colour-gardening better than anybody I -have come across. If she fails me, I shall have to get -someone else. I think Drinkwater is making a very good -job of the cottage. I wanted something that is not -conventional.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude had suggested that if the cottage were likely -to remain unoccupied for a while she might use it temporarily -as a country rest-house for some of a London -friend’s rescued “Magdalens.” She had been surprised at -the almost fierce way Canterton had stamped on the -suggestion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you. You will do nothing of the kind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not part of his dream that this speculative -cottage that he had built for Eve should be so used.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Besides, every detail had been thought out to please -eyes that sought and found the beauty in everything. The -little dining-room was to be panelled oak, the window-seats -were deep enough to make cushioned lounges where -one could lie and read. All the timber used was oak, -from the beams that were left showing in the ceiling to -the panel-work of the cupboards and the treads and newel-posts -of the stairs. The door-fittings were of hammered steel, -the hearths laid with dark green tiles. A little electric -light plant was to be fitted, with a tiny gas engine and -dynamo in an outhouse behind the cottage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton spent the greater part of Christmas morning -wandering from room to room, studying the views from -the different windows, and examining the work the men -had put in during the previous week. He also drew a -trial plan of the garden, sitting on one of the window-seats, -and using a pencil and the back of a letter. Both -cottage and garden were parts of a piece of speculative -devotion, and in them his strength found self-expression.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meanwhile “the Bourgeois” of Clarendon Grove became -very much more talkative just about Christmas time. Eve -met him at the corner of the road on three successive -mornings, and his person suggested holly berries, roast -beef, and a pudding properly alight. He seemed festive -and unable to help being confidential.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Suppose you’ll be going away to friends?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She told Mr. Parfit that she would be spending Christmas -quite alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I say, that’s not good for you! What, no kids, and -no party?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Christmas isn’t Christmas without kids. I always go -to my sister Jane’s at Croydon. Good sort, Jane. Two -boys and two girls. All healthy, too. Makes you feel -young to see them eat. I always go down on Christmas -Eve with a Tate’s sugar box full of presents. That’s the -sort of Christmas that suits me A1!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her benignantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Should you like to know Jane? She’s a good sort.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should like to know her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look here! I’ll tell her to come and call on you. -Do the social thing. Pity you can’t join us all for -Christmas. We’d soon make you feel at home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes were a trifle apologetic, but very kind, and -his kindness touched her. He was quite sincere in what -he said, and she discovered a new sensitiveness in him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s good of you to think of such a thing. One -finds life rather lonely at times. Croydon is a long way -off, but perhaps your sister will come and see me some -day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He began to talk very fast of a sudden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you’d like Jane, and she’d like you, and the -youngsters are jolly kids, and not a bit spoilt. We must -fix up the social business. I’m a fool of a bachelor. I -was made to be married, but somehow I haven’t. Funny -thing, life! One gets in a groove, and it takes something -big to get one out again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed, and wished her good morning rather -abruptly, explaining that he was going down to the City -by train.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had felt touched, amused, and a little puzzled. -She thought what an excellent uncle he must make with -the round, Christmas face, and the Tate’s sugar-box full -of presents. And on Christmas morning she found a parcel -from him lying on the breakfast table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had sent her a big box of chocolates and two -new novels, and had written a note. It was a rather -clumsy and apologetic note, but it pleased her.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Miss Carfax</span>,—Please accept these trifles. I -don’t know whether you will think me an impertinent old -fogey, but there you are. I couldn’t send you a turkey, -you know. Too large an order for one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish you were spending Christmas with us. Better -luck next year.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:6em;'>“Very sincerely yours,</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-bottom:1em;'>“<span class='sc'>John Parfit</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve found it rather a struggle to pull through Christmas, -and then, as though for a contrast, came her disagreement -with Hugh Massinger. It was a serious disagreement, so -serious that she took a taxi back to Bosnia Road at -three in the afternoon, angry, shocked, and still flushed -with scorn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went down to Miss Champion’s next morning, -and was immediately shown into Miss Champion’s private -room. The lady of the white hair and the fresh face had -put on the episcopal sleeves. She met Eve with an air -of detached and judicial stateliness, seated herself behind -her roll-top desk, and pointed Eve to a chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have come to tell you that I have given up my -secretaryship.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had a feeling that Hugh Massinger had put in -an early pleader, and she was not surprised when Miss -Champion picked up a letter that was lying open on -the desk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is a most deplorable incident, Miss Carfax.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her tone challenged Eve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is more contemptible than deplorable!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Massinger has written me a letter, a letter of -apology and explanation. Of course, I have nothing to -say in defence of such misunderstandings. But you actually -struck him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve’s face flamed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, you must understand——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I fail to understand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The man is a cad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Carfax, these things don’t happen unless a -woman is indiscreet. I think I insisted on your remembering -that a woman must be impersonal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was amazed. She had come to Miss Champion, -counting on a woman’s sympathy, and some show of decent -scorn of a man who misused a situation as Hugh Massinger -had done.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Champion, you suggest it was my fault.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Massinger is a man of culture. He has written, -giving me an explanation. I do not say that I accept -it in its entirety. But without some provocation, thoughtless -provocation, perhaps——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I see the letter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly not. It is confidential.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, he accuses me? It was a cowardly thing—a -mean thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He offers explanations.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Which you accept?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With certain reservations, yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve held her breath. She felt humiliated, angry, and -astonished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never thought it possible that you would take such -a view as this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me explain, Miss Carfax, that I <a id='can'></a>cannot help taking -this view. I have to insist on an absolutely impersonal -attitude. My profession cannot be carried on satisfactorily -without it. I regret it, but I am afraid you are not quite -suited to delicate positions of responsibility.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve said quietly, “Please don’t go into explanations. -You would rather not have me on your staff.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am a stickler for etiquette, rather old-fashioned. -One has to be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I understand. So long as everything looks nice -on the surface. I think we had better say nothing more. -I only came to tell you the truth, and sometimes the -truth is awkward.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She rose, biting her lip, and keeping her hands clenched. -It was monstrous, incredible, that this woman should be -on the man’s side, and that she should throw insinuations -in her face. If she had surrendered to Hugh Massinger -and kept quiet, nothing would have been said, and nothing -might have happened. She felt nauseated, inflamed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am sorry, Miss Carfax——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, please don’t say that! It makes me feel more -cynical.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk126'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c29'></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>EARNING A LIVING</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The affair of Hugh Massinger, and Miss Champion’s -attitude towards it, provided Eve with an experience that -threw a glare of new light upon the life of a woman who -sets out to earn her own living. She had no need to go -to the dramatists to be instructed, for she had touched -the problem with her own hands, and discovered the -sexual hypocrisy that Kate Duveen had always railed at. -Here was she, lonely and struggling on the edge of life, -and a man of Hugh Massinger’s reputation and intelligence -could do nothing more honourable to help her than to -suggest the advantages of a sentimental seduction. Miss -Champion, the woman, had failed to take the woman’s -part. Her middle-class cowardice was all for hushing things -up, for accusing the insulted girl of indiscretions, for -reproaching her with not failing to be a temptation to -men. No smoke without some fire. It was safer to discharge -such a young woman than to defend her. And -Miss Champion’s nostrils were very shy and sensitive. -She was an automatic machine that reacted to any copper -coin that could be called a convention. Certain things never -ought to happen, and if they happened they never ought -to be mentioned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This affair inaugurated hard times for Eve, nor did the -bitterness that it aroused in her help her to bear the new -life with philosophy. It had had something of the effect -on her that the first discovery of sex has upon a sensitive -child. She felt disgusted, shocked, saddened. Life would -never be quite the same, at least, so she told herself, -for this double treachery had shaken her trust, and she -wondered whether all men were like Hugh Massinger, -and all women careful hypocrites like Miss Champion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She longed for Kate Duveen’s sharp and acrid sincerity. -Hers was a personality that might take the raw taste out -of her mouth, but Eve did not write to Kate to tell her -what had happened. Her pride was still able to keep its -own flag flying, and it seemed contemptible to cry out and -complain over the first wound.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One thing was certain, her income had stopped abruptly. -She had about thirty-five pounds left to her credit at the -bank. The rent of her rooms was a pound a week, and -she found that her food cost her about twelve shillings, -this sum including the sixpenny lunches and fourpenny -teas that she had in the City. Putting her expenditure at -thirty-five shillings a week, she had enough money to last -her for twenty weeks, granted, of course, that nothing -unexpected happened, and that she had not to face a -doctor’s bill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It behoved her to bustle round, to cast her net here, -there, and everywhere for work. She entered her name at -several “Agencies,” but found that the agents were none -too sanguine when she had to confess that she could neither -write shorthand nor use a typewriter. Her abilities were -of that higher order whose opportunities are more limited. -People did not want artistic cleverness. The need was all -for drudges.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During her first workless week at Bosnia Road, she -designed a number of fashion plates, and painted half a -dozen little pictures. She called at one of the despised -picture shops, and suggested to the proprietor that he -might be willing to sell these pictures on commission. -The proprietor, a depressed and flabby dyspeptic, was not -encouraging.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could fill my window with that sort of stuff if -I wanted to. People don’t want flowers and country -cottages. Can’t you paint pink babies and young mothers, -and all that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve went elsewhere, and after many wanderings, discovered -a gentleman in the West Central district who was -ready to show her pictures in his window. He was a -little more appreciative, and had a better digestion than -the man who had talked of babies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, that’s quite a nice patch of colour. I don’t -mind showing them. People sometimes like to get the real -thing—cheap.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What would one ask for a thing of this kind?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, half a crown to five shillings. One can’t expect -much more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not so much as for a joint of meat!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was laconic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you see, miss, we’ve all got digestions, but not -many of us have taste.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her next attempt was to dispose of some of her dress -designs, and since she had become familiar at Miss Champion’s -with the names of certain firms who were willing -to buy such creations, she knew where to find a possible -market. It seemed wiser to call in person than to send -the designs by post, and she spent a whole day trying -to interview responsible persons in West End establishments. -One firm rebuffed her with the frank statement -that they were over-supplied with such creations. At two -other places she was told to leave her designs to be looked -at. At her last attempt she succeeded in obtaining an -interview with a hungry-looking and ill-tempered elderly -woman who was writing letters in a little glass-panelled -office at the back of a big shop.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve disliked the woman from the first glance, but she -was grateful to her for having taken the trouble to give -her an interview.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wondered whether Messrs. Smith might have any -use for designs for new spring and summer frocks?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman looked at her from under cunning eyelids.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit down. Let me see.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve unwrapped the drawings and handed them to the -person in authority, who glanced through them as though -she were shuffling a pack of cards.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Had any technical training? Not much, I think.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have lived in Paris.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s an excuse, I suppose. There are one or two -possible ideas here. Leave the designs. I’ll consider them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laid them down on her desk and looked at Eve in -a way that told her that she was expected to go.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had better leave my address.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t it on the cards?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then write it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She pushed a pen and ink towards Eve, and turned to -resume the work that had been interrupted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Eve had gone, the good lady picked up the designs, -looked them carefully through, and then pushed the button -of a bell in the wall behind her. A flurried young woman -with a snub nose, and untidy yellow hair, came in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here, Miss Rush, copy those two. Then pack them all -up and send them back to the address written on that -one. Say we’ve looked at them, and that none are -suitable.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The snub-nosed young woman understood, and two of -Eve’s designs were appropriated, at a cost to Messrs. -Smith of twopence for postage. That was good business. -The whole batch was returned to Eve in the course of -three days, with a laconic type-written statement that the -designs had received careful consideration, but had been -found to be unsuitable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had not seen Mr. Parfit since the loss of her -secretaryship, in fact, not since Christmas, the morning -walks to Highbury Corner having become unnecessary. On -the afternoon of the second Saturday in January, Eve -happened to be standing at her window, dressed to go -out, when she saw him strolling along the path on the other -side of the road. He glanced at her window as he passed, -and, turning when he had gone some thirty yards, came -slowly back again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A sudden hunger for companionship seized her, a desire -to listen to a friendly voice, and to feel that she was -not utterly alone. She hurried out, drawing on her gloves, -and found “the Bourgeois of Clarendon Grove” on the -point of repassing her doorway.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He raised his hat, beamed, and came across.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, here you are! I hope you haven’t been ill?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I began to get quite worried.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It gave her pleasure to find that someone had troubled -to wonder what had happened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have given up my post, and so I have no reason -for starting out early.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His round eyes studied her attentively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that’s it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had sense enough not to begin by asking questions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was just going to take a breather round by the -Fields. Suppose you’re booked for something?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, why shouldn’t I tell you all about Christmas! -Jane’s coming to look you up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s very good of her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They started off together with a tacit acceptance of -the situation, Mr. Parfit showing an elaborate politeness -in taking the outside of the pavement. His whole air was -that of a cheery and paternal bachelor on his very best -and most benignant behaviour. And Eve, without knowing -quite why, trusted him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We had a gorgeous time down at Croydon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m so glad. I enjoyed the chocolates and the books. -I suppose the sugar-box was a great success?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather! I had a joke with the kids. I had two lots -of presents, one lot on top, the other down below. Up -above there were two pairs of socks for Percy, a prayer-book -for Fred, a box of needles and cottons for Beatie, -and a goody-goody book for Mab. You should have seen -their faces, and the way the little beggars tried to gush -and do the polite. ‘Oh, uncle, it’s just what I wanted!’ -But it was all right down below. They found the right -sort of loot down there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve laughed, and was surprised at the spontaneity of -her own laughter. She had not laughed like that for many -weeks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you must be a delightful uncle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, do you, really? It really makes it seem worth -doing, you know. You’d like the kids.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sure I should.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re little sports, the lot of them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She found presently that he was trying to turn the -conversation towards herself, and he manœuvred with more -delicacy than she had imagined him to possess. She met -the attempt by making a show of frankness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not like my berth, so I threw it up. Meanwhile -I am trying to do a little business in paintings -and fashion plates, while I look out for something else.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Suppose you are rather particular?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to take just anything that comes, if I -can help it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course not. You’ve got brains.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t do the ordinary things that women are supposed -to do—type and write shorthand and keep books.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She noticed that his expression had grown more -serious.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re all for utility in these days, you know. -Beastly unromantic world. We can only get our adventures -by reading novels. I’m sorry for the girls who have -to work. They don’t get fair opportunities, or a fair -starting chance, except the few who can afford to spend a -little money on special education. It’s no fun supplying -cheap labour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He drew a very deep and mind-deciding breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No offence meant, but if I can be of use at any -time, just give me the word.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s very kind of you to say that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense, not a bit of it. We are both workers, -aren’t we?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some days Eve got panic. A great cloud shadow -seemed to be drifting towards her, and already she felt it -chilling her, and shutting out the sunlight. She asked -herself what was going to happen if she spent all her -capital before she found a means of earning money regularly, -and she lay awake at night, plotting all manner of schemes. -Her sense of loneliness and isolation became a black cupboard -into which Fate shut her ever and again as a harsh -nurse shuts up a disobedient child. She thought of leaving -Bosnia Road and of moving into cheaper quarters, and she -cut her economies to the lowest point. Even Mrs. Buss’s -face reflected her penuriousness, for the florid woman was -less succulently urbane, and showed a tendency to be curt -and off-hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had begun to realise what a great city meant, -with its agonies and its struggles. It was like a huge -black pool in which one went drifting round and round -with thousands of other creatures, clutching at straws, and -even at other struggling things in the effort to keep afloat. -There was always the thought of the ooze below, and the -horror of submergence. Sometimes this troubled mind-picture -reminded her of the wreck of the Titanic, with -hundreds of little black figures swarming like beetles in -the water, drowning each other in the lust to live. It -was when the panic moods seized her that she was troubled -by these morbid visions, for one loses one’s poise at such -times, and one’s fears loom big and sinister as through -a fog.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had sold one picture in a fortnight, and it had -brought her exactly three and sixpence. Her fashion-plates -were returned. The various agencies were able to offer -her situations as a domestic servant, the reality being -indecently disguised under the description of “lady help.” -She rebelled at the suggestion, and even a panic mood could -not reduce her to considering that particular form of slavery, -her pride turning desperate and aggressive, and crying out -that it would be better for her to indulge in any sort of -adventure, to turn suffragette and break windows, rather -than go into some middle-class household as an anomaly, -and be the victim of some other woman’s moods and -prejudices.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Certain assertions that Canterton had made to her -developed a sharp and vital significance. It ought not to -be necessary for sensitive women to have to go down and -work in the shambles. Money is a protective covering; -art a mere piece of beautiful flimsiness that cannot protect -the wearer from cold winds and contempt. The love of -money is nothing more than the love of life and the harmony -of full self-expression. Only amazing luck or a curious -concatenation of coincidences can bring ability to the forefront -when that ability starts with an empty pocket. -People do not want art, but only to escape from being -bored. Most of those who patronise any form of art do -so for the sake of ostentation, that their money and their -success may advertise themselves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She realised now what she had lost in abandoning that -life at Fernhill, and she looked back on it as something -very near the ideal, green, spacious, sympathetic, free from -all the mean and petty anxieties, a life wherein she could -express all that was finest in her, without having to -dissipate her enthusiasm on the butter-dish or the coal-box. -It had meant protection and comradeship. She was sufficiently -human in a feminine sense to feel the need of -them, and there was a sufficiency of the clinging spirit -in her to make her regret that she had gained a so-called -independence. She was nearer now to discovering why some -women are loved and others ignored. Evolution has taught -the male to feel protective, and the expressing of this -protective tenderness provides man with one of the most -beautifying experiences that life can give. The aggressive -and independent woman may satisfy a new steel-bright -pride, but she has set herself against one of the tendencies -of Nature. Argue as one may about evolving a new atmosphere, -of redistributing the factors of life, this old fact -remains. The aggressive and independent woman will never -be loved in the same way. No doubt she will protest -that her aim is to escape from this conception of love—sexual -domination, that is what it has been dubbed, and -rightly so in the multitude of cases. But a cloud of -contentions cannot damp out the under-truth. The newmade -woman will never challenge all that is best in man. -She will continue to remain in ignorance of what man is.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even in her panic moments Eve could not bring herself -to write to Canterton. She felt that she could not reopen -the past, when it was she who had closed it. She recoiled -from putting herself in a position that might make it -possible for him to offer her money.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One of the hardest parts of it all was that she had -to live the whole time with her anxious economies. She -could not afford to escape from them, to pay to forget. A -shilling was a big consideration, a penny every bit a penny. -Once or twice, when she was feeling particularly miserable, -she let herself go to the desperate extent of a half-crown -seat in the pit. And the next day she would regret the -extravagance, and lunch on a scone and a glass of milk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Mr. Parfit appeared in the light of a provider -of amusements. One Thursday evening she had a note -from him, written in his regular, commercial hand.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Miss Carfax</span>,—I have three dress-circles for a -matinée of ‘The Lost Daughter’ on Saturday afternoon. -Jane is coming up from Croydon. Will you honour me by -joining us? We might have a little lunch at Frascati’s -before the theatre. I shall be proud if you accept, and I -want you to meet Jane.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:6em;'>“Very sincerely yours,</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-bottom:1em;'>“<span class='sc'>John Parfit</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>She did accept, glad to escape from herself for an afternoon, -and refusing to ask herself any serious questions. -Mr. Parfit was in great spirits. Eve discovered “Sister -Jane” to be a stout, blonde, good-humoured woman with -an infinite capacity for feeling domestic affection. She -studied Eve with feminine interest, and meeting her brother’s -eyes, smiled at him from time to time with motherly -approval.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The play was a British Public play, sentimentally -sexual, yet guardedly inoffensive. Eve enjoyed it. She -found that John Parfit had to use his handkerchief, and -that he became thick in the throat. She did not like -him any the less for being capable of emotion. It seemed -to be part of his personality.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Afterwards they had tea together, and Mr. Parfit’s -benevolence became tinged with affectionate playfulness. -He made jokes, teased his sister, and tried to make Eve -enter into a guessing competition as to which fancy cakes -each would choose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She appreciated his discretion when he put her in a -taxi, gave the driver four shillings, and packed her off -to Bosnia Road. He himself was going to see Jane off -at Charing Cross. Also, he and Jane had something to -discuss.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, old thing, how does she strike you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m a cautious soul, John, but I’m a woman, and -we’re quick about other women. She’s the right stuff, -even if she’s clever, and a little proud. It doesn’t do a -girl any harm to have a little pride. Fine eyes, too, and -good style.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I knew you’d think that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you now? What do you know about women, -you great big baby?”</p> - -<hr class='tbk127'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c30'></a>CHAPTER XXX</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>MORE EXPERIENCES</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>January and February passed, and Eve’s capital dwindled -steadily, with no very obvious prospect of her being able -to replenish it. She sold three more small pictures, and -had one or two dress designs accepted by a woman’s -journal, but these fragments of good fortune were more -than counterbalanced by a piece of knavish luck. One wet -day, just as it was getting dusk, she had her vanity-bag -snatched from her. It contained five pounds that she had -drawn from the bank about half an hour before. She never -had another glimpse of the bag or of the thief. Her -balance had been reduced now to sixteen pounds, and all -that she had foreseen in her panic moods seemed likely -to be fulfilled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her diet became a diet of milk and buns, tea, stale -eggs, and bread and butter. She spent nothing on dress, -and wore her shoes long after they should have gone to -the cobbler. She planned to do most of her own washing -at home, drying it in front of her sitting-room fire, and -putting up with the moist, steamy smell and her landlady’s -contemptuous face. Mrs. Buss’s affability was beginning -to wear very thin, for it was a surface virtue at its best. -Poverty does not always inspire that human pity that we -read of in sentimental stories. Primitive peoples have a -horror of sickness and death, and civilisation has developed -in many of us a similar horror of tragic poverty. It is to -be found both in people who have struggled, and in those -who have never had to struggle, and Mrs. Buss belonged -to the former class. To her, poverty was a sour smell -that associated itself with early and bitter memories. It -brought back old qualms of mean dread and envy. She -had learnt to look on poverty as a pest, and anyone who -was contaminated with it became a source of offence. She -recognised all the symptoms in Eve’s pathetic little economies, -and straightway she began to wish her out of the -house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve noticed that Mrs. Buss’s voice became a grumbling -murmur when she heard her talking to her son. Intuition -attached a personal meaning to these discontented reverberations, -and intuition was not at fault.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t slaved all my life to let rooms to people -who can’t pay! I know how the wind blows! She’s -getting that mean, meat once a week, and a scuttle of -coal made to last two days! Next thing’ll be that she’ll -be getting ill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Albert was not interested, and his mother’s grumblings -bored him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why don’t you turn her out?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall have to wait till she’s short with her week’s -money. And then, you may have to wait a month or two -before you can get another let. It’s a noosance and a -shame.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve began to answer the advertisements in one or two -daily papers, and to spend a few shillings in advertising on -her own account. The results were not encouraging. It -seemed to be a meaner world than she had imagined it -to be, for people wanted to buy her body and soul for -less than was paid to an ordinary cook. In fact, a servant -girl was an autocrat, a gentlewoman a slave. She rebelled. -She refused to be sweated—refused it with passion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She advertised herself as willing to give painting lessons, -but nothing came of it, save that one of her advertisements -happened to catch Mr. Parfit’s eyes. Sister Jane had -called, and her brother had taken Eve twice to a theatre, -and once to a concert. He dared to question her solicitously -about the ways and means of life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How are you getting along, you know? Don’t mind -me, I’m only everybody’s uncle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She did not tell him the worst.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t quite get the thing I want.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How many people are doing what they want to?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not many.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One in a hundred. I wanted to be a farmer, and -I’m stuck on a stool. We grumble and grouse, but we -have to put on the harness. Life’s like that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was looking thin and ill, and he had noticed it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait a bit. Seems to me I shall have to play the -inquiring father. You’re not playing the milk and bun -game, are you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked indignant, yet sympathetic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s just what you women do, mess up your -digestions with jam and tea and cake. A doctor told me -once that he had seen dozens of girls on the edge of -scurvy. You must feed properly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I get all I want.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His kindly, emotional nature burst into flame.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, Miss Carfax, you’ve just got to tell me if -you’re wanting any sympathy, sympathy of the solid sort, -I mean. Don’t stand on ceremony. I’m a man before -I’m a ceremony.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She found herself flushing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you so much. I understand. I will tell you if -I ever want to be helped.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Promise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s a dear, good girl.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Buss’s prophetic pessimism was justified by the -event. Raw weather, leaky shoes and poor food may have -helped in the overthrow, but early in March Eve caught -influenzal pneumonia. The whole house was overturned. -A trained nurse followed the doctor, and the nurse had -to be provided with a bed, Mr. Albert Buss being reduced -to sleeping on a sitting-room sofa. His mother’s grumbling -now found a more ready echo in him. What was the -use of making oneself uncomfortable for the benefit of a -nurse who was plain and past thirty, and not worth meeting -on the stairs?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Buss grumbled at the extra housework and the -additional cooking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just my luck. Didn’t I say she’d get ill? She’ll -have to pay me more a week for doing for the nurse and -having my house turned upside down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But for the time being Eve was beyond the world of -worries, lost in the phantasies of fever, dazed by day, and -delirious at night. She was bad, very bad, and even the -bored and harassed middle-class doctor allowed that she was -in danger, and might need a second nurse. But at the end -of the second week the disease died out of her, and she -became sane and cool once more, content to lie there in a -state of infinite languor, to think of nothing, and do -nothing but breathe and eat and sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She found flowers on the table beside her bed. John -Parfit had sent them. He had discovered that she was -seriously ill, and he had been calling twice a day to -inquire. Every evening a bunch of flowers, roses, violets, -or carnations, was brought up to her, John Parfit leaving -them at Bosnia Road on his way home from the City.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve would lie and look at the flowers without realising -all that they implied. Illness is often very merciful to those -who have cares and worries. It dulls the consciousness, -and brooking no rival, absorbs the sufferer into a daze of -drowsiness and dreams. The body, in its feverish reaction -to neutralise the poison of disease, is busy within itself, -and the mind is drugged and left to sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As her normal self returned to her, Eve began to cast -her eyes upon the life that had been broken off so abruptly, -and she discovered, to her surprise, that the things that had -worried her no longer seemed to matter. She felt numb, -lethargic, too tired to react to worries. She knew now -that she had not been far from death, and the great shadow -still lay near to her, blotting out all the lesser shadows, -so that they were lost in it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All the additional expense that she was incurring, the -presence of the nurse, John Parfit’s flowers, Mrs. Buss’s -grumbling voice, all these phenomena seemed outside the -circle of reality. She recognised them, without reacting to -them. So benumbed was she that the idea of spending -so much money did not frighten her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She managed to write a cheque, and the nurse cashed -it for her when she went for her daily walk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Buss’s accounts were asked for and sent up, and -Eve did not feel one qualm of distress when she glanced -at the figures and understood that her landlady was -penalising her mercilessly for being ill. She paid Mrs. -Buss, and turned her attention to the doctor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You won’t mind my mentioning it, but I shall be very -grateful if you will let me know what I owe you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was a thin man, with a head like an ostrich’s, -and a jerky, harassed manner. Struggle was written deep -all over his face and person. His wife inked out the -shiny places on his black coat, and he walked everywhere, -and did not keep a carriage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s all right, that’s all right!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I am serious. You see, with a limited income, -one likes to meet things as they come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well, if it will please you. But I haven’t quite -finished with you yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know. But you won’t forget?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Poor devil! He was not in a position to forget anyone -who owed him money.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The nurse went, having swallowed up six guineas. -The doctor’s bill came in soon after Eve had moved -downstairs to her sitting-room. It amounted to about -three pounds, and Eve paid it by cheque. Another weekly -bill from Mrs. Buss confronted her, running the doctor’s -account to a close finish. Eve realised, after scribbling a few -figures, that she was left with about four pounds to her -credit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was astonished at her own apathy. This horror that -would have sent a chill through her a month ago, now -filled her with a kind of languid and cynical amusement. -The inertia of her illness was still upon her, dulling the -more sensitive edge of her consciousness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A week after she had come downstairs she went out -for her first walk. It was not altogether a wise proceeding, -especially when its psychological effects showed -themselves. She walked as far as Highbury Corner, felt -the outermost ripples of the London mill-pond, and promptly -awoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That night she had a relapse and was feverish, but -it was no longer a restful, drowsy fever, but a burning -and anxious torment. Life, the struggling, fitful, mean, -contriving life was back in her blood, with all its dreads -intensified and exaggerated. She felt the need of desperate -endeavour, and was unable to stir in her own cause. It -was like a dream in which some horror approaches, and -one is unable to run away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was another week in bed, but she did not send -for the doctor. And at the end of the week she met -Mrs. Buss’s last bill. It left her with three shillings and -fourpence in cash.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In seven days she would be in debt to her landlady, -to the red-faced, grumbling woman whose insolent dissatisfaction -was already showing itself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Well, how was she to get the money? What was she -to do?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was the sign of the Three Balls. She had a -few rings and trinkets and her mother’s jewellery, such as -it was. Also, she could dispose of the studio.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lastly, there was John Parfit—John Parfit, who was -still sending her flowers. She had had a note from him. -He wanted to be allowed to come and see her.</p> - -<hr class='tbk128'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c31'></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE BOURGEOIS PLAYS THE GENTLEMAN</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Saturday on which John Parfit came to see Eve -was one of those premature spring days that makes one listen -for the singing of birds. The little front garden was full -of sunlight, and a few crocuses streaked the brown earth -under the window. The Bourgeois arrived with a great -bunch of daffodils, their succulent stems wrapped in blue -tissue paper.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, how are you now? How are you? Brought -you a few flowers!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was shy with the shyness of a big, good-natured -creature who was slow to adapt himself to strange surroundings. -A feminine atmosphere had always rendered -John Parfit nervous and inarticulate. He could talk like a -politician in an office or a railway carriage, but thrust -him into a drawing-room with a few women, and he became -voiceless and futile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, how are we?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He put his top-hat on the table, and stood the flowers -in it as though it were a vase.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But your poor hat!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, what’s the matter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are such sappy things. I must thank you for -all the flowers. They helped me to get well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He removed the daffodils, and wandered round the room -till he found an empty pot that agreed to rid him of -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you bother—don’t you get up! I’ll settle them -all right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He came back to the fire, rubbing his hands and -smiling. The smile died a sudden death when he dared -to take his first good look at Eve, and with it much of -his self-consciousness seemed to vanish. He sat down -rather abruptly, staring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I say, you have had a bad time!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid I have.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked thin, and ill, and shadowy, and plain, and -her eyes were the eyes of one who was worried. A -tremulous something about her mouth, the droop of her -neck, the light on her hair, stirred in John Parfit an -inarticulate compassion. The man in him was challenged, -appealed to, touched.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I say, you’ve been bad, you know!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I’m getting better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re—you’re so white and thin!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke in an awed voice, his glance fixed on one -of her hands that rested on the arm of her chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wanted to have a talk, you know. But I shall -tire you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She heard him draw a big breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look here, I’m a fool at expressing myself, but you’ve -been having a bad time. I mean, as to the money. -Beastly thing money. I’ve guessed that. Seems impertinent -of me, but, by George! well, I can’t help it. It’s -upset me, seeing you like this. It’s made me start saying -something I didn’t mean to mention.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was out of breath, and sat watching her for one -dumb, inarticulate moment, his hands clenched between -his knees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look here, you may think me a fool, but I tell -you one thing, I can’t stand the thought of a girl like -you having to scrape and scramble. I can’t stand it. And -I shouldn’t have had the cheek, but for feeling like this. -I’ll just blurt it out. I’ve been thinking of it for weeks. -Look here, let me take care of you—for life, I mean. I’m -not a bad sort, and I don’t think I shall be a selfish -beast of a husband. There’s nothing I won’t do to make -you happy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sat on the edge of the chair, his hands still clenched -between his knees. As for Eve, she was distressed, touched, -and perhaps humbled. She told herself suddenly that she -had not faced this man fairly, that she had not foreseen -what she ought to have foreseen. The room felt close -and hot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I say, I haven’t offended you? It mayn’t seem -quite sporting, talking like this, when you’ve been ill, -but, by George! I couldn’t help it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She said very gently:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How could I be offended? Don’t you know that -you are doing me a very great honour?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I say, do you mean it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve saw a hand come out tentatively and then recede, -and in a flash she understood what the possible nearness -of this man meant to her. She shivered, and knew that -in the intimate physical sense he would be hopelessly -repellent. She could not help it, even though he had -touched her spiritually, and made her feel that there were -elements of fineness in him that were worthy of any -woman’s trust.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had been silent for some seconds, and his emotions -could not be stopped now that they were discovering -expression.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look here, I’m forty-six, and I’m going bald, but I’m -a bit of a boy still. I was made to be married, but -somehow I didn’t. I’ve done pretty well in business. I’ve -saved about seven thousand pounds, and I’m making nine -hundred a year. You ought to know. I’m ready to do -anything. We could take a jolly little house out somewhere—Richmond, -or Hampstead, say, the new garden place. And -I don’t know why we shouldn’t keep a little motor, or a -trap. Of course, I’m telling you this, because you ought -to know. I’m running on ahead rather, but it’s of no -consequence. I only want you to know what’s what.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was out of breath again, and she sat and stared -at the fire. His rush of words had confused her. It was -like being overwhelmed with food and water after one had -been dying of hunger and thirst and fear in a desert. His -essential and half pathetic sincerity went to her heart, nor -could she help her gratitude going out to him. Not -for a moment did she think of him as a fat, commonplace -sentimentalist, a middle-aged fool who fell over his -own feet when he tried to make love. He was more than -a good creature. He was a man who had a right to self-expression.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She rallied her will-power.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know what to say to you. I suppose I am -feeling very weak.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He rushed into self-accusation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There, I’ve been a selfish beast. I oughtn’t to have -come and upset you like this. But I couldn’t help -telling you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know. It hasn’t hurt me. But you have offered -me such a big thing, that I am trying to realise it all. -I don’t think I’m made for marriage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, don’t say that! I know I’m a blundering -idiot!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no, it is not you! It is marriage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t believe in marriage?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not that. I mean, for myself. I don’t think I could -make you understand why.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked puzzled and distressed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s my fault. I couldn’t do the thing delicately. -I’m clumsy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no. I have told you that it is not that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you think it over. Supposing we leave it till -you get stronger?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you are offering everything and I nothing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense! Besides, I don’t believe in marrying a -woman with money. I’d rather have the business on my -own back. Of course, I should settle two or three -thousand on you, you know, so that you would have a -little income for pin-money. I think that’s only fair to a -woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She coloured and felt guilty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you are more generous than fair. Don’t say -any more. I’ll—I’ll think it over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He got up and seized his hat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s it—that’s it. You think it over! I’m not one -of those fellows who thinks that a woman is going to -rush at him directly he says come. It means a lot to a -woman, a dickens of a lot. And you’re not quite yourself -yet, are you? It’s awfully good of you to have -listened.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He reached for her hand, bent over it with cumbrous -courtesy, and covered up a sudden silence by getting out -of the room as quickly as he could.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When John Parfit had gone, Eve lay back in her chair -with a feeling of intense languor. All the strength and -independence seemed to melt out of her, and she lay -like a tired child on the knees of circumstance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then it was that she was tempted—tempted in this -moment of weariness, by the knowledge that a way of -escape lay so very near. She had been offered a protected -life, food, shelter, a generous allowance, love, leisure, all that -the orthodox woman is supposed to desire. He was kind, -understanding in his way, reliable, a man whose common -sense was to be trusted, and he would take her away from -this paltry scramble, pilot her out of the crowd, and give -her an affection that would last. Her intuition recognised -the admirable husband in him. This middle-class man had a -rich vein of sentiment running through his nature, and he -was not too clever or too critical to tire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dusk began to fall, and the fire was burning low. It -was the hour for memories, and into the dusk of that -little suburban room, glided a subtle sense of other presences, -and she found herself thinking of Canterton and the child. -If she were to have a child like Lynette. But it could -not be Lynette—it could not be his child, the child of -that one man. She sat up, shocked and challenged. What -was she about to do? Sell herself. Promise to give something -that it was not in her power to give. Deceive a -man who most honestly loved her. It would be prostitution. -There was only one man living to whom she could -have granted complete physical comradeship. She was not -made to be touched by other hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She rose and lit the gas, and sat down at the table -to write a letter. She would tell John Parfit the truth; -put the shame of temptation out of her way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not a long letter, but it came straight from -her heart. No man could be offended by it—hurt by it. -It was human, honourable, a tribute to the man to whom -it was written.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she had addressed and stamped it, she rang the -bell for Mrs. Buss.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should be very much obliged if you could have -this posted for me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Buss was affable, having smelt matrimony and -safe money.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly, miss. I’ll send Albert down to the pillar-box. -Excuse me saying it; but you do look pounds -better. You’ve got quite a colour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And she went out, simpering.</p> - -<hr class='tbk129'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c32'></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>EVE DETERMINES TO LEAVE BOSNIA ROAD</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>After she had written to John Parfit, Eve kept the -promise she had made to Kate Duveen, but qualified her -confession by an optimism that took the sting out of the -truths that she had to tell. She made light of the Massinger -affair, even though she had some bitter things to say about -Miss Champion. “One learns to expect certain savageries -from the ordinary sort of man, but it shocks one when a -woman makes you bear all the responsibility, so that she -may not offend a patron. That was the really sordid part -of the experience.” She hinted vaguely that someone -wanted to marry her, but that she had no intention of -marrying. She made light of her illness, and wrote of her -financial experiences with cynical gaiety. “My landlady’s -face is a barometer that registers the state of my weather. -Of late, the mercury has been low. Another woman whom -I can manage to pity! Do not think that I am in a -parlous and desperate state. I want to go through these -experiences. They give one a sense of proportion, and teach -one the value of occasional recklessness. We are not half -reckless enough, we moderns. We are educated to be too -careful. In future, I may contemplate adventures.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is probable that John Parfit’s proposal and its psychological -effects on her rallied her pride, for she threw off the -lethargy of convalescence, and turned anew to meet necessity. -John Parfit had answered her letter by return, and he had -succeeded in fully living up to his ideal of what was -“sport.” “Playing the game,”—that is the phrase that -embodies the religion of many such a man as John -Parfit.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing could have made me admire you more than -the straight way you have written. Nothing like the truth. -It may be bitter, but it’s good physic. Well, I shall be -here. Think it over. It’s the afterwards in marriage that -counts, not the courting, and I’d do my best to make the -afterwards what it should be.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll let me see you sometimes, won’t you? I shan’t -bother you. I’m not a conceited ass, and I’ll wait and -take my chance.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>March winds and more sunshine were in evidence, -and the weather had a drier and more energetic temper. -Eve started out on expeditions. She took two rings, a gold -watch, and a coral necklace to a pawnshop in Holloway, -and raised three pounds on the transaction. It amused her, -tucking the pawn-ticket away in her purse. These last -refuges are supposed to have a touch of the melodramatic, -but she discovered that expectation had been harder to bear -than the reality, and that just as one is disappointed by -some eagerly longed for event, so the disaster that one -dreads turns out to be a very quiet experience, relieved -perhaps by elements of humour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She paid Mrs. Buss’s weekly bill, and studied the -woman’s recovered affability with cynical tolerance. Mrs. -Buss still believed her to be on the way towards matrimony, -and somehow a woman who is about to be married gains -importance, possibly because other women wonder what she -will make of that best and most problematical of states.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is easy to raise money on some article of value, -but it is a much harder matter to persuade people to offer -money in return for the activities that we call work. Eve -went the round of the agencies without discovering anything -that could be classed above the level of cheap labour. -There seemed to be no demand for artistic ability. At least, -she did not chance upon the demand if it happened to -exist. Her possibilities seemed to be limited to such posts -as lady help or companion, posts that she had banned as -the uttermost deeps of slavery. A factory worker was far -more free. She could still contemplate sinking some of her -pride, and starting life as a shop-girl, a servant, or a -waitress.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At one agency the manageress, whose lack of patience -made her tell the brusque truth on occasions, went so far -as to suggest that Eve might take a place as parlourmaid -in a big house. She had a smart figure and a good -appearance. Some people were dispensing with menservants, -and were putting their maids into uniform and making them -take the place of butler and footman. The position of such -a servant was preferable to the lot of a lady-help. Wouldn’t -Eve think it over?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve said she would. She agreed with the manageress -in thinking that there were gleams of independence in such -a life, especially when one had gained a character and -experience, learnt to look after silver and to know about -wines.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>None the less, she was discouraged and rebellious, and -on her way home after one of these expeditions, she fell -in with John Parfit. It was the man of six-and-forty who -blushed, not Eve. She had to help him over the stile of -his self-consciousness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I am ever so much better. Won’t you walk -a little way with me? I’ve had tea, and I thought of -having a stroll round the Fields.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He put himself at her side with laborious politeness, -and because of his shyness he could do nothing more -graceful than blurt out questions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Got what you want yet?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, not yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He frowned to himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not worrying, are you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m learning not to worry. Nothing is as bad as it -seems.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her curiously, puzzled, and troubled on -her account.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a matter of temperament. Perhaps you are not -one of the worrying sort.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I am. One finds that one can learn not to -worry about the things that just concern self. The thing -that does worry us is the thought that we may make other -people suffer any loss.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He said bluntly, “Bills?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In brief, bills. But I am perfectly solvent, and I -could get work to-morrow if I chose to take it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you don’t. It’s pride.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, pride.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He walked on beside her in his solid, broad-footed -way, staring straight ahead, and keeping silent for fully -half a minute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then he said abruptly:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It hasn’t made any difference, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was her turn to feel embarrassed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you understood——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I understood all right. But I want to say -just this, I respect you all the more for having been -straight with me, and if you’ll let me have a waiting -chance, I’ll make the best of it. I won’t bother you. -I’ve got a sense of proportion. I’m not the sort of man -a woman would get sentimental over in a hurry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes glimmered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are one of the best men I have ever met. In a -city of cads, it is good to find a man who has a sense -of honour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went very red, and seemed to choke something back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shan’t forget that in a hurry. But look here, put -the other thing aside, and let’s just think of ourselves as -jolly good friends. Now, I want you to let me do some -of the rough and tumble for you. I’m used to it. One -gets a business skin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not going to bother you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bosh! And if you happen to want—well, you know -what, any of the beastly stuff we pay our bills with——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She began to show her distress.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t, please. I know how generously you mean it -all, but I’m so made that I can’t bear to be helped, even -by you. Just now my pride is raw, and I want to go -alone through some of these experiences. You may think -it eccentric.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stared hard at nothing in particular.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know. I suppose it’s in the air. Women -are changing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, don’t believe that. It’s only some of the circumstances -of life that are changing, and we are altering -some of our methods. That’s what life is teaching me. -That’s why I want to go on alone. I shall learn so -much more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should have thought that most people would fight -shy of learning in such a school.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and that is why most of us remain so narrow -and selfish and prejudiced. We refuse to touch realities, -and we won’t understand. I want to understand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He walked on, expanding his chest, and looking as though -he were smothering a stout impulse to protest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right; I see. Anyway, I shall be round the -corner. You won’t forget that, will you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, for you have helped me already.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course. It always helps to be able to believe -in someone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Three days later Eve rang for Mrs. Buss and had an -interview with the woman. She was amused to find that -she herself had hardened perceptibly, and that she could -lock her sentiments away when the question was a question -of cash.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her frankness astonished Mrs. Buss.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to explain something to you. I mean to -stay here for another three weeks, but I have no more -money.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The landlady gaped, not knowing whether this was -humour or mere barefaced self-confidence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re going to be married, then?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You say you haven’t any money, and you expect -me——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is the studio.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A shed like that’s no use to me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It cost me about twenty-five pounds, with the stove -and fittings, and it is only a few months old. It is made -to take to pieces. Shall I sell it, or will you? I was -thinking that it might be worth your while.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Buss discovered glimmerings of reason. An -incipient, sly smile glided round her mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I see! You think I could drive a better -bargain?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The middle-class nature was flattered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll be owing me about four pounds ten. And -we might get twelve or thirteen pounds for the studio.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was studio now, not shed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. I shall pay your bill, and give you a fifteen per -cent. commission on the sale. Do you know anyone who -might buy it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not so sure, miss, that I don’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Buss’s eyes were so well opened that she put -on her bonnet, went round to a local builder’s, and, telling -him a few harmless fibs, persuaded him to buy the studio -and its stove for thirteen pounds ten. The builder confessed, -directly they had completed the bargain, that the -studio was the very thing a customer of his wanted. He said -he would look round next day and see the building, and -that if he found it all right, he would hand over the -money. He came, saw, and found nothing to grumble at, -and before the day was out he had resold the studio for -twenty pounds, stating blandly that it had originally cost -thirty-five pounds, and that it was almost new, and that the -gentleman had got a bargain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Buss brought the money to Eve, one five pound -note, eight sovereigns, and ten shillings in silver, and Eve -handed over four pounds, and the commission.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We can settle for any odds and ends when I go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you, miss. I may say you have treated me -very fairly, miss. And would you mind if I put up a card -in the window?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see, it’s part of my living. If one loses a week -or two, it’s serious.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So a card with “Apartments” printed on it went up -in Eve’s window, helping her to realise that the term of -her sojourn in Bosnia Road was drawing to a close.</p> - -<hr class='tbk130'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c33'></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>WOMAN’S WAR</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was during these last weeks at Bosnia Road that Eve -became fully conscious of that spirit of revolt that is one -of the dominating features of contemporary life, for she was -experiencing in her own person the thoughts and tendencies -of a great movement, suffering its discontents, feeling its -hopes and passions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she tried to analyse these tendencies in herself, -she was confronted with the disharmonies of her life, -disharmonies that reacted all the more keenly on a generous -and impulsive nature. She was necessary to nobody, not -even to the man who had thought that it would be -pleasant to marry her, for she knew that in a month he -would be as contented as ever with his old bachelor life. -She had no personal corner, no sacred place full of the -subtle and pleasant presence of the individual “I.” She -had none of the simple and primitive responsibilities that -provide many women with a natural and organic satisfaction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A new class had arisen, the class of the unattached -working women, and she was sharing the experiences of -thousands. It was a sense of defencelessness that angered -her. She had no weapon. She could only retaliate upon -society by shutting her mouth and holding her head a little -higher. Her individuality was threatened. She was denied -the chance of living a life of self-expression, and was told -with casual cynicism that she must do such work as society -chose to offer her, or starve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of course, there were the chances of escape, the little, -secret, fatal doorways that men were willing to leave open. -Some women availed themselves of these opportunities, nor -was Eve so prejudiced as to imagine that all women -were martyrs and less hot blooded than the men. She -had had the same doors opened to her. She might have -become a mistress, or have married a man who was -physically distasteful to her, and she understood now why -many women were so bitter against anything that was -male. It was not man, but the sex spirit, and all its -meaner predilections.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ninety-nine men out of a hundred concerned themselves -with nothing but a woman’s face and figure. They reacted -to physical impressions, and Eve realised the utter naturalness -of it all. The working woman had got outside the -old conventions. She was trying to do unsexual things, -and to talk an unsexual language to men who had not -changed. It was like muddling up business and sentiment, -and created an impossible position, so long as the male -nature continued to react in the way it did. Sexual solicitation -or plain indifference, these were the two extreme fates -that bounded the life of the working woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve told herself that there were exceptions, but that -society, in the mass, moved along these lines. She had -listened to Kate Duveen—Kate Duveen, who was a fanatic, -and who had made it her business to look into the conditions -under which working women lived. The shop-girl, -the servant, the waitress, the clerk, the typist, the chorus-girl, -the street-walker; always they held in their hands -the bribe that men desired, that bribe so fatal to the woman -when once it had been given. Eve began to understand -the spirit of revolt by the disgust that was stirred in her -own heart. This huge sexual machine. This terrible, -primitive groundwork upon which all the shades of civilisation -were tagged like threads of coloured silk. There was -some resemblance here between the reaction of certain women -against sex, and the reaction of the early Christians against -the utter physical smell of the Roman civilisation. To -live, one must be born again. One must triumph over -the senses. One must refuse to treat with men on the -old physical understanding. They are the cries of -extremists, and yet of an extremity that hopes to triumph -by urging a passionate and protesting celibacy. A million -odd women in the United Kingdom, over-setting the sex -balance, and clamouring, many of them, that they will not -be weighed in the old sexual scale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve caught the spirit of rebellion, divorced as she was -from any comradeship with men. It is so much easier to -quarrel with the hypothetical antagonists whom one meets -in the world of one’s own brain. Bring two prejudiced -humans together, get them to talk like reasonable beings, -and each may have some chance of discovering that the -other is not the beast that he or she had imagined. It is -when masses of people segregate and refuse to mix that -war becomes more than probable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Insensibly, yet very surely, Eve began to imbibe this -feeling of antagonism. It made her take sides, even when -she happened to read the account of some law case in the -paper. And this tacit antagonism abetted her in her refusal -to accept the cheap labour that society, “male society,” she -called it, chose to offer her. It behoved women to stand -out against male exploitation, even if they had to suffer -for the moment. Yet her revolt was still an individual -revolt. She had not joined herself to the crowd. She -wanted to complete her personal experiences before associating -herself with the great mass of discontent, and she -meant to go through to the end—to touch all the realities. -Perhaps she was a little feverish in her sincerity. She had -been ill. She had been badly fed. She had been worried, -and she was in a mood that demanded that specious sort -of realism that is to the truth what a statue is to the -living body.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her last morning at Bosnia Road turned out to be -warm and sunny. She was ready to smile at contrasts, and -to draw them with a positive and perverse wilfulness. -Breakfast was just like other breakfasts, only different. -The brown teapot with the chip out of its lid stood -there, familiar yet ironical. The marmalade dish, with its -pinky roses and silver-plated handle that was wearing -green, reminded her that it would meet her eyes no more. -The patchwork tea-cosy was like a fat and sentimental -old lady who was always exclaiming, “Oh, dear, what a -wicked world it is!” Even the egg-cup, with its smudgy -blue pattern, had a ridiculous individuality of its own. Eve -felt a little emotional and more than a little morbid, and -ready to laugh at herself because a teapot and an egg-cup -made her moralise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had packed all her belongings, paid Mrs. Buss, and -ordered a “growler” to call at half-past ten. The cabman -was punctual. He came into the narrow hall, rubbing his -boots on the doormat, a cheerful ancient, a bolster of -clothes, and looking to be in perpetual proximity to breathlessness -and perspiration. He laid his old top-hat on the -floor beside the staircase, and went up to struggle with -Eve’s boxes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Buss had let Eve’s rooms, and had nothing to -complain of. For the time being her attention was concentrated -on seeing that the cabman did not knock the -paint off the banisters.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do be careful now!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A red-faced man was descending under the shadow of -a big black trunk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right, mum. Don’t you worry, mum!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He breathed hard and diffused a scent of the stable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Them chaps as builds ’ouses don’t think of the luggidge -and foornitoore. ’Old up, there!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A corner of the trunk jarred against the wall and left -a gash in the paper. Mrs. Buss made a clucking sound -with her tongue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There, didn’t I say!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did I touch anythink?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, mind the hat-stand! And the front door was -painted three months ago.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you worry, mum. It ain’t the first time luggidge -and me ’as gone out walkin’ together!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Buss turned to Eve who was standing in the -sitting-room doorway.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s just the British working-man to a T. He -earns his living by doing one thing all his life, and he -does it badly. My poor husband found that out before -he died. I do hope I’ve made you feel comfortable and -homely? I always try to do my best.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sure you do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was glad when the loading up business was over, -and she was driving away between the dull little houses.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had written to book a room at a cheap hotel in -Bloomsbury, an hotel that had been brought into being by -the knocking together of three straight-faced, dark-bricked -old houses. She drove first to the hotel, left a light -trunk and a handbag there, and then ordered the cabman to -go on to Charing Cross where she left the rest of her -luggage in the keeping of the railway company.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A sudden sense of freedom came over her when she -walked out of the station enclosure, after paying and tipping -the driver of the growler, who was surprised at the amount -of the tip. She had been delivered from suburbia, and her -escape from Bosnia Road made her the more conscious -of the largeness and the stimulating complexity of life. -She felt a new exhilaration, and a sense of adventure that -glimpsed more spacious happenings. It was more like the -mood that is ascribed to the young man who rides out -alone, tossing an audacious sword.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve decided to treat herself to a good lunch for once, -and she walked to Kate Duveen’s Italian restaurant in -Soho, and amplified and capped the meal with a half -bottle of claret, coffee, and a liqueur. She guessed that -she had plenty of Aerated Bread shop meals before her. -After lunch she took a motor-bus to the Marble Arch, -wandered into the park, and down to the Serpentine, and -discovering an empty seat, took the opportunity of reviewing -her finances. She found that she had five pounds -sixteen shillings and fivepence left. The Bloomsbury hotel -charged four and sixpence for bed and breakfast, and she -would be able to stay there for some three weeks, if she -had the rest of her meals at tea-shops and cheap restaurants.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve sat there for an hour, watching the glimmer of the -water and the moving figures, growing more and more -conscious of the vast, subdued murmur that drifted to her -from beyond the bare trees. Neither the pitch nor the -volume of the sound varied, though it was pierced now -and again by the near note of a motor horn. The murmur -went on and on, grinding out its under-chant that was -made up of the rumbling of wheels, the plodding of hoofs, -the hooting of horns, the rattle and pant of machinery, -the voices of men and women. This green space seemed -a spot of silence in the thick of a whirl of throbbing, -quivering movement. She had always hated London traffic, -but to-day it had something to say to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sun shone, the spring was in, and it was warm -there, sitting on the seat. The water blinked, sparrows -chirped, waterfowl uttered their cries, children played, -daffodils were in bloom. Eve felt herself moving suddenly -to a fuller consciousness of modern life. Her brain seemed -to pulsate with it, to glow with a new understanding.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Conquest! She could understand the feverish and half -savage passion for conquest that seized many men. To -climb above the crowd, to get money, to assert one’s -individuality, brutally perhaps, but at all costs and against -all comers. People got trampled on, trodden under. It was -a stampede, and the stronger and the more selfish animals -survived. Yet society had some sort of legal conscience. -It had to make some show of clearing up its rubbish -and its wreckage. The pity of it was that there was so -much “afterthought,” when “forethought” might have -saved so much disease and disaster.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She pictured to herself all those women and girls -working over yonder, the seamstresses and milliners, the -clerks, typists, shop-girls, waitresses, factory hands, <span class='it'>filles -de joie</span>—what a voiceless, helpless crowd it seemed. Was -the clamour for the vote a mere catch cry, one of those -specious demagogic phrases that pretended to offer so much -and would effect so little? Was it not the blind, passionate -cry of a mass of humanity that desired utterance and -yearned for self-expression? Could anything be altered, or -was life just a huge, fateful phenomenon that went its -inevitable way, despite all the talk and the fussy little -human figures? She wondered. How were things going -to be bettered? How were the sex spirit and the commercial -spirit going to be chastened and subdued?</p> - -<hr class='tbk131'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c34'></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>EVE PURSUES EXPERIENCE</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the next two weeks Eve’s moods fluctuated between -compassionate altruism and bitter and half laughing scorn. -Life was so tremendous, so pathetic, so strenuous, so -absurd. For the time being she was a watcher of other -people’s activities, and she spent much of her time tramping -here, there and everywhere, interested in everything because -of her new prejudices. She was glad to get out of the -hotel, since it was full of a certain type of American tourists—tall, -sallow women who talked in loud, harsh voices, chiefly -about food and the digestion of food, where they had -been, and what they had paid for things. The American -man was a new type to Eve—a mongrel still in the making. -The type puzzled and repelled her with its broad features, -and curious brown eyes generally seen behind rimless glasses. -Sometimes she sat and watched them and listened, and -fancied she caught a note of hysterical egoism. Their laughter -was not like an Englishman’s laughter. It burst out -suddenly and rather fatuously, betraying, despite all the -jaw setting and grim hunching of shoulders, a lack of the -deeper restraints. They were always talking, always squaring -themselves up against the rest of the world, with a neurotic -self-consciousness that realised that it was still only half -civilised. They suggested to Eve people who had set out -to absorb culture in a single generation, and had failed -most grotesquely. She kept an open mind as to the men, -but she disliked the women wholeheartedly. They were -studies in black and white, and crude, harsh studies, with -no softness of outline.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One Sunday she walked to Hyde Park and saw some -of the suffragist speakers pelted with turf by a rowdily -hostile crowd. The occasion proved to be critical, so far -as some of her tendencies were concerned. Militancy had -not appealed to her. There was too much of the “drunk -and disorderly” about it, too much spiteful screaming. -It suggested a reversion to savage, back-street methods, -and Eve’s pride had refused to indulge in futile and -wholly undignified exhibitions of violence. There were -better ways of protesting than by kicking policemen’s shins, -breaking windows, and sneaking about at midnight setting -fire to houses. Yet when she saw these women pelted, -hooted at, and threatened, the spirit of partisanship fired -up at the challenge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was on the outskirts of the crowd, and perhaps -her pale and intent face attracted attention. At all events, -she found a lout, who looked like a young shop-assistant, -standing close beside her, and staring in her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Votes for women!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His ironical shout was an accusation, and his eyes -were the eyes of a bully. And of a sudden Eve understood -what it meant for a woman to have to stand up -and face the coarse male element in the crowd, all the -young cads who were out for horseplay. She was conscious -of physical fear; a shrinking from the bestial thoughtlessness -of a mob that did things that any single man -would have been ashamed to do.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fellow was still staring at her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, then, ‘Votes for Women!’ Own up!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He jogged her with his elbow, and she kept a scornful -profile towards him, though trembling inwardly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Someone interposed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You there, leave the young lady alone! She’s only -listening like you and me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The aggressor turned with a snarl, but found himself -up against a particularly big workman dressed in his -Sunday clothes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re an old woman yourself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go home and sell stockings over the counter, and -leave decent people alone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve thanked the man with a look, and turned out of -the crowd. The workman followed her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“’Scuse me, miss, I’ll walk to the gates with you. -There are too many of these young blackguard fools about.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you very much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve got a lot of sympathy with the women, but -seems to me some of ’em are on the wrong road.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked at him interestedly. He was big and fresh -coloured and quiet, and reminded her in his coarser way -of James Canterton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You think so?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It don’t do to lose your temper, even in a game, -and that’s what some of the women are doing. We’re -reasonable sort of creatures, and it’s no use going back -to the old boot and claw business.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What they say is that they have tried reasoning, -and that men would not listen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s rot! Excuse me, miss. You’ve got to give -reason a chance, and a pretty long chance. Do you think -we working men won what we’ve got in three months? -You have to go on shoving and shoving, and in the end, -if you’ve got common sense on your side, you push the -public through. You can’t expect things turned all topsy-turvy -in ten minutes, because a few women get up on -carts and scream. They ought to know better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They say it is the only thing that’s left.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His blue eyes twinkled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a bit of it, miss. The men were coming round. -We’re better chaps, better husbands and fathers than we -were a hundred years ago. You know, miss, a man ain’t -averse to a decent amount of pleasant persuasion. It -don’t do to nag him, or he may tell you to go to blazes. -Well, I wish you good afternoon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had reached the gates, and he touched the brim of -his hard hat, smiling down at her with shrewd kindness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m very grateful to you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He coloured up, and his smile broadened, and Eve -walked away down Oxford Street, doing some pregnant -thinking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man had reminded her of Canterton. What was -Canterton’s attitude towards this movement, and what was -her attitude to Canterton now that she had touched more -of the realities of life? When she came to analyse her -feelings she found that Canterton did not appear to exist -for her in the present. Fernhill and its atmosphere had -become prehistoric. It had removed into the Golden Age, -above and beyond criticism, and she did not include it in -this world of struggling prejudices and aspirations. And -yet, when she let herself think of Canterton and Lynette, -she felt less sure of the sex antagonism that she was -encouraging with scourge and prayer. Canterton seemed -to stand in the pathway of her advance, looking down -at her with eyes that smiled, eyes that were without -mockery. Moreover, something that he had once said to -her kept opposing itself to her arbitrary and enthusiastic -pessimism. She could remember him stating his views, -and she could remember disagreeing with him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had said, “People are very much happier than -you imagine. Sentimentalists have always made too much -of the woe of the world. There is a sort of thing I -call organic happiness, the active physical happiness of the -animal that is reasonably healthy. Of course we grumble, -but don’t make the mistake of taking grumbling for the -cries of discontented misery. I believe that most of the -miserable people are over-sensed, under-bodied neurotics. -They lack animal vitality. I think I can speak from -experience, since I have mixed a good deal with working -people. In the mass they are happy, much happier, perhaps, -than we are. Perhaps because they don’t eat too much, -and so think dyspeptically.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That saying of Canterton’s, “People are much happier -than you imagine” haunted Eve’s consciousness, walked at -her side, and would not suffer itself to be forgotten. She -had moments when she suspected that he had spoken a -great truth. He had told her once to read Walt Whitman, -but of what use was that great, barbaric, joyous person -to her in her wilful viewing of sociological problems? -It was a statement that she could test by her own observations, -this assertion that the majority of people are happy. -The clerks and shopmen who lunched in the tea-shops -talked hard, laughed, and made a cheerful noise. If she -went to the docks or Covent Garden Market, or watched -labourers at work in the streets, she seemed to strike a -stolid yet jocose cheerfulness that massed itself against -her rather pessimistic view of life. The evening crowds in -the streets were cheerful, and these, she supposed, were -the people who slaved in shops. The factory girls out for -the dinner hour were merry souls. If she went into one -of the parks on Sunday, she could not exactly convince -herself that she was watching a miserable people released -for one day from the sordid and hopeless slavery of toil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mass of people did appear to be happy. And -Eve was absurdly angry, with some of the prophet’s -anger, who would rather have seen a city perish than -that God should make him appear a fool. Her convictions -rallied themselves to meet the challenge of this -apparent fact. She contended that this happiness was a -specious, surface happiness. One had but to get below the -surface, to penetrate behind the mere scenic effects of -civilisation to discover the real sorrows. What of the -slums? She had seen them with her own eyes. What -of the hospitals, the asylums, the prisons, the workhouses, -the sweating dens, even the sordid little suburbs! She -was in a temper to pile Pelion on Ossa in her desire to -storm and overturn this serene Olympian assumption -that mankind in the mass was happy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In walking along Southampton Row into Kingsway, she -passed on most days a cheerful, ruddy-faced young woman -who sold copies of <span class='it'>Votes for Women</span>. This young woman -was prettily plain, but good to look at in a clean and -comely and sturdy way. Eve glanced at her each day -with the eyes of a friend. The figure became personal, -familiar, prophetic. She had marked down this young -woman who sold papers as a Providence to whom she -might ultimately appeal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It seemed to her a curious necessity that she should -be driven to try and prove that people were unhappy, -and that most men acted basely in their sexual relationships -towards women. This last conviction did not need -much proving.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Being in a mood that demanded fanatical thoroughness, -Eve played with the ultimate baseness of man, and made -herself a candle to the night-flying moths. She repeated -the experience twice—once in Regent Street, and once -in Leicester Square. Nothing but fanaticism could have -made such an experiment possible, and have enabled her -to outface her scorn and her disgust. Several men spoke -to her, and she dallied with each one for a few seconds -before letting him feel her scorn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spent the last night of her stay in the Bloomsbury -hotel sitting in the lounge and listening to three raucous -American women who were talking over their travels. They -had been to Algiers, Egypt, Italy, the South of France, -and of course to Paris. The dominant talker, who had -gorgeous yellow hair, not according to Nature, and whose -hands were always moving restlessly and showing off their -rings, seemed to remember and to identify the various -places she had visited by some particular sort of food -that she had eaten! “Siena, Siena. Wasn’t that the place, -Mina, where we had ravioli?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you go to Ré’s at Monte Carlo? It’s an experience -to have eaten at Ré’s.” “I shan’t forget the Nile. -The Arab boy made some bad coffee, and I was sick -in the stomach.” They went on to describe their various -hagglings with hotel-keepers, cabmen, and shop-people, and -the yellow-haired lady who wore “nippers” on a very thin-bridged, -sharp-pointed nose, had an exhilarating tale to tell -of how she had stood out against a Paris taxi-driver over -a matter of ten cents. Eve had always heard such lavish -tales of American extravagance, that she was surprised -to discover in these women the worst sort of meanness, -the meanness that contrives to be generous on a few -ostentatious occasions by beating all the lesser people’s -profits down to vanishing point. She wondered whether -these American women with their hard eyes, selfish mouths, -and short-fingered, ill-formed, grasping hands were typical -of this new hybrid race.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It amused her to contrast her own situation with -theirs. When to-morrow’s bill was paid, and her box -taken to Charing Cross station, she calculated that she -would have about twelve pence left in her purse. And -she was going to test another aspect of life on those -twelve pennies. It would not be ravioli, or luncheon -at Ré’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve packed up her box next morning, paid her bill, -and drove off to Charing Cross, where she left her box -in the cloak-room. She had exactly elevenpence left in -her purse, and it was her most serious intention to make -these eleven pennies last her for the best part of two -days. One thing that she had lost, without noticing it, -was her sense of humour. Fanaticism cannot laugh. Had -Simeon Stylites glimpsed but for a moment the comic -side of his existence, he would have come down off that -pillar like a cat off a burning roof.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day turned out to be a very tiring one for her, -and Eve found out how abominably uncomfortable London -can be when one has no room of one’s own to go to, -and no particular business to do. She just drifted about -till she was tired, and then the problem was to find -something upon which to sit. She spent the latter part -of the morning in the gardens below Charing Cross Station, -and then it began to rain. Lunch cost her threepence—half -a scone and butter, and a glass of milk. She dawdled -over it, but rain was still falling when she came out again -into the street. A station waiting-room appeared to be -her only refuge, for it was a sixpenny day at the National -Gallery, and as she sat for two hours on a bench, wondering -whether the weather was going to make the experiment -she contemplated a highly realistic and unpleasant test of -what a wet night was like when spent on one of the -Embankment seats.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The weather cleared about four o’clock, and Eve went -across to a tea-shop, and spent another threepence on a -cup of tea and a slice of cake. She had made a point -of making the most of her last breakfast at the hotel, -but she began to feel abominably hungry, with a hunger -that revolted against cake. After tea she walked to Hyde -Park, sat there till within half an hour of dusk, and then -wandered back down Oxford Street, growing hungrier and -hungrier. It was a very provoking sign of health, but if one -part of her clamoured for food, her body, as a whole, -protested that it was tired. The sight of a restaurant -made her loiter, and she paused once or twice in front -of some confectionery shop, and looked at the cakes in -the window. But sweet stuffs did not tempt her. They -are the mere playthings of people who are well fed. She -found that she had a most primitive desire for good -roast meat, beef for preference, swimming in brown gravy, -and she accepted her appetite quite solemnly as a phenomenon -that threw an illuminating light upon the problems -of existence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Exploring a shabbier neighbourhood she discovered a -cheap cook-shop with a steaming window and a good advertising -smell. There was a bill of fare stuck up in the -window, and she calculated that she could spend another -three pennies. Sausages and mashed potatoes were to be -had for that sum, and in five minutes she was sitting -at a wooden table covered with a dirty cloth, and helping -herself to mustard out of a cracked glass pot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was quite a carnal experience, and she came out -refreshed and much more cheerful, telling herself with naive -seriousness that she was splitting life up into its elements. -Food appeared to be a very important problem, and hunger -a lust whose strength is unknown save to the very few, -yet she was so near to her real self that she was on the -edge of laughter. Then it occurred to her that she was -not doing the thing thoroughly, that she had lapsed, that -she ought to have started the night hungry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was more time to be wasted, and she strolled -down Shaftesbury Avenue and round Piccadilly Circus -into Regent Street. The pavements were fairly crowded, -and the multitude of lights made her feel less lonely. -She loitered along, looking into shop windows, and she had -amused herself in this way for about ten minutes before -she became aware of another face that kept appearing near -to hers. She saw it reflected in four successive windows, -the face of an old man, spruce yet senile, the little moustache -carefully trimmed, a faint red patch on either cheek. The -eyes were turned to one side, and seemed to be watching -something. She did not realise at first that that something -was herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How are you to-night, dear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve stared straight through the window for some -seconds, and then turned and faced him. He was like Death -valeted to perfection, and turned out with all his senility -polished to the last finger nail. His lower eyelids were -baggy, and innumerable little veins showed in the skin -that looked tightly stretched over his nose and cheekbones. -He smiled at her, the fingers of one hand picking -at the lapel of his coat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad to see you looking so nice, dear. Supposing -we have a little dinner?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I beg your pardon. I think you must be rather -short-sighted!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She thought as she walked away, “Supposing I had -been a different sort of woman, and supposing I had -been hungry!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She made direct for the river after this experience, -and, turning down Charing Cross and under the railway -bridge, saw the long sweep of the darkness between the -fringes of yellow lights. There were very few people about, -and a raw draught seemed to come up the river. She -crossed to the Embankment and walked along, glancing over -the parapet at the vaguely agitated and glimmering surface -below. The huge shadow of the bridge seemed to take -the river at one leap. The lapping of the water was cold, -and suggestively restless.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she turned her attention to the seats. They -seemed to be full, packed from rail to rail with indistinct -figures that were huddled close together. All these figures -were mute and motionless. Once she saw a flutter of white -where someone was picking broken food out of a piece of -newspaper. And once she heard a figure speaking in a -monotonous grumbling voice that kept the same level.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Was she too late even for such a refuge? She walked -on and at last discovered a seat where a gap showed -between a man’s felt hat and a woman’s bonnet. Eve -paused rather dubiously, shrinking from thrusting herself -into that vacant space. She shrank from touching these -sodden greasy things that had drifted like refuse into some -sluggish backwater.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then a quiver of pity and of shame overcame her. -She went and thrust herself into the vacant place. The -whole seat seemed to wriggle and squirm. The man next -to her heaved and woke up with a gulp. Eve discovered -at once that his breath was not ambrosial.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She felt a hand tugging at something. It belonged to -the old woman next to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“’Ere, you’re sitting on it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I beg your pardon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She felt something flat withdrawn. It was a bloater -wrapped up in a bit of paper, but the woman did not -explain. She tucked the thing away behind her and relapsed. -The whole seat resettled itself. No one said anything. -Eve heard nothing but the sound of breathing, and the -noise made by the passing of an occasional motor, cab, -or train.</p> - -<hr class='tbk132'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c35'></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE SUFFRAGETTE</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>The night spent on the Embankment seat was less tragic -than squalidly uncomfortable. Wedged in there between those -hopeless other figures, Eve had to resist a nauseating sense -of their physical uncleanness, and to overcome instincts -that were in wholesome revolt. Her ears and nostrils did -not spare her. There was a smell of stale alcohol, a smell -of fish, a smell of sour and dirty clothes. Moreover, -the man who sat on her right kept rolling his head on to -her shoulder, his dirty felt hat rubbing her ear and cheek. -She edged him off rather roughly, and he woke up -and swore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What the —— are you shovin’ for?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After that she did not attempt to wake him again, -turning her face as far away as possible when his slobbery, -stertorous mouth puffed against her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As for the seat—well, it was her first experience -of sitting all night in one position, on a sort of unpadded -reality. Her back ached, her neck ached, her legs ached. -She was afraid of waking the man beside her, and the -very fact that she dared not move was a horror in itself. -She felt intolerably stiff, and her feet and hands were -cold. She found herself wondering what would happen if -she were to develop a desire to sneeze. Etiquette forbade -one to sneeze in such crowded quarters. She would wake -her neighbour and get sworn at.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then the tragic absurdity of the whole thing struck -her. It was absurd, but it was horrible. She felt an -utter loathing of the creatures on each side of her, and -her loathing raised in her an accusing anger. Who was -responsible? She asked the question irritably, only to -discover that in answering it she was attacked by a -disturbing suspicion that she herself, every thinking creature, -was responsible for such an absurdity as this. Physical -disgust proved stronger than pity. She reminded herself -that animals were better cared for. There were stables, -cowsheds, clean fields, where beasts could shelter under -trees and hedges. Worn-out horses and diseased cattle -were put out of the way. Why were not debauched -human cattle got rid of cleanly upon the same scientific -plan, for they were lower and far more horrible than -the beasts of the field.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was surprised that this should be what one such -night seemed destined to teach her. These people were -better dead. She could feel no pity at all for the beast -who snored on her shoulder. She could not consent to -justify his becoming what he was. Ill luck, fate, a bad -heritage, these were mere empty phrases. She only knew -that she felt contaminated, that she loathed these wretched, -greasy creatures with an almost vindictive loathing. Her -skin felt all of a creep, shrinking from their uncleanness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As to her visions of a regenerated civilisation, her -theoretical compassions, what had become of them? Was -she not discovering that even her ideals were personal, -selective, prejudiced? These people were beyond pity. -That was her impression. She found herself driven to -utter the cry, “For God’s sake let us clean up the world -before we begin to build up fresh ideas. This rubbish -ought to be put out of the way, burnt, or buried. What -is the use of being sentimental about it?” Pity held aloof. -She had a new understanding of Death, and saw him as -the great Cleanser, the Furnaceman who threw all the -unclean things into his destructor. What fools men were -to try and cheat Death of his wholesome due. The children -ought to be saved, the really valuable lives fought for; -but this gutter stuff ought to be cleaned up and got rid -of in grim and decent silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve never expected to sleep, but she slept for two -hours, and woke up just before dawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not a comfortable awakening. She felt cold and -stiff, and her body ached, and with the return of consciousness -came that wholesome horror of her neighbours, a -horror that had taught her more than all the sociological -essays she could have read in a lifetime. The man’s head -was on her shoulder. He still spluttered and blew in his -sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve decided to sit it out; to go through to the bitter -end. Moreover, she was curious to see the faces of these -people by daylight. A strange stillness prevailed; there was -no wind, and the river was running noiselessly. Once -or twice the sound of regular footsteps approached, and -the figure of a policeman loomed up and passed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A thin light began to spread, and the whole scene -about her became a study in grey. The sky was overcast, -canopied with ashen clouds that were ribbed here -and there with lines of amethyst and white. The city -seemed to rise out of a gloomy and mysterious haze, dim, -sad, and unreal. The massive buildings looked like vague -grey cliffs. The spires were blurred lines, leaden coloured -and unglittering. There had been a sprinkling of rain while -she had slept, for the pavements were wet and her clothes -damp to the touch. She shivered. It was so cold, and -still, and dreary.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The stillness had been only a relative stillness, for -there were plenty of sounds to be distinguished. A line -of vans rumbled over one of the bridges, a train steamed -into Charing Cross. She heard motor horns hooting in the -scattered distance, and she was struck by the conceit that -this was the dawn song of the birds of the city.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The light became hard and cold, and she wondered -when her neighbours would wake. A passing policeman -looked at her curiously, seemed inclined to stop, but -walked on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Turning her head she found she could see the face -of the man next to her. His old black bowler hat had -fallen off and lay on the pavement. Eve studied him, -fascinated by her own disgust, and by his sottish ugliness. -His skin was red, blotched, and pitted like an orange, -black hair a quarter of an inch long bristled over his -jowl and upper lip. His eyelids and nose were unmentionable. -He wore no collar, and as he lounged there she could -see a great red flabby lower lip jutting out like the lip -of a jug. His black hair was greasy. He was wearing -an old frock coat, whose lapels were all frayed and smeary, -as though he were in the habit of holding himself up -by them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve turned away with qualms of disgust, and glanced -at the old woman. Her face, as she slept, had an expression -of absurd astonishment, the eyebrows raised, the mouth -open. Her face looked like tallow in a dirty, wrinkled -bladder. She had two moles on one cheek, out of which -grey hairs grew. Her bonnet had fallen back, and her open -mouth showed a few rotten black teeth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A man at the end of the seat was the first to wake. -He sat up, yawned, and blew his nose on his fingers. -Then the sot next to Eve stirred. He stretched his legs, -rolled his head to one side, and, being still half asleep, -began to swear filthily in a thick, grumbling voice. Suddenly -he sat up, turned, and stared into Eve’s face. His red -brown eyes were angry and injected, the sullen, lascivious -eyes of a sot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good mornin’!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She caught the twinge of insolent raillery in his voice. -Even his brutishness was surprised by the appearance of -his neighbour, and he had a reputation for humour. Eve -looked away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He made facetious remarks, half directed to her, half -to the world at large.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Didn’t know I was in such —— genteel company. -Never had no luck. Suppose I’ve had m’ head on your -shoulder all night and didn’t know it. Didn’t kiss -me, did you, while I was sleeping like an innocent -babe?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Another face peered round at her, grinning. Then the -old woman woke up, snuffled, and wiped her mouth on the -back of her hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bin rainin’, of course?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve said that she thought it had. The old woman’s -eyes seemed to be purblind, and without curiosity. A -sudden anxiety stole over her face. She felt behind her, -drew out the bit of newspaper, opened it, and disclosed -the fish.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She smelt it, and then began to eat, picking it to -pieces with her fingers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The red-faced man reached for his hat and put it on -with a sullen rakishness. He was looking at Eve out of -the corners of his eyes. Being a drunkard, he was ugly-tempered -in the morning, and the young woman had given -him the cold shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stuck up bit of goods. Looks like the lady. Been -up to it, have yer? I know all about that. Governess, -eh? Some old josser of a husband and a screechin’ wife, -and out yer go into the street!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was more struck by the vindictive, threatening -way he spoke than by the vile things he said. Her impressions -of the night grew more vivid and more pitiless. -Something hardened in her. She felt cold and contemptuous, -and quite capable of facing this human animal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be quiet, please!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned and looked at him steadily, and his dirty -eyelids flickered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mayn’t I speak, blast yer?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you speak to me as you are speaking, I will stop -the next constable and give you in charge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Goo’ lord! What the hell are you doin’ here, may -I ask?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She kept her eyes on him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I came here just for an experience, because I felt -sorry for people, and wanted to see what a night here was -like. I have learnt a good deal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Something fell out of his face. It relaxed, his lower -lip drooping.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve learnt somethin’.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She felt pitiless, nauseated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have. I hope before long that we shall have the -sense to put people like you in a lethal chamber. You -would be better dead, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve got up and walked away, knowing that in the future -there would be certain creatures whom she could not pity—creatures -whom she would look at with the eyes of Nature, -eyes that condemn without pity. She wondered whether -the amateurs who indulged in sentimental eugenics had ever -spent a night sitting on a seat next to a degenerate sot. -She doubted it. The reality would upset the digestion -of the strongest sentimentalist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She felt so stiff and cold that she started to walk -briskly in the direction of Westminster. A light, drizzling -rain began to fall, making the city and the river look -even dirtier and uglier, though there is a fascination about -London’s courtesan ugliness that makes soft Arcadian -prettiness seem inane and unprovocative. Nor does bad -weather matter so much in a city, which is a consideration -in this wet little island.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had not walked far before she discovered that she -was hungry. No shops would be open yet, but in allowing -some whim to take her across Westminster Bridge she -happened on an itinerant coffee-stall at the corner of a -side street. Her last two pennies went in a cup of coffee -and two massive slabs of bread and butter. The keeper -of the stall, a man with a very shiny and freshly shaved -chin and cynical blue eyes, studied her rather doubtfully, -as did a tram-driver and two workmen who came up for -breakfast. Eve noticed that the men were watching her, -behind their silence. Her presence there at such an hour -was an abnormal phenomenon that caused them furiously -to think.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She heard them recover their voices directly she had -moved away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bet you she’s been up to something. ’Eard of any -fires down your way, Jack?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. Think she’s one of them dirty militant sneaks?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t mind bettin’ you that’s what she is. -Dirty, low-down game they’re playing. I’ve a good mind -to follow her up, and tip a copper the wink.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the speaker remained to talk and to drink another -cup of mahogany-coloured tea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s just it. These suffragette women ain’t got -no notion of sport. Suppose they belong to the sort as -scratches and throws lamps.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The coffee-stall keeper interjected a question.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What about the chaps who burnt ricks and haystacks -before the Reform Bill, and the chaps who smashed machines -when they first put ’em into factories?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, they burnt and broke, but they did it like men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Women ain’t in the same situation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ain’t they? They can make ’emselves ’eard. Do yer -think my ol’ woman goes about the ’ouse like a bleatin’ -lamb? Garn, these militants are made all wrong inside. -Fine sort of cause you’ve got when yer go sneakin’ about -at three in the mornin’, settin’ empty ’ouses alight. -That’s ’eroic, ain’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These men had set Eve down as a militant, and they -had come precious near the truth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was on the edge of militancy, impelled towards -strenuous rebellion by an exasperated sense of the injustice -meted out to women, and by brooding upon the things -she herself had experienced. It was a generous impulse -in the main, mingling some bitterness with much enthusiasm, -and moving with such impetuosity that it smothered any -sound thinking. For the moment she was abnormal. She -had half starved herself, and during weeks of loneliness she -had encouraged herself to quarrel with society. She did not -see the pathetic absurdity of all this spiritual kicking and -screaming, being more than inclined to regard it as splendid -protest than as an outburst of hysteria, a fit of tantrums -more suited to an ill-balanced and uneducated servant girl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A shrill voice carries. The frenzied few have delayed -so often the very reforms that they have advocated. And -there is a sort of hysterical enthusiasm that tricks the -younger and more generous spirits, and acting like crude -alcoholic drink, stirs up a so-called religious revival or some -such orgy of purblind egoism as this phenomenon of -militancy. The emotions make the brain drunk, and the -power of sound reasoning is lost. The fools, the fanatics, -the self-advertisers, the notoriety hunters, and the genuine -idealists get huddled into one exclamatory, pitiable mob. -And it is one of the tragic facts of life that the soul -of a mob is the soul of its lowest and basest members. -All the finer, subtler sensitive restraints are lost. A man -of mind may find himself shouting demagogic cries next -to some half drunken coal-heaver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now Eve Carfax was on the edge of militancy, and -it was a debatable point with her whether she should -begin her campaign that day. Necessity advised something -of the kind, seeing that her purse was empty. Yet she -could not quite convince a sensitive and individualistic -pride that the breaking of a shop window or a scuffle -with the police would be an adequate and suitable protest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She walked about for an hour in the neighbourhood -of Trafalgar Square, trying to escape from a treacherous -self-consciousness that refused to suffer the adventure to -be treated as an impersonal affair. The few people whom -she passed stared rather hard, and so persistently, that she -stopped to examine herself in a shop window. A dark -green blind and the plate glass made an admirable mirror. -It showed her her hair straggling most disgracefully, and -the feminine part of her was shocked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her appearance mattered. She did not realise the -significance of the little thrill of shame that had flashed -through her when she had looked at herself in the shop -window; and even when she made her way to St. James’s -Park and found an empty seat she deceived herself into -believing that she had come there to think things out, -and not to tidy her hair, with the help of the little -mirror and the comb she carried in her vanity bag. -Moreover she felt that she had been chilled on that -Embankment seat, and a cold in the head is not heroic. -She had her protest to make. The whole day loomed over -her, big with possibilities. It made her feel very small -and lonely, and cold and insecure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hazily, and with a vague audacity that had now -deserted her, she had assured herself that she would strike -her blow when the hour came; but now that she was -face to face with the necessity she found that she was -afraid. Even her scorn of her own fear could not whip -her into action. Her more sensitive and spiritual self shrank -from the crude publicity of the ordeal. If she did the -thing she had contemplated doing, she knew that she would -be hustled and roughly handled. She saw herself with torn -clothes and tumbled hair. The police would rescue and -arrest her. She would be charged, convicted, and sent to -prison.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She did not fear pain, but she did fear the inevitable -and vulgar scuffle, the rough male hands, the humiliation -of being at the mercy of a crowd. Something prouder -than her pride of purpose rose up and refused to prostitute -itself in such a scrimmage. She knew how some of these -women had been handled, and as she sat there in the -hush of the early morning she puzzled over the psychological -state of those who had dared to outrage public -opinion. Either they were supreme enthusiasts or women -with the souls of fishwives, or drunk with zeal, like -those most offensive of zealots, the early Christians, who -scolded, spat, and raved until they had exasperated some -Roman magistrate into presenting them with martyrdom. -She discovered that she had not that sort of courage or -effrontery. The hot, physical smell of the ordeal disgusted -her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet Nature was to decide the question for her, and the -first interposition of that beneficent tyrant began to manifest -itself as soon as the stimulating effect of the hot coffee -had worn off. Eve felt chilly, an indefinable restlessness -and a feeling of malaise stole over her. She left the seat -in the park, and walking briskly to warm herself, came -into Pall Mall by way of Buckingham Gate. The rush -of the day was beginning. She had been conscious of -the deepening roar of the traffic while she had been sitting -over yonder, and now it perplexed her, pressed upon her -with a savage challenge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had thought to throw the straw of herself into -this torrent of strenuous materialism. For the moment -she was very near to laughter, near twitting herself with -an accusation of egregious egoism. Yet it was the ego—the -intimate, inward I—that was in the ascendant. The -hurrying figures that passed her on the pavement made -her recoil into her impressionable individualism. She felt -like a hyper-sensitive child, shy of being stared at or -of being spoken to. The hurry and the noise bothered -her. Her head began to ache. Her will power flagged. -She was feverish.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve walked and walked. There seemed nothing for her -to do in this feverish city, but to walk and to go on -walking. A significant languor took possession of her. She -was conscious of feeling very tired, not merely with physical -tiredness, but with an utter weariness of spirit. Her mind -refused to go on working. It refused to face any responsibility, -to consider any enterprise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It surprised her that she did not grow hungry. On -the contrary, the sight of food in a window nauseated -her. Her head ached more, and her lips felt dry. Flushes -of heat went over her, alternating with tremors of cold. -Her body felt limp. Her legs did not seem to be there, -even though she went on walking aimlessly along the pavements. -The faces of the people whom she passed began -to appear grotesque and sinister. Nothing seemed very -real. Even the sound of the traffic came from a long -way off. By twelve o’clock she was just an underfed -young woman with a temperature, a young woman who -should have been in bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve never quite knew how the idea came to her. She -just found it there quite suddenly, filling the whole lumen -of her consciousness. She would go and speak to the rosy-faced -suffragette who sold papers at the corner of Southampton -Row. She did not realise that she had surrendered, -or that Nature might be playing with her as a wise -mother plays with a child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was quite innocently confident that the young -woman would be there. The neatly dressed, compact figure -seemed to enlarge itself, and to dominate the very city. Eve -went up Shaftesbury Avenue, and along New Oxford Street. -She was nearly run over at one crossing. A taxi driver -had to jam on his brakes. She did not notice his angry, -expostulatory glare.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now then, miss, wake up!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the male voice, the voice of organised society. -“Wake up; move along in the proper groove, or stand -and be run over!” The words passed over and beyond her. -It was a feverish dream walk to the corner of Southampton -Row. Then she found herself talking to the -young woman who sold papers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I meant to do something. I’m not strong enough. -I have been out all night on the Embankment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was conscious of a strong presence near her; of a -pleasant practical voice speaking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, you’re ill! Have you had anything to -eat?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Some coffee and bread and butter at half-past five. -I have been walking about.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good gracious! You’re feverish! Let me feel.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She gripped a hot hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thought so. Have you any money?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To Eve money presented itself as something that was -yellow and detestable. It was part of the heat in her -brain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. I spent the last of it this morning. I want to -explain——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The paper-seller put a hand under Eve’s arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look here, you’ll faint if you stay out here much -longer. I’ll take you to friends. Of course, you are one -of us?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been trying to earn a living, and to keep -my pride.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A thing that men generally manage to make impossible!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had to wait for some traffic to pass, and to Eve -the street seemed full of vague glare and confusion. She -was aware of a firm grip on her arm, and of the nearness -of something that was comforting and protective. She -wanted to sink down into some soft, soothing substance, -to drink unlimited cold water, and not to be bothered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The body had decided it. There was to be no spasm -of physical protest. Nature had determined that Eve -should go to bed.</p> - -<hr class='tbk133'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c36'></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>PALLAS</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Not even her intimates knew the nature of the humiliations -and the sufferings that had created Mrs. Falconer’s attitude -towards man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was a tall and rather silent woman, fair-haired, -grey-eyed, with a face that was young in outline and old -in its white reserve. There was nothing slipshod or casual -about her. She dressed with discrimination, yet even in the -wearing of her clothes she suggested the putting on of -armour, the linking up of chain mail. Someone had nicknamed -her “Pallas.” She moved finely, stood still finely, -and spoke in a level, full-toned voice that had a peculiar -knack of dominating the conversation without effort and -without self-consciousness. People turned and looked at her -directly she entered a room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet Mrs. Falconer did not play to her public. It -was not the case of a superlatively clever woman conducting -an ambitious campaign. There was something -behind her cold serenity, a silent forcefulness, a superior -vitality that made people turn to her, watch her, listen -to what she said. She suggested the instinctive thought, -“This woman has suffered; this woman knows; she is -implacable; can keep a secret.” And all of us are a little -afraid of the silent people who can keep secrets, who watch -us, who listen while we babble, and who, with one swift -sentence, send an arrow straight to the heart of things -while we have been shooting all over the target.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sentimentalists might have said that Mrs. Falconer was -a splendid white rose without any perfume. Whether the -emotions had been killed in her, whether she had ever -possessed them, or whether she concealed them jealously, -was a matter of conjecture. She was well off, had a -house near Hyde Park and a cottage in Sussex. She was -more than a mere clever, highly cultured woman of the -world. Weininger would have said that she was male. -The name of Pallas suited her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve Carfax had lain in bed for a week in a little -room on the third floor of Mrs. Falconer’s house, and -during that week she had been content to lie there without -asking herself any questions. The woman doctor who -attended her was a lanky good fellow, who wore pince-nez -and had freckles all over her face. Eve did not do much -talking. She smiled, took what she was given, slept a great -deal, being aware of an emptiness within her that had to -be filled up. She had fallen among friends, and that was -sufficient.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The window of her room faced south, and since the -weather was sunny, and the walls were papered a soft -pink, she felt herself in a pleasant and delicate atmosphere. -She took a liking to Dr. Alice Keck. The freckled -woman had been a cheeky, snub-nosed flapper on long -stilts of legs, and her essential impudence had lingered on, -and mellowed into a breezy optimism. She had the figure -of a boy, and talked like a pseudo-cynical man of forty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You want turning out to grass for a month, then -all the kick will come back. You have done enough -experimenting on your own. I tried it once, and I didn’t -like it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When can I see Mrs. Falconer?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Falconer’s name seemed to instil sudden seriousness -into Dr. Alice Keck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, in a day or two!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t seen her yet, and I want to thank her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take my advice, and don’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, it is not in her line—the emotions! You’d feel -foolish, as though you had taken a box of matches to set -light to the North Pole.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That sounds rather discouraging.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rot! Wait and see. They call her Pallas, you know. -If you begin hanging emotions on Kate Falconer you’ll -end up by thinking you are shoving tinsel and beads on -a fine statue. I’ll tell her you want to see her. I think -she wants to see you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve’s vitality was returning, and one of the first -evidences of its return showed itself in a curiosity concerning -this woman who had befriended her. All the little -delicate refinements of life had been given her—flowers, -books, early tea served in dainty china, a bottle of scent -had even been placed on the table beside her bed. These -things had seemed feminine and suggestive. The room had -a warmth of atmosphere that did not seem to belong to -the house of a woman who would not care to be thanked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But from the very first moment that Eve saw Kate -Falconer in the flesh, she understood the aptness of Alice -Keck’s similes. Eve was unusually intuitive. She felt an -abnormal presence near her, something that piqued her -interest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad that you are so much better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She came and sat down beside the bed, and Eve could -see her profile against the window. A warm, evening -light was pouring in, but Pallas’s white face and grey -dress were not warmed by it. There was nothing diaphanous -or flamboyant about her; neither was she reactive -or absorbent. The poise was complete; the whole world -on one side, this woman on the other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She made Eve feel self-conscious.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am much better, thanks to all your kindness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was the obvious thing to do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot quite look at it like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It struck her as absurd that this woman should speak -of doing what was obvious. Eve’s intuition did not hail -her as an obvious person, though it was possible that -Mrs. Falconer’s cold brilliancy made what seemed complex -to most people, obvious to her. There was a moment’s -constraint, Eve feeling herself at a disadvantage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought you might like to talk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I ought to explain things a little.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are under no obligation to explain anything. We -women must help one another. It is part of the new -compact.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Against men?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Against male dominance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should like to tell you some of my experiences!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should like to hear them!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve found it difficult to begin. She doubted whether -this woman could distinguish the subtle emotional colour -shades, but in this she was mistaken. She soon discovered -that Mrs. Falconer was as experienced as a sympathetic -Romish priest, yet the older woman seemed to look at life -objectively, and to read all its permutations and combinations -as a mathematician may be able to read music -at sight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have just worked out all the old conclusions, but -there is nothing like working out a thing for oneself. It -is like touching, seeing, tasting. I suppose it has made -you one of the so-called fanatics?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want things altered!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To what extent?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want the divorce law made equal, and I want -divorce made easier. I want commercial equality. I want -it understood that an unmarried woman who has a child -shall not be made to carry all the supposed disgrace!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Falconer turned in her chair. Her face was in -the shadow, and Eve could not see her eyes very plainly, -but she felt that she was being looked at by a woman -who regarded her views as rather crude.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should like you to try and think in the future, -not only in the present.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have tried that, but it all seems so chaotic.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose you know that there are certain life groups -where the feminine element is dominant?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean spiders and bees?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Exactly! It is my particular belief that woman had -her period of dominance and lost it. It has been a male -world, so far as humanity is concerned, for a good many -thousand years. And what has European man given us? -Factories, mechanics, and the commercial age. I think we -can do better than that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean that we must make woman the dominant -force?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t that obvious?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was obvious, splendidly obvious, when one had the -thorough audacity to regard it in that light.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But how——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By segregating the sexes, massing ourselves against the -men, by refusing them everything that they desire as men. -We shall use the political machinery as well. Man is the -active principle, woman more passive, but passivity must -win if it remains obdurate. Why have women always -surrendered or sold themselves? Haven’t we that in us -which gives us the right to rule?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Motherhood?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, motherhood! We are the true creators.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But men——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The best of them shall serve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And how can you be sure of persuading all women -to mass themselves into one sisterhood?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is just the problem we have to deal with. It -will be solved so soon as the ordinary woman is taught -to think woman’s thought.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve lay mute, thinking. It was very easy to theorise -on these lines, but what about human nature? Could one -count, even in the distant future, on the ordered solidarity -of a whole sex? Would every woman be above her own -impulses, above the lure of the emotions? It seemed to -Eve that Mrs. Falconer who talked of developments as -being obvious, was overlooking the most obvious of -opponents—Nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But do you think that men will ever accept such a -state of things?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course they would resist.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It would mean a sex war. They are stronger than -we are!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, not stronger! Besides, methods of violence, if -we come to them, can be used now by women as well -as by men. The trigger and the fuse are different from -the club. I don’t count on such crude methods. We are -in the majority. We shall just wear men out. We can -bear more pain than they can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But what an immense revolution!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yet it has happened. We see it in insect life, don’t -we? How did it come about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But it is there, a fact.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. All the same, when I had finished reading a -book on the ways of bees, I thought that they were -detestable little beasts.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because they killed off the useless males, and let -the queen assassinate her rivals. We are not bees. We -shall do better than that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her level, full-toned voice had never varied, and she -talked with perfect and assured serenity of turning society -upside down. She was a fanatic with ideas and a subnormal -temperature. She believed what she foresaw. It -was like one of the Fates deigning to be conversational -in a drawing-room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She rose, and, walking to the window, looked down -into the street.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you think that women would have perpetrated -London? It took man to do that. I must not tire you. -Have you everything you want?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you, everything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will come up and see you again to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had plenty of leisure for meditation, and Mrs. -Falconer’s theories gave her abundant material for thought. -Rest in bed, with good food, and pleasant refinements round -her had restored her normal poise, and she found that there -was far less edge to her enthusiasm. She was a little -shocked by the discovery. The disharmonies of the life that -she had been studying had not changed, and she was -troubled by this discovery that she did not react as she -had reacted two weeks ago. When we are young we are -distressed by the subtle transfigurations that overtake our -ideals. We hatch so many eggs that persist in giving us -ducklings instead of chickens. We imagine that we shall -always admire the same things, believe the same beliefs, -follow out the strenuous beginnings. When changes come, -subtle, physical changes, perhaps, we are astonished at ourselves. -So it was with Eve when she discovered that -her enthusiasm had passed from a white heat to a dull -and more comfortable glow. Accusing herself of inconstancy, -lack of sustained purpose, did not explain the -change in the least. She tried to convince herself that it -was mere sloth, the result of a comfortable bed and -good food.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a day or two she found herself driven to explain -a second surprising fact, a growing hostility towards Mrs. -Falconer. It was not a dislike that could be reasoned -with and suppressed, but a good, vigorous, temperamental -hatred as natural and as self-assertive as hunger, thirst, -or passion. It seemed to Eve abominable that she should -be developing such an attitude towards this woman, who -had shown her nothing but kindness, but this irresponsible -antipathy of hers seemed to have leapt up out of some -elemental underworld where intellect counted as nothing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Falconer came up daily to talk to her as to a -fellow fanatic, and her temperament roused in Eve an -instinctive sense of resistance. She found herself accusing -her hostess to herself of intolerance and vindictiveness. It -was like listening to a hell-fire sermon preached against -the male sex, a denunciation that was subtilised with all the -cleverness of a mind that had played with all the scientific -theories of the day. Mrs. Falconer was a vitalist. She -hated the mechanical school with fine consistency, and -clasped hands with Bergson and Hans Driesch. Yet she -disagreed with some of her fellow mystics in believing -that women possessed more of the “<span class='it'>élan vital</span>” than man. -Therefore, woman was the dominant force of the future, -and it behoved her to assert her power.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve found herself on tip-toe to contradict Mrs. Falconer, -just as one is tempted to jump up and contradict the -dogmatist who talks down at us from the pulpit. She -tried to argue one or two things out, but soon realised -that this woman was far too clever for her, far too well -armed. Mrs. Falconer had masked batteries everywhere. -She had reserves of knowledge that Eve had no chance -of meeting. And yet, though she could not meet her arguments, -Eve had an intense conviction that Mrs. Falconer’s -ideals were hopelessly wrong. There was la revanche -behind it all. Her head could not confute the theorist, -but her heart did. Human nature would not be cajoled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had an idea that Mrs. Falconer was a very busy -woman. The house seemed full of voices, and of the sound -of coming and going, but Eve did not discover how busy -her hostess was till Dr. Alice Keck let her go downstairs. -There were two big rooms on the second floor fitted up -like offices, with a dozen women at work in them. Letters -were being written, directories consulted, lists of names -made out, statistics compiled, money received and disbursed. -People came and went, brought and received information. -There was no laughter. Everyone was in grim earnest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve saw Mrs. Falconer’s personality translated into -action. This rich woman’s house was a nerve centre -of the new movement, and Mrs. Falconer’s presence suggested -one of those subtle ferments that are supposed to -stimulate the complex processes of life. She did nothing -herself. She was a presence. People came to her when -they needed the flick of her advice. She co-ordinated everything.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was introduced to all these girls and women, -and was given a table to herself with several sheets of -foolscap and a file of papers. Mrs. Falconer came and -stood by her, and explained the work she wanted her to do.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is nothing like attacking people with facts. -They penetrate the British skull! We are collecting all these -cases, and making a register of them. We shall publish -them in a cheap form, and have them sent all over the -country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You want all these papers fair copied?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. They are in the rough, just as they were sent -in to us. You will find that they are numbered.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve discovered that she had before her a series of -reports dealing with well-authenticated cases of women -who had been basely treated by men. Some of them were -written on ordinary letter paper, others on foolscap, and -not a few on the backs of circulars and bills. Nor was -the batch that had been given her the first that had -been handled. Each case was numbered, and Eve’s batch -began at 293.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a sordid and pathetic similarity about -them all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“M—— W——, typist, 31, orphan. Engaged to be -married to a clerk. The man borrowed her savings, got -her into trouble, and then refused to marry her. Girl -went into Queen Charlotte’s hospital. Baby born dead. -The mother developed puerperal fever, but recovered. She -was unable to get work for some time, and went into -domestic service. Her health broke down. She is now -in a workhouse infirmary.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“V—— L——. A particularly cruel case that ended -in suicide. She had spent a little sum of money that had -been left her, on educating herself. Obtained a very good -post as secretary. Her employer took her with him to -Paris, pretending that as she could speak French she would -be very useful to him in certain business transactions. -Drugs were used. Five months later the girl committed -suicide in London by throwing herself under a Tube train.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All day, and for several days, Eve worked at these -pathetic records, till she felt nauseated and depressed. It -was a ghastly indictment drawn up against man, and yet -it did not have the effect on her that Mrs. Falconer -had expected. It did not drive her farther towards fanaticism. -On the contrary, she was overcome by a feeling -of helplessness and of questioning compassion. It was all so -pitiable and yet so inevitable as things were, and through -all the misery and the suffering she was brought to see -that the whole blame could not be credited to the man. -It was the system more than the individual.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A function that is natural and clean enough in itself -has been fouled by the pruderies of priests and pedants. -Sex has been disguised with all manner of hypocrisies and -make-believes. Society pretends that certain things do not -happen, and when Nature insists upon their happening, -Society retaliates upon the woman by calling her foul -names and making her an outcast. The men themselves are -driven by the system to all those wretched meannesses, -treacheries, deceptions. And the worst of it all is that -Society tries to keep the truth boxed up in a cellar. -English good form prides itself with a smirk on not -talking about such things, and on playing the ostrich -with its head under a pew cushion. Nature is not treated -fairly and squarely. We are immorally moral in our -conventions. Until we decide to look at sex cleanly -and wholesomely, stripping ourselves of all mediæval nastiness -and cowardly smuggery, we shall remain what we -are, furtive polygamists, ashamed of our own bodies, and -absurdly calling our own children the creatures of sin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The work depressed Eve. Her fellow workers were -hardly more enlivening. They belonged to a distinct -type, the neutral type that cannot be appealed to either -as man or woman. Meals were served at a long table -in one of the lower rooms, and Eve noticed that her -neighbours did not in the least care what they ate. -They got through a meal as quickly as possible, talking -hard all the time. Now Eve did care about what she -ate, and whether it was delicately served. She had the -palate of a healthy young woman, and it mattered to her -whether she had ragged mutton and rice pudding every day, -or was piqued by something with a flavour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was carnal. She told herself so flatly one afternoon -as she went up to her bedroom, and the charge produced -a thrill of natural laughter. She had a sudden wild desire -to run out and play, to be greedy as a healthy child -is greedy, to tumble hay in a hay field, to take off -her clothes and bathe in the sea. The natural vitality -in her turned suddenly from all this sour, quarrelsome, -pessimistical campaigning and demanded life—the life of -feeling and seeing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The house oppressed her, so she put on her hat and -escaped, and made her way into the park. May was in, -green May, with lush grass and opening leaves. The sun -shone. There was sparkle in the air. One thought of -wood nymphs dancing on forest lawns while fauns piped -and jigged, and the great god Pan delighted himself with -wine and honey. It was only a London park, but it -was the nearest thing to Nature that Eve could find. Her -heart expanded suddenly. An irrational, tremulous joyousness -came over her. She wanted to sing, to weep, to -throw herself down and bury her face in the cool green -grass. The country in May! She had a swift and passionate -desire for the country, for green glooms and quiet -waters and meadows dusted with gold. To get out of -this loathsome complication of tragedies, to breathe smokeless -air, to think of things other than suicides, prostitutions, -treacheries, the buying and selling of souls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She felt like a child before a holiday, and then she -thought of Lynette. What a vision of wholesomeness and -of joy! It was like cool water bubbling out of the earth, -like a swallow gliding, a thrush singing at dawn. She -could not bear to think of wasting all the spring in London. -She must escape somehow, escape to a healthier outlook, to -cooler thinking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she went back Mrs. Falconer sent for her. Eve -wondered afterwards whether it was a coincidence or not -that Mrs. Falconer should have said what she did that -day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have not been looking well. You want a -change!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I almost think I do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t like me. It is a pity.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was taken by surprise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t like you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is quite obvious to me, but it does not make -any difference. I knew it, almost from the first. A matter -of temperament. I understand some things better than -you suspect. You want action, more warmth of movement. -This statistical work disgusts you. I can give you -your opportunity.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve remained mute. It was useless to protest in the -presence of such a woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Two of our missionaries are going to tour in Sussex -and Surrey. I think you might join them. I wonder if -you are strong enough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see, they tramp most of the way, and speak -in the villages, and small towns. Sometimes they are -treated rather roughly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve beheld the green country within the clasp of her -arms, and was ready to accept anything.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I’ll go. I should love to go. I’m strong, and -I’m not afraid. I think I want action.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, you are not made for dealing with harsh facts. -They disgust you too much, and weaken you. It is all -temperament. You are one of those who must spend -themselves, obtain self-expression.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder how you know that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear, I was a woman before I became a thinker.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk134'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c37'></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>ADVENTURES</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Three women with dusty shoes and brown faces came -along under the Downs to Bignor village. They wore -rough brown skirts, white blouses, and straw hats, and -each carried a knapsack strapped over her shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now Bignor is particularly and remotely beautiful, -especially when you have left the flat country behind you -and climbed up to the church by the winding lanes. It -is pure country, almost uninvaded by modernity, and so -old in the midst of its perennial youth that you might -hardly wonder at meeting a Roman cohort on the march, -or a bevy of bronze-haired British girls laughing and singing -between the hedgerows. The village shop with its timber -and thatch might be a wood-cut from a romance. The -Downs rise up against the blue, and their solemn green -slopes, over which the Roman highway climbs, seem to -accentuate the sense of silence and of mystery. Great beech -woods shut in steep, secret meadows. There are lush -valleys where the grass grows tall, and flowers dream -in the sunlight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The three women came to Bignor church, and camped -out in the churchyard to make their midday meal. Eve -Carfax was one of them, brown, bright-eyed, with a red -mouth that smiled mysteriously at beauty. Next to her -sat Joan Gaunt, lean, strenuous, with Roman nose, and -abrupt sharp-edged mouth. Her wrists and hands were big-boned -and thin. The line of her blouse and skirt showed -hardly a curve. She wore square-toed Oxford shoes, and -very thick brown stockings. Lizzie Straker sat a little apart, -restless even in repose, a pinched frown set permanently -between her eyebrows, her assertive chin uptilted. She -was the eloquent splutterer, a slim, mercurial woman -with prominent blue eyes and a lax mouth, who protruded -her lips when she spoke, and whose voice was a challenge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had wanted to turn aside to see the remains of -the Roman villa, but her companions had dropped scorn -on the suggestion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wasting time on a few old bits of tesselated pavement! -What have we got to do with the Romans? It’s -the present that matters!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had suggested that one might learn something, -even from the Romans, and the glitter of fun in her eyes -had set Lizzie Straker declaiming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What tosh! And you call yourself an artist, and yet -admire the Romans. Don’t you know that artists were -slaves at Rome? Don’t ask me to consider any society -that subsisted on slavery. It’s dead; doesn’t come into -one’s line of vision. I call archæology the most abominable -dilettante rot that was ever invented to make some old -gentlemen bigger bores than their neighbours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so she had spluttered on all the way to Bignor -church, working her voluble mouth, and punching the air -with a small brown fist. The eloquence was still in her -when she opened her packet of sandwiches, and her energy -divided itself between declamation and disposing of -mouthfuls of bread and ham.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve sat looking countrywards, thinking, “Oh, do be -quiet!” She wanted to lose herself in the beauty of the -landscape, and she was in a mood to be delighted by a -fern growing in a wall, or by the way the fresh green of -a tree caught the sunlight. For the moment her spirit -escaped and climbed up among the branches of an old yew, -and fluttered there in the sparkling gloom, while Lizzie -Straker kept up her caterwauling below.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had been on the open road for a fortnight, and -Lizzie Straker still had the autumn tints of a black eye -that an apple thrown in a Sussex village had given her. -They had been hustled and chased on two occasions, Joan -Gaunt coming in for most of the eggs and flour, perhaps -because of her fierce leathery face and her defiant manner. -Eve had recollections of cleaning herself in a station waiting-room, -while a sergeant and two constables guarded the -door. And, strange to say, some of her sympathies had -been with the crowd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These three women had tramped and suffered together, -yet each day only emphasised Eve’s discovery that she was -failing to tone with her companions. They had begun -by boring her, and they were beginning to exasperate her, -rousing a spirit of antagonism that was ready to criticise -them without mercy. Never in her life had Eve been in -the presence of two such masses of ferocious prejudice. -Their attitude towards the country was in complete contrast -to hers. They were two blind fanatics on a pilgrimage, -while Eve was a wayfarer whose eyes and ears and nostrils -were open to Nature. Joan Gaunt and Lizzie Straker -lived for words, bundles of phrases, arguments, assertions, -accusations. They were two polemical pamphlets on legs -sent out walking over God’s green earth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve noticed that their senses were less alive than -hers, and that they were absurdly unobservant. Perhaps -they had passed a cottage garden full of wallflowers, blood -red and gold, and Eve had asked, “Did you smell them?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Smell what?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The flowers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What flowers?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The wallflowers in that garden.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had neither seen nor smelt anything, and they -had looked at her as though she were a sentimental -trifler.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On another occasion, an orchard in bloom, filling a -green hollow between two woods, had made Eve stand -gazing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t that perfect?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker saw nothing but what her mad prejudices -were allowing her to see.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should like to come along with an axe and chop -down all those trees. It would make quite a good -protest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had felt satirical.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why shouldn’t we blow up Chanctonbury Ring?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And they had taken her seriously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We should want such a lot of dynamite.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But it’s an idea, quite an idea.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the small town of Battle they had thirsted to -blow up the great abbey gateway, while Eve was letting -her eyes take in all the grey beauty of the stonework -warmed by the evening sunlight. These two women had -“a mad” against property. Protest by violence was -<a id='become'></a>becoming an obsession with them. They were like hostile -troops marching through a rich and hated land.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, from the very first day in the country, a change -had come over Eve. A crust of hardness seemed to have -fallen from her, and once more she had felt herself to be -the possessor of an impressionable and glowing body, whose -skin and senses responded to the sunlight, the winds, the -colours and the scent of the earth. She no longer felt -like a little pricking thorn in the big body of life. She -belonged to the earth. She was in the apple blossom and -in the red flare of a bed of tulips. Self was no longer -dissevered from the all-consciousness of the life round her. -The tenderness came back to her, all those mysterious, -elusive and exultant moods that came she knew not -whence and went she knew not whither. She had ceased -to be a pathological specimen corked up in a bottle, -and had become part of the colour and the smell, the joy -and the pathos of things vital.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the fields Eve saw lambs at play, skipping absurdly, -butting each other. Birds were singing and making love, -and the bees were busy in the furze. A sense of the immensity, -of the exultant rush of life, possessed her. And -this pilgrimage of theirs, all this spouting and declaiming, -this lean-necked heroism, seemed futile and rather ridiculous. -Was one to tell Nature that she must stand aside, and -order youth not to look into the eyes of youth? It -might serve for the few. They were like children making -castles and dykes and rivulets on the sands, within the -reach of the sea. Eve imagined that Nature must be -amused, but that she would wipe out these eccentricities -so soon as they began to bore her. She felt herself in -the midst of elemental things; whereas Joan Gaunt had -studied botany in a museum.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That afternoon they marched on to Pulborough, and, -entering an inn, announced to the landlord that they -intended staying for the night. Joan Gaunt managed the -practical side of the pilgrimage. She entered the inn with -the air of an officer commanding food and beds in time -of war.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Three bedrooms, and a cold supper at nine!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The landlord was a Sussex man, short, stolid, and -laconic. He looked at Joan Gaunt out of staring blue -eyes, and asked whether their luggage had been left at the -station.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have not got any luggage. We are on a walking -tour. You can give us our tea in the garden.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt did not hear what the landlord said to his -wife, who was cleaning table-silver in a pantry at the end -of a long passage. It was terse and unflattering, and -included such phrases as, “Three tooth brushes and a -change of stockings.” “A scrag of mutton without so -much as a frill to the bone end.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The three comrades had tea in the garden, and were -studied suspiciously by the landlord’s wife, a comely little -woman with bright, brown eyes. The few words that she -uttered were addressed to Eve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A nice May we’re having!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Splendid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then Joan Gaunt proceeded to make an implacable -enemy of her by telling her to see that the beds were -properly aired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About seven o’clock Pulborough discovered that it had -been invaded by suffragettes. Three women had stationed -themselves with their backs to a wall at a place where -three roads met, and one of the women—it was Lizzie -Straker—brandished a small flag. Pulborough gathered. The -news spread somehow even to the outlying cottages. Stale -eggs are to be found even in the country, and a certain -number of stale eggs rushed to attend the meeting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker was the speaker, and the people of -Pulborough appeared to discover something intensely funny -in Lizzie Straker. Her enthusiastic and earnest spluttering -tickled them. The more she frowned and punched the air -with that brown fist of hers, the more amusing they -found her. The Executive had not been wise in its -choice of an itinerant orator, for Lizzie Straker lost -her temper very quickly on such occasions, and growing -venomous, began to say scathing things, things that -even a Sussex brain can understand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some of the younger spirits began to jeer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you wonder she be’unt married!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can’t she talk! Like a kettle a-boiling over!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s she wanting a vote for?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell you for why; to have laws made so as -all the pretty girls shall be sent off to Canada.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their humour was hardly less crude than Lizzie -Straker’s sneering superiority. And then an egg flew, and -broke against the wall behind Joan Gaunt’s head. The -crowd closed in threateningly. The flag was snatched from -Lizzie Straker, and someone threw a dead mouse in Joan -Gaunt’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The retreat to the inn was not dignified. The rest -of the eggs followed them, but for some reason or other -Eve was spared. Her two comrades came in for all the -honour. The crowd accompanied them to the inn, and -found the blue-eyed landlord standing in the doorway.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Chuck ’em out, Mister Crowhurst!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We don’t want the likes of them in Pulborough!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt was for pushing her way in, and the -landlord gave way. He said a few words to the crowd, -shut the door, and followed the suffragettes into the long -passage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sorry, ladies, but you’ll have to turn out. I can’t -keep you. It isn’t safe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker’s claws were still out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you have got to. You keep a public house. -It’s the law!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A voice chimed in from the end of the passage:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“John, I won’t have those women in my house! No, -I won’t; that’s a fact. They’ve got neither sense nor -manners.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right, my dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I had my way, I’d have them all put in asylums. -Disgusting fools. I don’t care; let them summon us. I -won’t have them in my house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt tried her Roman manner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall insist on staying. Where are the police?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s right, call for the men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where are the police?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The landlord grinned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can’t say. I’ll take you out the back way, and through -the orchard into the fields. It’s getting dark.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But we are not going.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall let the crowd in, ladies, in three minutes. -That’s all I have got to say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve ran upstairs and brought down the three knapsacks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s go,” she said, “we’re causing a lot of bother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s the only sensible one of the lot,” said the -voice, “and what’s more, she’s worth looking at.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The crowd was growing restive and noisy. There was -the sound of breaking glass. The landlord jerked a thumb -in the direction of the front door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There you are—they’re getting nasty. You come -along with me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went under protest, with the exception of Eve, -who paused at the end of the passage and spoke to the -little woman with the brown eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sorry. I’ll send some money for the glass. And -what do we owe for the tea?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Three shillings, miss. Thank you. And what do -you do it for?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well, you see——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t go along with those scrags, if I were -you. It’s silly!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The little woman had pluck, for she went out to -cajole the crowd, and kept it in play while her husband -smuggled the suffragettes through the garden and orchard -and away across the fields. They escaped unmolested, -and the dusk covered their retreat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After the landlord had left them they walked about -three miles and lost themselves completely and thoroughly -in a net-work of by-roads. Shelter for the night became a -consideration, and it was Eve who sighted a haystack in -the corner of a field, and who suggested it as a refuge. -They scrambled over a gate and found that the haystack -had been cut into, and that there was a deep fragrant -walled recess sheltered from the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker began to pull down some loose hay -and spread it to make a cushion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must teach those savages a lesson. We ought to -set fire to this in the early morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was tired of Lizzie Straker.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think that would be sport, burning the thing -that has sheltered you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The hay was fragrant, but it could not mask the -odour that had attached itself to her companions’ clothes. -Eve had been spared the rotten eggs, but she was made to -suffer indirectly, and persuaded to edge away into the -corner of the recess. They had had to fly without their -supper, and a few dry rock-cakes and some biscuits were -all that they had in their knapsacks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker produced a candle-end and a box of -matches. It was a windless night, and by the light of the -candle the two women examined each other’s scars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We might get some of it off with the hay.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t it disgusting! And no water to wash in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They proceeded to rub each other down, taking turns -in holding the candle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had a suggestion to make.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will have to get some new blouses at the next -town. I shall have to go in and shop for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They glanced at her critically, realising for the first -time that she had escaped without any of the marks of -martyrdom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Didn’t you get any?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No; you seem to have been the favourites.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Disgusting savages!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Sussex people always were the worst boors in -England.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When they had made some sort of job of their mutual -grooming, and had eaten a few rock-cakes and biscuits, -Joan Gaunt unbuttoned her blouse and drew from the inner -depths a long white envelope. Lizzie Straker sidled nearer, -still holding the candle. Eve had not seen this envelope -before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stood up and looked down over their shoulders as -they sat. Joan Gaunt had drawn out a sheet of foolscap -that was covered with cipher.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker pointed an eager finger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s the place. It’s between Horsham and Guildford.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And there’s no proper caretaker, only a man at the -lodge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We can make a blaze of it. We shall hear from -Galahad at Horsham.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were human enough to feel a retaliating vindictiveness, -after the way they had been pelted at Pulborough, -and Eve, looking down at the paper that Joan -Gaunt held, realised at last that they were incendiaries -as well as preachers. She could not read the precious -document, but she guessed what it contained.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that our Black List?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They did not offer to explain the cipher to her, for she -was still something of a probationer. Moreover the candle -was guttering out, and Lizzie Straker had to smother it in -the grass beside the stack. Eve returned to her corner, -made a nest, took off her hat, and, turning her knapsack -into a pillow, lay down to look at the stars. A long -day in the open had made her sleepy, but Joan Gaunt -and Lizzie Straker were still talking. Eve fell asleep, with -the vindictive and conspiring murmur of their voices in -her ears.</p> - -<hr class='tbk135'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c38'></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE MAN WITH THE MOTOR</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve woke with the scent of hay in her nostrils, and her -hair was damp with dew.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat up, and from that brown nook on the hill-side -looked out upon a world that was all white mist, with a -great silver sun struggling out of the east. Each blade of -grass had its droplet of dew. The air was still as deep -water. From a wood in the valley came the sound of the -singing of birds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her two companions were still asleep, Joan Gaunt lying -with her mouth wide open, her face looking grey and old. -Eve picked up an armful of hay, went a few paces forward, -and sat down so that she could see everything without -having to look over the bodies of the sleeping women.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was like watching the birth of a world. The veil -of white mist hid miraculous happenings, and the singing -of the birds down yonder was like the exultation of -souls that beheld and marvelled. Mystery! The stillness -seemed to wait. In a little while the white veil would -be withdrawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then the vapour became full of sudden motion. It rolled -in great drifts, rose, broke into little wisps of smoke, and -half lost itself in yellow light. The interplay was wonderful -to watch. Sometimes the mist closed in again, hiding -what it had half revealed, only to drift away once more -like torn masses of gossamer. A great yellow ray of sunlight -struck abruptly across the valley, fell upon the wood -where the birds were singing, and splashed it with gold. -Then the mist seemed to be drawn up like a curtain. Colour -came into the landscape, the bronze and yellow of the -budding oaks, the delicate green of young beech leaves, -the sables of yews and firs, the blue of the sky, the green -of the fields. It was all wet, fragrant, glittering, like -an elf world lifted suddenly out of the waters of an -enchanted sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Someone sneezed. Eve turned sharply, and found Joan -Gaunt was awake, and sitting up. Wisps of hay had got -tangled in her hair, her blouse looked like an impressionist -sunset, and one side of her face was red and mottled -from lying on the canvas knapsack. She had been awake -for ten minutes, and had pulled out a notebook and was -scribbling in it with a pencil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve thought that she was turning the May morning into -a word picture, but she soon noticed that Joan Gaunt’s -eyes did not rise above the level of her notebook.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Busy already?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t it wonderful?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, all that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve swept a hand towards the valley where the smoking -squadrons of the mist were in full flight before the gold -spears of the sun.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It looks as though it has been abominably damp. -I’m quite stiff and I’ve caught cold.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She blew her nose hard, and, like the impervious -enthusiast that she was, resumed her scribbling. Eve left -her undisturbed, and returning to her corner of the recess -let her hair down, and spent ten minutes brushing it. She -had very fine hair, it reached well below her waist, and -Lizzie Straker, who had just woke up, found something -to say on the subject.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must be a nuisance, having a fleece like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So beastly hot. I should like to have mine cut quite -short.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The obvious answer, though Eve did not give it, was -that some people’s hair did not matter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went exploring in quest of somebody who would -provide them with towels and water, and also with breakfast. -And when they did get breakfast at a little farmhouse -over the hill, her companions had to thank Eve for it, for -the farmer’s wife was not a persuadable person, and would -certainly have refused anything to Joan Gaunt or Lizzie -Straker. Their white blouses were splashed and streaked -with yellow, but luckily the sitting-room was rather dark, -and the farmer’s wife was not observant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Eve had seen these blouses in the full sunlight, -and was candid in her criticism.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must stop at the next village, and buy a couple -of new blouses!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, what does it matter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker was in a touchy and argumentative mood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They really look too terrible!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t care. It is a reflection on those savages.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose you don’t want to be too conspicuous when -you are out to burn houses!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was sound sense, and they halted that day within -a mile or two of Horsham and let Eve go on alone to -buy two new blouses. The transfiguration was contrived -in the corner of a wood, and the egg-stained relics were -rolled up and stowed away in their knapsacks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Apparently they were expected at Horsham, not by the -public or the police, but by the elderly gentlewoman at -whose front door Joan Gaunt knocked. They were received -with enthusiasm by an excitable lady with a high, narrow -forehead and prominent teeth. She could talk nearly as -fast as Lizzie Straker, and she gave them a most excellent -tea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think it is splendid, perfectly splendid, this heroic -uprising of the women of England. The Government -can’t stop us. How can they stop us? We have got the -men stalemated.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve did not take to her hostess, and their hostess -did not take to Eve. She looked at her with the veiled -prejudices of a very plain woman for a girl who had more -than good looks. Moreover, Eve had recovered her sense -of humour, and these enthusiasts were rendered suspicious -and uneasy by a glimmer of fun in the eyes. People -who could laugh were not vindictively and properly in -earnest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They can’t stop us. They can’t crush women who are -not afraid of dying! Isn’t it glorious the way those noble -girls have fought and refused to eat in prison? I know -one woman who kept four wardresses at bay for half an -hour. She kicked and struggled, and they had to give up -trying to feed her. What fools we are making the men -look! I feel I want to laugh in the faces of all the men -I meet!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve asked mildly: “And do you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do what?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Laugh when you meet them?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, no, not quite. It wouldn’t be dignified, would -it? But I think they see the triumph in my eyes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their hostess had forgotten that a letter had come for -Joan Gaunt, and she only remembered it when Joan asked -if it had arrived.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course—how silly of me! I locked it up in my -bureau. I was so fascinated listening to all your adventures.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She fetched the letter, and Joan Gaunt read it. She -smiled her leathery smile, and passed the letter over to -Lizzie Straker.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To-morrow night, where the road to Godalming -branches off from the Horsham-Guildford road.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The hostess thrilled and upset her cup.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How exciting—how splendid! I can guess, yes, what -you are going to do. And you will be able to stay the -night here? How nice. The people here are such barbarians; -so narrow. I try to spread the great ideal, but they don’t -seem to care.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At all events she treated them nobly, and Eve was -able to enjoy the sensuous delight of a good hot bath. -She went to bed early, leaving her hostess and the two -pioneers of progress sitting well forward in their chairs, -and debating the conversion of those women who clung -sentimentally to the old traditions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their hostess was curious about Eve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A probationer, a novice, I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is learning the discipline.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have very quick instincts. I don’t think I quite -trust that young woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker, who was always ready to argue about -anything, simply because she had a temperament that disagreed, -rushed to defend Eve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, what’s the matter with her? She came down -to starving point, anyhow, for a principle. If that isn’t -being sincere, what is?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their hostess was not accustomed to being met and -attacked with such impetuosity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She doesn’t strike me as belonging to us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As I explained, it was my impression. She doesn’t -strike me as being serious minded.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Anyway, she didn’t sit in a chair and theorise. -She’s been through the real thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt had to interpose, for the gentlewoman of -Horsham was showing signs of huffiness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Falconer sent her with us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Falconer? That noble woman. I am satisfied. -She should know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They left Horsham about five o’clock the following -evening, their knapsacks well packed with food. The gentlewoman -of Horsham dismissed them with the fervour of an -early Christian, and held Joan Gaunt’s hands for fully -half a minute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It has been such an experience for me. It has been -like seeing one’s dearest ideals in the flesh. God bless you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt went striding along the Guildford road like -a veteran centurion, grim and purposeful. Lizzie Straker -had a headache, and Eve offered to carry her knapsack -and coat, but Lizzie Straker had a kind of soldier pride. -She would carry her own kit till she dropped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t fuss me, old girl. I’m all right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve enjoyed the long walk, perhaps because her companions -were silent. A soft spring dusk was melting over -the country. Birds were singing. There were yellow gates -to the west. The hedgerows were clean and unsoiled by -dust, and a delightful freshness distilled out of the blue-green -grass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was pitch dark long before they reached the point -where the road branched off to Godalming, though the sky -was crowded with stars. Joan Gaunt had bought a little -electric hand-lamp in Horsham, and it served to light up -the sign-posts and the dial of her watch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here we are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had flashed the light on a sign-post arm and -read “Godalming.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s the time?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“About half-past ten.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Galahad won’t be here till midnight.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. You have time for a rest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker was fagged out. Eve could tell that by -the flatness of her voice. They went and sat in a dry -ditch under the shadow of a hedge, and put on their -jackets, for the double purpose of keeping warm and hiding -their white blouses. Lizzie Straker lay down with -her knapsack under her head, and in ten minutes she -was asleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We won’t talk!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. I’m quite ready for a rest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A couple of farm labourers passed, one of them airing -a grievance, the condemning of his pig by some sanitary -official. “I be’unt a fool. A touch of de joint evil, dat’s -what it be. But he comes and he swears it be tu-ber-coo-lousis, -and says I be to slaughter d’beast.” The voice -died away, bemoaning the fate of the pig, and Eve felt a -drowsiness descending upon her eyelids. She remembered -Joan Gaunt sitting erect and watchful beside her, and then -dreams came.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She woke suddenly to find two huge glaring eyes lighting -the road. They were the headlights of a stationary motor, -and she heard the purr of the engine turning dead slow. -Someone was speaking. A high pitched, jerky and excitable -voice was giving orders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Turn out the headlights, Jones, and light the oil -lamps. You had better shove in another can of petrol. -Well, here we are; on the tick—what!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt’s voice answered him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Last time you were an hour late.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s good. We had two punctures, you know. -Where are the others?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Asleep in the ditch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve woke Lizzie Straker. The headlights went out -suddenly, and two figures approached, one of them carrying -the tail lamp of the car.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo, it’s Galahad!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker’s short sleep had restored her vitality. -She spluttered enthusiastically at the man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo, old sport! here we are, ready for the limelight. -Plenty of paraffin and shavings?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He turned the lamp on Eve so that she could see -nothing but a round yellow eye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“New comrade? Greetings!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt introduced them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Lawrence Kentucky—Miss Eve Carfax. We call -him our Galahad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man laughed, and his laughter was falsetto. She -could not see him, except when he swung the lamp away -from her, and then but dimly, but she received the -impression of something tall, fidgety, and excitable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Delightful! One more fair lady to champion. Great -adventures, great adventures!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve soon noticed that Lizzie Straker was particularly -interested in Mr. Lawrence Kentucky. She hung close, -talking in slangy superlatives, and trying to spread her -personality all round him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How many miles an hour to-day?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, we came easy! Respectable tourists, you know. -All ready, Jones?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All ready, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Supposing we heave up the anchor? There’s plenty -of room for three at the back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But what about the house? Do you know it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather! We’re thorough, you know. Jones and I -went over all the ground two days ago. We have it all -mapped out to a T.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to set light to this one. Joan had the -last.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right, your honour, although Miss Gaunt’s one up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt climbed in independently. Lizzie Straker -waited to be helped. Mr. Kentucky helped Eve, because -he had discovered something of the eternal feminine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To Eve the adventure began by seeming utterly unreal. -Even when the motor drew up in a dark lane, and the -lights were turned out after the attacking party had loaded -themselves with bags of shavings, tow, and a can of petrol, -she was hardly convinced that she was off to help in burning -down a house. She asked herself why she was doing it. -The spirit of revolt failed to answer in a voice that was -passionate enough to be convincing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went in single file, Lawrence Kentucky leading -the way. He carried an electric torch which he used from -time to time like a boy out for mischief. They climbed -a gate, crossed a grass field, and came to a fence backed -by straggling laurels and hollies. There was a place where -two or three of the fence palings were rotten and had been -kicked in by Mr. Kentucky when he had come to spy out -the land. They squeezed through, one by one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Someone whispered to Eve as she stooped to pass -through.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mind the nails. I’ll show you a light.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His torch glowed, and she had a momentary glimpse -of his face, thin, neurotic, with restless eyes, and a mouth -that had the voracious look that one sees in men who -are always hungry for some new sensation. She could have -imagined him swearing volubly, laughing hysterically, biting -his pipe stems in two, a whimsical egoist who rushed -hither and thither to escape from being bored.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right? Rather like playing oranges and lemons.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She knew at once that he wanted to flirt with her, -but she had no desire to cut out Lizzie Straker.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They threaded through a big shrubbery, and came out -against a black mass piled in the middle of a broad lawn. -It was the house they had come to burn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The kitchen window, Jones—at it with the glass-cutter! -Who’ll stay outside and keep cave?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve offered herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, you’ll miss half the fun.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t mind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The grass on the lawn promised a good hay crop. -There was a wooden seat built round the trunk of an old -lime, and Eve settled herself there after the others had -disappeared. The night was absolutely soundless, stars -scattered like dust above the solid parapet and low roof -of the red brick Georgian house. It stood there, mute, -deserted, with sightless eyes, and a sudden pity seized on -Eve. It was as though the house were alive, and she was -helping to do it to death. Houses were part of life. -They held a spiritual and impalpable something that -mattered. They had souls. She began to watch, as though -she was to be present at a tragedy, with a feeling of -tension at her heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Who had lived there? To whom did the house belong? -Had children been born yonder, and had tired eyes closed -in death? Had children played in the garden, and under -this tree? It was illogical to pity bricks and mortar, and -yet this sentimental mood of hers belonged to those more -exquisite sensibilities that save life from being nothing -better than a savage scramble.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A streak of light showed at one of the windows. -Eve straightened herself, rested her head against the trunk -of the tree, and held her breath. The streak of light -spread into a wavering, fluctuating glow, just as if the -heart of the old house were palpitating angrily. But Eve -was allowed no leisure for the play of such phantasies. -The incendiaries returned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come along!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker was almost hysterical.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s going splendidly—splendidly! We found a big -cupboard full of rubbish under the stairs. I lit it. Yes, -it’s my work!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve became conscious of a growing indignation as they -beat a retreat back through the shrubbery and across the -field to the lane. They ran, and even the act of running -seemed to her shameful. What a noble business was this -sneaking about at one in the morning with petrol cans and -bags of shavings!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She snubbed Lawrence Kentucky when he pointed back -over the field gate and chuckled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s going up in smoke all right. We did that -pretty smartly!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It has been heroic, hasn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To her he was no better than a mean little boy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They crowded into the car. The lamps were lit, and -the engine started. The chauffeur drove dead slow along -the lane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s it, Jones; crawl for half a mile, and keep -her as quiet as you can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In another five minutes they were purring away into -the darkness. Eve, when she glanced back, could see a -faint glow above the tree tops.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker exulted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is something for them to talk about! That -will be in the papers to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve did not know how far they drove. The car kept -running for the best part of two hours. Mr. Lawrence -Kentucky was finessing, covering up their tracks, so to -speak. He turned in his seat once or twice and spoke to -Joan Gaunt. Day was just dawning when the car pulled up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This ought to do for you. You are three or four -miles from Farnham, and this is Crooksbury Hill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve threw aside her rug and climbed out. They had -stopped on a flinty road among the towering trunks of a -wood of Scots firs. The branches high overhead seemed -a black tangle hanging in the vague grey light of the -dawn. Not a bough moved. The great trees were asleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll be getting on. Running to Oxford. Put ’em -off the scent. Write and fix up the next. London address, -you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was saying good-bye, and receiving Lizzie Straker’s -more than friendly splutterings. The chauffeur, a swarthy -young blackguard, was grinning behind his master’s back. -Mr. Lawrence Kentucky stared hard at Eve, for she was -good to look at in the dawn light, with the smell of -the dew everywhere, and the great trees dreaming overhead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Au revoir, Miss Carfax! Hope you’ve enjoyed it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She gave him a casual nod, and went and sat down -on the bank at the side of the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt and Lizzie Straker, like the hardy veterans -that they were, lay down under the trees to snatch an -hour or two’s sleep, but Eve felt wakeful and in a mood -for thought. The night’s adventure had left her with an -impression of paltriness, and she kept picturing the black -shell of the burnt house standing pathetically in the midst -of its neglected garden. She remembered Lawrence Kentucky’s -chuckle, a peculiarly offensive and sneering chuckle. -Was that the sort of man who could be called a pioneer -of progress, or a knight of Arthur’s Court? It struck her -as pathetic that these women should have christened him -Galahad. It just betrayed how little they knew about men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked up at the tall trees and was instantly -reminded of the fir woods at Fernhill. A quiver of emotion -swept through her. It had been just such a dawn as -this when she had fled from Orchards Corner. She realised -that she was wiser, broader, less sentimental now, and that -Canterton had not been the passionate visionary that she -had thought him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker woke up and shouted “Breakfast!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gentlewoman of Horsham had fitted them out -royally. They had a tea kettle to boil over a fire of dead -wood, a big bottle of water, ham sandwiches, buttered -scones, and a tin of Swiss milk. Even a tin opener had been -included. That breakfast under Crooksbury Hill reminded -Eve of Lynette’s fairy picnics in the Wilderness. The -larches would be all covered with green tassels. She wished -she was with Lynette in the Wilderness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Breakfast over, Joan Gaunt brought out her itinerary.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where do we go next? I’ve forgotten.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker licked a finger that had managed to get -itself smeared with Swiss milk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s see. Something beginning with B, wasn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes—Basingford.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The pupils of Eve’s eyes dilated. They were going to -Basingford!</p> - -<hr class='tbk136'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c39'></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>LYNETTE</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>They found themselves at the “Black Boar” at Basingford, -sitting round a green table under a may tree in the -garden. The “Black Boar” was an ancient hostelry, all -white plaster, black beams, and brown tiles, its sign -swinging on a great carved bracket, its parlour full of -pewter and brass. It had the pleasant smell of a farmhouse -rather than the sour odour of an inn. Everything -was clean, the brick-floored passages, the chintz -curtains at the windows, the oak stairs, the white coverlets -on the solid mahogany beds. A big grandfather clock -tick-tocked in the main passage. The garden at the back -ended in a bowling-green that was remarkably well kept, -its mown sward catching the yellow evening light through -the branches of ancient elms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were having tea under the may tree, whose trusses -of white blossom showered down an almost too sweet -perfume. At the edge of the lawn was a border packed -full of wallflowers, blood red and cloth of gold. It was -sunny and windless. The tops of the tall elms were -silhouetted against the blue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you going to preach here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was Eve who asked the question, and Joan Gaunt -who answered it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. We are just private individuals on a walking -tour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see. And that means?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Someone on the Black List.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve smothered a sigh of relief. From the moment of -entering Basingford she had felt the deep waters of life -flowing under her soul. She was herself, and more than -herself. A strange, premonitory exultation had descended -on her. Her mood was the singing of a bird at dawn, -full of the impulse of a mysterious delight, and of a -vitality that hovered on quivering wings. The lure of the -spring was in her blood, and she was ready to laugh -at the crusading faces of her comrades.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She pushed back her chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall go and have a wash.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What, another wash!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her laughter was a girl’s laughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I like to see the water dimpling in the sunlight, and -I like the old Willow Pattern basins. What are you going -to do?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan had letters to write. Lizzie was reading a book on -“Sex and Heredity.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve left them under the may tree, washed her face -and hands in the blue basin, tidied her hair, put on her -hat with unusual discrimination, and went out to play -the truant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She simply could not help it. The impulse would brook -no argument. She walked through Basingford in the direction -of Fernhill. She wanted to see the familiar outlines of the -hills, to walk along under the cypress hedges, to feel -herself present in the place that she loved so well. For -the moment she was conscious of no purpose that might -bring her into human contact with Fernhill. She wanted -memories. The woman in her desired to feel!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her first glimpse of the pine woods made her heart -go faster. Here were all the familiar lanes and paths. -Some of the trees were her intimates, especially a queer -dwarf who had gone all to tam-o’-shanter. Even the -ditches ran in familiar shadow lines, carrying her memories -along. From the lodge gate she could see the top of the -great sequoia that grew on the lawn before the Fernhill -house. It was absurd how it all affected her. She could -have laughed, and she could have wept.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then a voice, a subtle yet imperious voice, said, “Go -down to the Wilderness!” She bridled at the suggestion, -only to remind herself that she knew a path that would -take her round over the hill and down into the valley where -the larches grew. The impulse was stronger than anything -that she could oppose to it. She went.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The green secrecy of the wood received her. She passed -along the winding path between the straight, stiff poles -of the larches, the gloom of the dead lower boughs making -the living green above more vivid. It was like plunging -from realism into romance, or opening some quaint old book -after reading an article on the workings of the London -County Council. Eve was back in the world of beauty, -of mystery and strangeness. The eyes could not see too far, -yet vision was stopped by crowded and miraculous life and -not by bricks and mortar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The trees thinned. She was on the edge of the fairy -dell, and she paused instinctively with a feeling that was -akin to awe. How the sunlight poured down between the -green tree tops. Three weeks ago the bluebells must have -been one spreading mist of lapis-lazuli under the gloom of the -criss-cross branches. And the silence of it all. She knew -herself to be in the midst of mystery, of a vital something -that mattered more than all the gold in the world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Supposing Lynette should be down yonder?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve went forward slowly, and looked over the lip of -the dell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette was there, kneeling in front of the toy stove -that Eve had sent her for Christmas.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An extraordinary uprush of tenderness carried Eve away. -She stood on the edge of the dell and called:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette! Lynette!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The child’s hair flashed as she turned sharply. Her face -looked up at Eve, wonderingly, mute with surprise. Then -she was up and running, her red lips parted, her eyes -alight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Eve! Miss Eve!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They met half way, Eve melting towards the running -child like the eternal mother-spirit that opens its arms -and catches life to its bosom. They hugged and kissed. -Lynette’s warm lips thrilled the woman in Eve through -and through.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my dear, you haven’t forgotten me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I knew—I knew you’d come back again!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How did you know?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because I asked God. God must like to do nice -things sometimes, and of course, when I kept asking -Him——. And now you’ve come back for ever and -ever!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no, no!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you have. I asked God for that too, and I have -been so good that I don’t see, Miss Eve, dear, how He -could have said no.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve laughed, soft, tender laughter that was on the -edge of tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So you are still making feasts for the fairies?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, come and look. The water ought to be boiling. -I’ve got your stove. It’s a lovely stove. Daddy and I -make tea in it, and it’s splendid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Every thing was in readiness, the water on the boil, -the fairy teapot waiting to be filled, the sugar and milk -standing at attention. Eve and Lynette knelt down side -by side. They were back in the Golden Age, where no -one knew or thought too much, and where no one was -greedy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And they drink the tea up every night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nearly every night. And they’re so fond of cheese -biscuits.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t see any biscuits!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, daddy brings them in his pocket. He’ll be here -any minute. Won’t it be a surprise!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve awoke; the dream was broken; she started to her -feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear, I must be getting back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no, no!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, really.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette seized her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You shan’t go. And, listen, there’s daddy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve heard a deep voice singing in a soft monotone, the -voice of one who hardly knew what he was singing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stood rigid, face averted, Lynette still holding her -hands and looking up intently into her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Eve, aren’t you glad to see daddy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A sudden silence fell. The man’s footsteps had paused -on the edge of the wood. It was as though the life in both -of them held its breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve turned. She had to turn to face something that was -inevitable. He was coming down the bank, his face in the -sunlight, his eyes staring straight at her as though there -were nothing else in the whole world for him to look at.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette’s voice broke the silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy, she wanted to run away!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve bent over her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, child, child!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her face hid itself for a moment in Lynette’s hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She heard Canterton speaking, and something in his -voice helped and steadied her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lynette has caught a fairy. She was always a very -confident mortal. How are you—how are you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He held out his hand, the big brown hand she remembered -so well, and hers went into it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, a little older!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But not too old for fairyland.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I never be too old for that.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk137'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c40'></a>CHAPTER XL</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>WHAT THEY SAID TO EACH OTHER</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>They walked back through the larchwood with Lynette -between them, keeping them apart, and yet holding a hand -of each.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Eve, where’ve you been all the winter? In -London?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, in London.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you like London better than Fernhill?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, not better. You see, there are no fairies in -London.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And did you paint pictures in London?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes. But people are in too much of a hurry -to look at pictures.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Vance, as much the time-table as ever, met -them where the white gate opened on to the heath garden. -It was Lynette’s supper hour, an absurd hour, she called -it, but she obeyed Miss Vance with great meekness, remembering -that God still had to be kept without an excuse -for being churlish.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve and Miss Vance smiled reminiscently at each other. -It was Miss Vance’s last term at Fernhill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good night, Miss Eve, dear. You will come again -to-morrow?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes; I will try to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton and Eve were left alone together, standing -by the white gate that opened into the great gardens of -Fernhill. Canterton had been silent, smilingly silent. Eve -had dreaded being left alone with him, but now that she -was alone with him, she found that the dread had passed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you come and see the gardens?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He opened the gate and she passed through.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>May was a month that Eve had missed at Fernhill, -and it was one of the most opulent of months, the month -of rhododendrons, azaleas, late tulips, anemones, and Alpines. -Never since last year’s roses had she seen such colour, such -bushes of fire, such quiet splendour. It was a beauty that -overwhelmed and silenced; Oriental in some of its magnificence, -yet wholly pure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The delicate colouring of the azaleas fascinated her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never knew there were such subtle shades. What -are they?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ghents. They are early this year. Most people know -only the old Mollis. There are such an infinite number -of colours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“These are just like fire—magic fire, burning pale, -and burning red, the colour of amber, or the colour -of rubies.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They wandered to and fro, Eve pointing out the flowers -that pleased her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We think the same as we did last year—am I to -know anything?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked up at him quickly, with a quivering of the -lashes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, if you wish it! But I am not a renegade.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never suggested it. How is London?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her face hardened a little, and her mouth lost its -exquisite delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Being here, I realise how I hate London to live and -struggle in. What is the use of pretending? I tried my -strength there, and I was beaten. So now——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She paused, shrinking instinctively from telling him that -she had become one of the marching, militant women. -Fernhill, and this man’s presence, seemed to have smothered -the aggressive spirit—rendered it superfluous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes waited.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am on a walking tour with friends.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Painting?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, proselytising.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As a Suffragette?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, as a Militant Suffragette.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She detested the label with which she had to label herself, -for she had a sure feeling that it would not impress him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had wondered.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His voice was level and unprejudiced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then it doesn’t shock you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, because I know what life may have been for -you, trying to sell art to pork-butchers. It is hard not to -become bitter. Won’t you let me hear the whole story?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were in the rosery, close to a seat set back in -a recess cut in the yew hedge. Eve thought of that day -when she had found him watching Guinevere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you listen?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been listening ever since the autumn, trying -to catch any sounds that might come to me from where -you were.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They sat down, about two feet apart, half turned -towards each other. But Eve did not look at Canterton. -She looked at the stone paths, the pruned rose bushes, -the sky, the outlines of the distant firs. Words came -slowly at first, but in a while she lost her self-consciousness. -She felt that she could tell him everything, -and she told him everything, even her adventure with Hugh -Massinger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then, suddenly, she was conscious that a cloud had -come. She glanced at his face, and saw that he was angry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why didn’t you write?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I couldn’t. And you are angry with me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With you! Good God, no! I am angry with society, -with that particular cad, and that female, the Champion -woman. I think I shall go and half kill that man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stretched out a hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t! I should not have told you. Besides, it is -all over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He contradicted her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, these things leave a mark—an impression.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Need it be a bad one?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps not. It depends.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“On ourselves? Don’t you think that I am broader, -wiser, more the queen of my own soul? I am beginning -to laugh again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stared at his clasped hands, and then raised his -eyes suddenly to her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His uttering of the name thrilled her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you are wiser, why are you gadding about with -these fools?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She gave a little nervous laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, because they were kind to me, because they -are out to better things for women.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have they a monopoly of all the kindness?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I—I don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, you do. I am an ordinary sort of man in -many ways, and we, the average men, have a growing -understanding of what are called the wrongs of women. -Give me one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She flushed slightly, and hesitated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They—they want us to bribe them when we want -work—success.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know. It is the blackguard’s game. But women -can change that. The best men want to change it. But -I ask you, are there no female cads who demand of men -what some men demand of women?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is not all on one side. How are many male -careers made? Isn’t there favouritism there too? I know -men who would never be where they are, but for the fact -that they were sexually favoured by certain women. I could -quote you some pretty extraordinary cases, high up, near the -summit. Besides, a sex war is the maddest sort of war -that could be imagined.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She felt driven to bay.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But can we help fighting sometimes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is a difference between quarrelling and fighting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, come!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is, when you come to think about it. I want -neither. Does quarrelling ever help us?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It may.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When it drags us at once to a lower, baser, more -prejudiced level? And do you think that these fanatics -who burn houses are helping their cause?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Some of them have suffered very bitterly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and that is the very plea that damns them. -They are egotists who must advertise their sufferings. -Supposing we all behaved like lunatics when we had a -grievance? Isn’t there something finer and more convincing -than that? The real women are winning the equality -that they want, but these fools are only raising obstinate -prejudices. Am I, a fairly reasonable man, to be bullied, -threatened and nagged at? Instinctively the male fist comes -up, the fist that balances the woman’s sharper tongue. -For God’s sake, don’t let us get to back-alley arguments. -Sex is marriage, marriage at its best, reasonable and -human. Let’s talk things over by the fireside, try not to -be little, try to understand each other, try to play the game -together. What is the use of kicking the chessboard over? -Perhaps other people, our children, have to pick up the -pieces.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Because she had more than a suspicion that he was -right, she began to quote Mrs. Falconer, and to give him -all the extreme theories. He listened closely enough, but -she knew intuitively that he was utterly unimpressed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you yourself believe all that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No; not all of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It comes to this, you are quoting abnormal people. -You can’t generalise for the million on the idiosyncrasies -of the few. These women are abnormal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the workers are normal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Many of them lead abnormal lives. But do you -think that we men do not want to see all that -bettered?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you would give us the vote?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes glimmered with sudden mischief, and his -answered them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly, to the normal women. Why not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are all the male voters normal?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t make me say cynical things. If so many -hundreds of thousands of fools have the vote at present, -I do not see that it matters much if many more thousands -of fools are given it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That isn’t you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is a sensible, if a cynical conclusion. But I hope -for something better. We are at school, we moderns, -and we may be a little too clever. But if any parson -tells me that we are not better than our forefathers, I can -only call him a liar.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that’s healthy—that’s sound. I’m tired of thinking—criticising. -I want to do things. It may be that -quiet work in a corner is better than all the talking that -ever was.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course. Read Pasteur’s life. There’s the utter -damning of the merely political spirit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He pulled out his watch and looked at it reflectively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Half-past six. Where are you staying?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At the ‘Black Boar.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have something that I should like to show you. -Have you time?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She smiled at him shyly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now and again time doesn’t matter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton led her through the great plantations to the -wild land on the edge of the fir woods where he had built -the new cottage. It was finished, but empty. The garden -had been turfed <a id='and'></a>and planted, and beyond the young yew -hedge the masses of sandstone were splashed with diverse -colours.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s new!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quite! I built it in the winter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stood at gaze, her lips quivering.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How does it please you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I like it! It is just the cottage one dreams -about when one is in a London suburb. And that rock -garden! The colours are as soft and as gorgeous as the -colours on a Persian dish.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton had the key with him. They walked up the -path that was paved with irregular blocks of stone. Eve’s -eyes saw the date on the porch. She understood in a flash -why he had not told her for whom he had built it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton unlocked the door. A silence fell upon her, -and her eyes became more shadowy and serious as she -went from room to room and saw all the exquisite but -simple details, all the thought that had been put into this -cottage. Everything was as she would have imagined it for -herself. She touched the oak panelling with the tips of -her fingers and smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is just perfect!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took her to one of the windows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The vision is not cramped?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked away over the evening landscape, and the -broad valley was bathed in gold. It was very beautiful, -very still. Eve could hear the sound of her own breathing. -And for the moment she could not look at Canterton, -could not speak to him. She guessed what was in his -mind, and knew what was in her own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A place to dream in!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yet it was built for a worker!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She rested her hands on the window sill, steadying -herself, and looking out over the valley. Canterton went on -speaking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can guess for whom this was built.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can guess.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Man, as man, has shocked you. I offer no bribes. -I ask for none. You trust me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He could hardly hear her “Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know that chance brought us together to-day. May -I make use of it? I am remembering my promise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps it was more than chance. It was rash of me -to want to see Lynette. And I trust you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stood back a little, leaving her by the window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, I do not ask for anything. I only say, here -is a life for you—a working life. Live it and express -yourself. Do things. You can do them. No one will be -prouder of your work than I shall be. In creating a -woman’s career, you can help other women.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her lips were quivering.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I trust you! But it is such a prospect. You -don’t know. I can’t face it all in a moment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t ask you to do that. Go away, if you wish -it, think it over, and decide. Don’t think of me, the man, -the comrade. Think of the working life, of your art, the -real life—just that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He made a movement towards the door, and she -understood the delicacy of his self-effacement, and the fine -courtesy that forefelt her sensitive desire to escape to be -alone. They passed out into the garden. Canterton spoke -again as he opened the gate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I still believe all that I believed last summer!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had to wait for her answer, but it came.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am older than I was. I have suffered a little. -That refines or hardens. One does not ask for everything -when one has had nothing. And yet I do not -know what to say to you—the man.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk138'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c41'></a>CHAPTER XLI</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>CAMPING IN THE FIR WOODS</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker and Joan Gaunt were at supper when Eve -walked into their private sitting-room at the “Black Boar.” -Eight o’clock had struck, but the window of the room -faced west, and the lamp on the table had not been lit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re pretty late.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve sat down without taking off her hat. She had a -feeling that these two had been discussing her just before -she had come into the room, and that things which she -was not expected to see had been, so to speak, pushed -hurriedly under the sofa.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve had a long ramble, and I’m hungry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She found a round of cold beef, and a dish of young -lettuces on the table. Her companions had got as far as -milk pudding and stewed rhubarb.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must have been walking about four solid hours. -Did you get lost?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. I used to live down here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They stared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, did you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve got pretty hot, anyhow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I walked fast. I went farther than I meant to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Meet any friends?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One or two.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She caught a pair of mistrustful eyes fixed on her. -They belonged to Joan Gaunt, who sat at the end of -the table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think we’ll have the lamp, Lizzie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Right oh! or Eve won’t be able to hunt the slugs -out of the lettuces.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t be beastly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You might cut me a piece of bread.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lamp was lit. The other two had finished their -supper, but appeared inclined to sit there and watch -Eve eat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You met some old friends?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope you were careful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course. I told them I was on a walking tour. -I dare say I shan’t see them again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. I don’t think you’d better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Something in Joan Gaunt’s voice annoyed her. It was -quietly but harshly dictatorial, and Eve stiffened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think you need worry. I can look after my -own affairs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you live in Basingford?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. Out in the country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker and Joan Gaunt exchanged glances. Something -had happened to the woman in Eve, a something -that was so patent and yet so mysterious that even these -two fanatics noticed it and were puzzled. Had she looked -into a mirror before entering the sitting-room, she would -have been struck by a physical transfiguration of which -she was for the moment unconscious. She had changed into -a more spring-like and more sensitive study of herself. -There was the indefinable suggestion of bloom upon fruit. -Her face looked fuller, her skin more soft, her lips redder, -her eyes brighter yet more elusive. She had been bathing -in deep and magic waters and had emerged with a shy -tenderness hovering about her mouth, and an air of -sensuous radiance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Supper was cleared away. The lamp was replaced on -the table. Joan Gaunt brought out a note-book and her -cypher-written itinerary. Lizzie Straker lit a cigarette.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Business!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They exchanged glances.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come along, Eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Somehow the name seemed to strike all three of them -with symbolical suggestiveness. Her comrades looked at -her mistrustfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They sat down at the table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As you happen to know people here, you had better -be on your guard. There is work to be done here. I -have just wired to Galahad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve met Joan Gaunt’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are there black sheep in Basingford?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A particularly black one. An anti-suffrage lunatic. -She has been on platforms against us. That makes one -feel bitter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So it’s a she!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s a traitress—a fool.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder if I know her name.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s Canterton—Mrs. James Canterton.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was leaning her elbows on the table, trying not -to show how this news affected her. And suddenly she -began to laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt’s face stiffened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you laughing at?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was wholesome, helpless, exquisite laughter that -escaped and bubbled over from a delicious sense of fun. -What an ironical comedy. Eve did not realise the complete -significance of what she said until she had said it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, I should have thought she was one of us!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her two comrades stared. They were becoming more -and more puzzled, by this feminine thing that did not -shape as they expected it to shape.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t see anything to laugh at.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve did.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But she ought to belong to us!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You seem to find it very funny. I don’t see anything -funny about a woman being a political pimp for the -men, and a rotten sentimentalist.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should never have called Mrs. Canterton a sentimentalist.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course, you know her!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A little.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, she’s marked down here with three asterisks. -That means trouble for her. Of course, she’s married.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And dotes on her husband and children, and all -that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve grew serious.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, that’s the strange part of it. She and her husband -don’t run in double harness. And she’s a fool with her -own child.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But that’s absurd. I suppose her husband has treated -her badly, as most of them do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t think so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In nine cases out of ten it’s the man’s fault.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps this is the tenth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, rot! There’s a man somewhere. There must -be someone else besides her husband, or she wouldn’t be -talking for the men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think so. If you knew Mrs. Canterton, you -might understand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet she doubted whether they would have understood, -for busybodies and extremists generally detest each other, -especially when they are arguing from opposite sides of -the table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve wanted to be alone, to think things out, to face -this new crisis that had opened before her so suddenly. It -was the more dangerous and problematical since the strong -current of her impulses flowed steadily towards Fernhill. -She went to bed early, leaving Joan Gaunt and Lizzie -Straker writing letters.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the door had closed on Eve, they put down -their pens and looked at each other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Something funny.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s happened to her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker giggled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s met someone, a man, I suppose. That’s how it -struck me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan looked grim.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t giggle like that. She has been puzzling me -for a long time. Once or twice I have almost suspected -her of laughing at us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This sobered Lizzie Straker.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What! I should like to see her laugh at me! I’ve -learnt jiu-jitsu. I’d suppress her!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The question is, is she to be trusted? I’m not so -sure that our Horsham friend wasn’t right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, don’t tell her too much. And test her. Make -her fire the next place. Then she’ll be compromised.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s an idea!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She has always hung back and let us do the work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They looked at each other across the table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right. We had better go and scout by ourselves -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Galahad ought to be here by lunch time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We can make our arrangements. Leave after tea, hide -in the woods, and do the job after dark.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve slept well, in spite of all her problems. She woke -to the sound of a blackbird singing in the garden, and -the bird’s song suited her waking mood, being just the -thing that Nature suggested. She slipped out of bed, -drew back the chintz curtains, and looked out on a dewy -lawn all dappled with yellow sunlight. The soul of the -child and of the artist in her exulted. She wanted to -play with colours, to express herself, to make pictures. -Yes; but she wanted more than that, and she knelt -down in her nightdress before the looking-glass, and leaning -her elbows on the table, stared into her own eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She questioned herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Woman, can you trust yourself? It is a big thing, -such a big thing, both for him, and for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a sulky breakfast table that morning. Lizzie -Straker had the grumps, and appeared to be on the watch -for something that could be pounced on. She was ready -to provoke Eve into contradicting her, but the real Eve, -the Eve that mattered, was elsewhere. She hardly heard -what Lizzie Straker said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We move on this evening!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does that interest you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not more than usual.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A telegram lay half hidden under Joan Gaunt’s plate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lizzie and I are going off for a ramble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The hint that Eve was not wanted was conveyed with -frankness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You had better stay in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear comrade, why?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you are known here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That doesn’t sound very logical. Still, I don’t -mind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dictator in Joan Gaunt was speaking, but Eve -was not irked by her tyranny on this particular morning. -She was ready to laugh gently, to bear with these two -women, whose ignorance was so pathetic. She would be -content to spend the day alone, sitting under one of the -elms at the end of the bowling green, and letting herself -dream. The consciousness that she was on the edge of a -crisis did not worry her, for somehow she believed that -the problem was going to solve itself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt and Lizzie Straker started out from Basingford -soon after nine, and chartered a small boy, who, for the -sum of a penny, consented to act as guide to Fernhill. -But all this was mere strategy, and when they had got -rid of the boy, they turned aside into the fir woods -instead of presenting themselves at the office where would-be -visitors were supposed to interview one of the clerks. -Joan Gaunt had a rough map drawn on a piece of note-paper, -a map that had been sent down from headquarters. -They explored the fir woods and the heath lands between -Fernhill and Orchards Corner, and after an hour’s hunt -they discovered what they had come in search of—Canterton’s -new cottage standing with white plaster and black -beams between the garden of rocks and the curtained gloom -of the fir woods.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt scribbled a few additional directions on -the map. They struck a rough sandy road that was used -for carting timber, and this woodland road joined the lane -that ran past Orchards Corner. It was just the place for -Galahad’s car to be hidden in while they made their night -attack on the empty cottage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the meanwhile Eve was sitting under one of the -elms at the end of the bowling green with a letter-pad -on her knees. She had concluded that her comrades had -designs upon Canterton’s property, that they meant to make -a wreck of his glass-houses and rare plants, or to set fire -to the sheds and offices, and she had not the slightest -intention of suffering any such thing to happen. She -was amused by the instant thoroughness of her own -treachery. Her impulses had deserted without hesitation -to the opposite camp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She wrote:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am writing in case I should not see you to-day. -My good comrades are Militants, and your name is anathema. -I more than suspect that some part of your property will -be attacked to-night. I send you a warning. But I do -not want these comrades of mine to suffer because I choose -to play renegade. Balk them and let them go.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am thinking hard,</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-bottom:1em;'>“<span class='sc'>Eve</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>She wrote “Important ” and “Private” on the envelope, -and appealed to the proprietor of the “Black Boar” to provide -her with a reliable messenger to carry her letter to -Fernhill. An old gentleman was taking a glass of beer in -the bar, and this same old gentleman lived as a pensioner -in one of the Fernhill cottages. He was sent out to see -Eve, who handed him a shilling and the letter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want Mr. Canterton to get this before twelve -o’clock, and I want you to make sure he has it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll make sure o’ that, miss. I ain’t likely to -forget.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He toddled off, and before twelve o’clock Eve knew -that her warning had carried, for a boy on a bicycle -brought her a note from Canterton.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Many thanks indeed. I understand. Let nothing -prejudice you.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt and Lizzie Straker returned about half-past -twelve, and five minutes later a big grey motor pulled -up outside the inn. Mr. Lawrence Kentucky climbed out, -and went in to order lunch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From her room Eve had a view of the bowling green -and of the doorway of a little summer-house that stood -under the row of elms. She saw Lizzie Straker walk out -into the garden and arrive casually at the door of the -summer-house. Two minutes later Lawrence Kentucky -wandered out with equal casualness, appeared drawn by -some invisible and circuitous thread to the summer-house, -and vanished inside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve smiled. It was a comedy within a comedy, but -there was no cynical edge to her amusement. She felt -more kindly towards Lizzie Straker, and perhaps Eve pitied -her a little because she seemed so incapable of distinguishing -between gold and brass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lawrence Kentucky did not stay more than five minutes -in the summer-house. He had received his instructions, -and Joan Gaunt’s map, and a promise from Lizzie Straker -that she would keep watch in the lane up by Orchards -Corner, so that he should not lose himself in the Fernhill -woods. Lawrence Kentucky went in to lunch, and drove -away soon afterwards in his big grey car.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She found that Lizzie Straker was in a bad temper -when they sat down to lunch. The <span class='it'>tête-à-tête</span> in the summer-house -had been too impersonal to please her, and Lawrence -Kentucky had shown great tactlessness in asking questions -about Eve. “Is Miss Carfax here? Where did you pick -her up? Oh, one of Pallas’s kittens! Jolly good-looking -girl.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie was feeling scratchy, and she sparred with Eve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re a puzzler. I don’t believe you’re a bit keen, -not what I call keen. I can’t sleep sometimes before -doing something big.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m quite keen enough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think you show it. You’ll have to buck up -a bit, won’t she, Joan? We have to send in sealed -reports, you know. Mrs. Falconer expects to know the -inside of everybody.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps she expects too much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Anyhow, it’s her money we’re spending.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve flushed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall pay her back some day before very long.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You needn’t think I called you a sponger—I didn’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well, would it have mattered?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They spent the afternoon in the garden, and had tea -under the may tree. Joan Gaunt had asked for the bill, and -for three packets of sandwiches. They paid the one, and -stowed the sandwiches away in their knapsacks, and about -five o’clock they resumed their walking tour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A march of two miles brought them into the thick -of the fir woods, and they had entered them by the -timber track without meeting a soul. Joan Gaunt chose a -spot where a clump of young firs offered a secret camping -ground, for the lower boughs of the young trees being -still green and bushy, made a dense screen that hid them -admirably.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve understood that a night attack was imminent, -and realised that no individual rambles would be authorised -by Joan Gaunt. She was to be penned in with these -two fanatics for six long hours, an undenounced traitor who -had betrayed them into the enemy’s hands. Canterton -would have men on guard, and for the moment she was -tempted to tell them the truth and so save them from -being fooled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But some subtle instinct held her back. She felt herself -to be part of the adventure, that she would allow -circumstances to lead, circumstances that might prove of -peculiar significance. She was curious to see what would -happen, curious to see how the woman in her would react.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Eve lay down among the young firs with her -knapsack under her head, and watched the sunlight playing -in the boughs of the veterans overhead. They made a net -of sable and gold that stretched out over her, a net that -some god might let fall to tangle the lives of women and -of men. She felt the imminence of Nature, felt herself -part of the mysterious movement that could be sensed -even in this solemn brooding wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her two comrades lay on their fronts, each with a chin -thrust out over a book. But Lizzie Straker soon grew -restless. She kept clicking her heels together, and picking -up dry fir cones and pulling them to pieces. Eve watched -her from behind half closed lids.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She felt sorry for Lizzie Straker, because she guessed -instinctively that Nature was playing her deep game even -with this rebel.</p> - -<hr class='tbk139'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c42'></a>CHAPTER XLII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>NATURE SMILES</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>About eleven o’clock Lizzie Straker’s restlessness overflowed -into action. She got up, whispered something to -Joan Gaunt, and was about to push her way through -the young fir trees when the elder woman called her -back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must keep together.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t loaf about here any longer. I’m catching -cold. And I promised to keep a look-out in the lane.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt brought out her electric lamp and glanced -at her watch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is only just eleven.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He said he might be here early.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Obviously Lizzie Straker meant to have her way, -and her having it meant that Joan and Eve had to break -camp and move into the timber track that joined the lane. -The night was fairly dark, but Joan Gaunt had taken care -to scatter torn scraps of white paper between the clump -of firs and the woodland track. A light wind had risen, -and the black boughs of the firs swayed vaguely against -the sky. The sandy track was banked with furze, broom, -and young birch trees, and here and there between the -heather were little islands of short sweet turf that had -been nibbled by rabbits. Joan Gaunt and Eve spread -their coats on one of these patches of turf, while Lizzie -Straker went on towards the lane to watch for Galahad.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve heard the turret clock at Fernhill strike twelve. -The wind in the trees kept up a constant under-chant, so -that the subdued humming of Kentucky’s car as it crept -up the lane was hardly distinguishable from the wind-song -overhead. Two beams of light swung into the dark -colonnade, thrusting yellow rays in among the firs, and -splashing on the gorse and heather. The big car was -crawling dead slow, with Lizzie Straker standing on the step -and holding on to one of the hood-brackets. Jones, the -chauffeur, was driving.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here we are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker jumped down excitedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was a good thing I went. He’d have missed the -end of the lane. Wouldn’t you, old sport?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was looking for you, you know, and not for sign-posts.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get along, sir! You’re not half serious enough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s good. And me asking for penal servitude -and playing the hero.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He climbed out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You had better turn her here, Jones, so that we shall -have her nose pointing the right way if we have to get -off in a hurry. Hallo, Miss Gaunt, you ought to be out -in the Balkans doing the Florence Nightingale! What!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker was keeping close to him, with that air -of ownership that certain women assume towards men -who are faithful to no particular woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is Miss Carfax with you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rather! She’s here all right. We are going to make -her do the lighting up to-night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Plenty of inflammable stuff here, Miss Carfax. You -can include me if you like.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the joke did not carry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The chauffeur had turned the car and put out the lamps. -The war material was stored in a big locker under the -back seat, and consisted of a couple of cans of petrol, half -a sack of shavings, and a bundle of tow. The chauffeur -passed them out to Kentucky, who had taken off his heavy -coat and thrown it into the car.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now then, all ready, comrades?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Joan knows the way!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve’s mute acceptance of the adventure was not -destined to survive the night-march through the fir woods. -She was walking beside Joan Gaunt, who led the attacking -party, Lizzie Straker shadowing Lawrence Kentucky, Jones, -the chauffeur, carrying the petrol cans and bringing up -the rear. The grey sandy track wound like a ribbon -among the black boles of the firs, whose branches kept -up a sibilant whispering as the night wind played through -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It struck Eve that they were going in the wrong -direction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are walking away from Fernhill!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt snapped a retort out of the darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are not going to Fernhill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was puzzled. She might have asked in the words -of unregenerate man, “Then where the devil are you -going?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In another moment she had guessed at their objective, -remembering Canterton’s cottage that stood white and new -and empty, under the black benisons of the tall firs. -Her cottage! She thought of it instantly as something -personal and precious, something that was symbolical, something -that these <span class='it'>pétroleuses</span> should never harm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you going to burn this time?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A new house that belongs to the Cantertons of -Fernhill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve’s sense of humour was able to snatch one instant’s -laughter from the unexpectedness of the adventure. What -interplay life offered. What a jest circumstances were -working off on her. She was being challenged to declare -herself, subjected to a Solomon’s judgment, posed by -being asked to destroy something that had been created -for the real woman in herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was conscious of a tense feeling at the heart, and -a quickening of her breathing. The physical part of her -was to be embroiled. She heard Lizzie Straker giggling -noiselessly, and the sound angered her, touched some red -spot in her brain. She felt her muscles quivering.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would it be the cottage?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her doubts were soon set at rest, for Joan Gaunt -turned aside along a broad path that led through a dense -plantation. It was thick midnight here, but as the trees -thinned Eve saw a whiteness shining through—the white -walls of Canterton’s cottage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the moment her brain felt fogged. She was -trembling on the edge of action, yet still held back and -waited.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The whole party hesitated on the edge of the -wood, the women and Lawrence Kentucky speaking in -whispers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Seems all right!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Silent as the proverbial tomb!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll go round and reconnoitre.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stole off with jerky, striding vehemence, pushed -through a young thuja hedge, and disappeared behind the -house. In two minutes he was back again, spitting with -satisfaction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Splendid! All dark and empty oh. Come forrard. -We’ll persuade one of the front windows.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They pushed through between the soft cypresses and -reached the lawn in front of the cottage where the grey -stone path went from the timber porch to the hedge of -yews. Kentucky and the chauffeur piled their war-plant in -the porch, and being rapid young gentlemen, lost no time -in attacking one of the front windows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are not going to burn this house!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve hardly knew her own voice when she spoke. It -sounded so thin, and quiet, and cold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker whisked round like a snappy terrier.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did you say?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This house is not going to be burnt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What rot are you talking?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I mean just what I say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t talk bosh!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I tell you, I am in earnest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker made a quick movement, and snatched -at Eve’s wrist. She thrust her face forward with a kind -of back-street truculence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What d’you mean?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What I have said.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Joan, d’you hear? She’s trying to rat. What’s the -matter with you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing. Only I have ceased to believe in these -methods.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you have, have you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even in the dim light Eve could see the expanded -nostrils and threatening eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let my wrist go!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a bit of it. What’s this particular house to you? -What have you turned soft for? Out with it. I suppose -there’s a man somewhere at the back of your mind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a sound in Lizzie Straker’s voice that -reminded Eve of the ripping of calico.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am simply telling you that this cottage is not -going to be burnt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Joan, d’you hear that? You—you can’t stop it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve twisted free.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have only to shout rather strenuously. The Fernhill -people are on the alert. Unless you tell Mr. Kentucky, or -Galahad as you please to call him——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lizzie Straker sprang at her like a wild cat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sneak, rat, moral prostitute!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve had never had to face such a mad thing, a thing -that was so tempestuously and hysterically vindictive. -Lizzie Straker might have been bred in the slums and -taught to bite and kick and scratch like a frenzied animal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You beast! You sneak! We shan’t burn the place, -shan’t we? Leave her to me, Joan, I say. I’ll teach her -to play the traitor!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was a strong young woman, but she was attacked -by a fanatic who was not too furious to forget the Japanese -tricks she had learnt at a wrestling school.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve got you. I’ll pin you down, you beastly -sneak!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She tripped Eve and threw her, and squirming over -her, pinioned Eve’s right arm in such a way that she had -her at her mercy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You little brute, you’re breaking my arm!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will break it, if you don’t lie still.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt had been watching the tussle, ready to -intervene if her comrade were in danger of being worsted. -Lawrence Kentucky and the chauffeur had their heads inside -the window that they had just succeeded in forcing, when the -porch door opened suddenly, and a man rushed out. He -swung round, pivoting by one hand round one of the -corner posts of the porch, and was on the two men at -the window before they could run. To Joan Gaunt, who -had turned as the door opened, it was like watching three -shadows moving against the white wall of the cottage. -The big attacking shadow flung out long arms, and the -lesser shadows toppled and melted into the obscurity of -mother earth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lizzie, look out!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Joan Gaunt had plenty of pluck, but she was sent -staggering by a hand-off that would have grassed most full-backs -in the kingdom. Canterton bent over the two -women. One hand gripped Lizzie Straker’s back, crumpling -up the clothes between the shoulder blades, the other went -under her chin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let go!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shan’t. I’ll break her arm if——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the primitive and male part of Canterton had -thrown off the little niceties of civilisation. Thumb and -fingers came together mercilessly, and with the spasm of her -crushed larynx, Lizzie Straker let go her hold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You damned cat!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He lifted her bodily, and pitched her two yards away -on to the grass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come on, you chaps. Collar those two beggars over -there!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were no men to back him, but the ruse answered. -Joan Gaunt had clutched Lizzie Straker, dragged her up, -dazed and coughing, and was hurrying her off towards -the fir woods. Lawrence Kentucky and Jones, the chauffeur, -had also taken to their heels, and had reached the thuja -hedge behind the house. The party coalesced, broke through, -melted away into the darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve was on her feet, breathless, and white with a great -anger. She knew that just at the moment that Canterton -had used his strength, Lizzie Straker had tried to break -her arm.</p> - -<hr class='tbk140'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c43'></a>CHAPTER XLIII</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>EVE COMES TO HERSELF</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton went as far as the hedge, but did not follow -the fugitives any farther. He stood there for two or three -minutes, understanding that a sensitive woman who had been -involved in a vulgar scrimmage would not be sorry to be -left alone for a moment while she recovered her poise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then he heard Eve calling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where are you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He turned instantly, and walked back round the cottage -to find her standing close to the porch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, I thought you might be following them. Let -them go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wanted nothing better than to be rid of them. Are -you hurt?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That dear comrade of mine tried to break my arm. -The elbow hurts rather badly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me feel.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went close, and she stretched out her arm and let -his big hands move gently over it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The landmarks seem all right. Can you bend it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes! It is only a bit of a wrench.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit down. There is a seat here in the porch. I -thought you would like it. There is something pleasant -in the idea of sitting at the doorway of one’s home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And growing old and watching the oak mellowing. -They have left their petrol and shavings here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll dispose of them presently.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His hands touched hers by accident, but her fingers -did not avoid his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not know that the cottage was to be the -victim. I only found out just at the last. How did you -happen to be here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit down, dear, and I will tell you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The quiet tenderness had come back into his voice. -He was the comrade, the lover, the father of Lynette, -the self-master, the teller of fairy stories, the maker of droll -rhymes. Eve had no fear of him. His nearness gave her -a mysterious sense of peace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a comfortable seat!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just free of the south-west wind. You could read -and work here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sighed wistfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I shall work here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Neither of them spoke of surrender, or hinted at the -obvious accomplishment of an ideal. Their subtle understanding -of each other seemed part of the darkness, something -that enveloped them, and did not need to be defined. -Eve’s hand lay against Canterton’s on the oak seat. The -lightest of touches was sufficient. She was learning that -the light, delicate touches, the most sensitive vibrations, -are the things that count in life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How did you happen to be here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You had given me a warning, and I came to guard -the most precious part of my property.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you were listening? You heard?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, everything, especially that wild cat’s tin-plate -voice. What of the great movement?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She gave a subtle little laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had just found out how impossible they are. I -had been realising it slowly. Directly I got back into the -country my old self seemed to return.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you did not harmonise with the other—ladies?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. They did not seem to have any senses, whereas -I felt part of the green stuff of the earth, and not a -bit of grit under Nature’s big toe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s good. You can laugh again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and more kindly, even at those two enthusiasts, -one of whom tried to break my arm.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid I handled her rather roughly; but people -who appeal to violence must be answered with violence.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lizzie Straker always came in for the rough treatment. -She couldn’t talk to a crowd without using the poison -that was under her tongue. She always took to throwing -vitriol.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, the business has got into the hands of the wrong -people.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They sat in silence for a while, and it was the silence -of two people who lean over a gate, shoulder to shoulder, -and look down upon some fine stretch of country rolling -to the horizon. It was the togetherness that mattered. -Each presence seemed to absorb the other, and to obtain -from it an exquisite tranquillity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve withdrew her hand, and Canterton saw her touch -her hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it? The arm?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No; but my hat and hair.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How much more serious. And what admirable distress. -I think I can help. Take this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He brought out a pocket electric lamp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I always carry this at night. It is most useful in -a garden. There is an old Venetian mirror hanging at the -top of the stairs. While you are at work I will clear -away all this stuff.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What will you do with it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pitch the shavings into the coal cellar. The petrol -we can use—quite ironically—in an hour’s time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been thinking. Go in and look into that -Venetian mirror!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She touched his arm with the tips of her fingers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear, I trust you. I do, utterly. I couldn’t help it, -even if you were not to be trusted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that Nature?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think it must be!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Put all fear out of your heart.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She rose and drew apart, yet with a suggestion of -lingering and of the gliding away of a dear presence that -would quickly return. The light of the pocket lamp flashed -a yellow circle on the oak door. She pushed it open and -entered the cottage, and climbed the stairs with a new -and delightful sense of possession. She was conscious no -longer of problems, disharmonies, the suppression of all that -was vital in her. A spacious life had opened, and she entered -it as one enters a June garden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton had cleared away Lawrence Kentucky’s war -material, and Eve found him sitting in the porch when -she returned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very tired?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I talk a little longer?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat down beside him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our comradeship starts from now. May I assume -that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I dare to assume it, because one learns not to ask -too much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, that’s it. Life, at its best, is a very delicate -perfume. The gross satisfactions don’t count in the long -run. I want you to do big things. I want us to do -them together. And Lynette shall keep us two healthy -children.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She thought a moment, staring into the night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And when Lynette grows up?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think she will love you the better. And we shall -never tarnish her love. Are you content?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He bent towards her, and took one of her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dearest of women! think, consider, before you pledge -yourself. Can you bear to surrender so much for the working -life I can give you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She answered him under her breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. I want a man for a comrade—a man who doesn’t -want to be bribed. Oh, my dear, let me speak out. Sex—sex -disgusted me in that London life. I revolted from it. -It made me hate men. Yet it is not sex that is wrong, -only our use of it. I think it is the child that counts -in those matters with a woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His hand held hers firmly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, will you grow hungry—ever?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For what?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Children!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She bent her head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will tell you. No. I think I can spend that part -of the woman in me on Lynette and on you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“On me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A woman’s love—I mean the real love—has some -of the mother spirit in it. Don’t you know that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He lifted her hand and kissed it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And may I grumble to you sometimes, little mother, -and come to you to be comforted when I am oppressed -by fools? You can trust me. I shall never make you -ashamed. And now, for practical things. You must be in -London to-morrow morning. I have worked it all out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Remember, I am a very independent young woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I know! Let me spend myself, sometimes. Have -you any luggage at the ‘Black Boar’?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, only my knapsack, which I left in the car.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fancy a woman travelling with nothing more than a -knapsack! Oh, Eve, my child!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t like it. I’ll own up. All my luggage is -stored with some warehouse people in town. I have the -receipts here in my purse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s luck—that’s excellent! We must walk round -to the Basingford road to miss any of my scouts. You -will wait there, say by the Camber cross-roads, while -I get my car out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He felt for his watch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you that lamp?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is here on the seat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just two o’clock. I shall tell my man I’m off in -chase of a party who made off in a car. I shall bring -you one of my greatcoats and pick you up at the cross-roads. -We shall be in London by five. We will get some -breakfast somehow, and then knock up the warehouse people -and pile your luggage into the back. I shall drive you to -a quiet hotel I know, and I shall leave you there. What -could be simpler? An independent young woman staying -at a quiet hotel, rather bored with London and inclined -to resume a discarded career.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed softly—happily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is simple! Then I shall have to write you a -formal letter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just that.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk141'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c44'></a>CHAPTER XLIV</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE NIGHT DRIVE</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve, waiting at the Camber cross-roads under the shadow -of a yew that grew in the hedgerow, saw an arm of light -sweep slowly down the open road before her, the glare -of Canterton’s headlights as his car rounded the wooded -corner about a quarter of a mile from the Fernhill -gates.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She remained in the shadow till she was sure that it -was Canterton, and that he was alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Pulling up, he saw her coming as a shadow out of -the shadows, a slim figure that detached itself from the -trunk of the yew.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right! Here’s a coat. Get into the back, and curl -yourself up. It’s as well that no Peeping Tom in Basingford -should discover that I have a passenger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve put on the coat, climbed in, and snuggled down -into the deeply cushioned seat so that she was hidden by the -coachwork. The car had not stopped for more than thirty -seconds, Canterton holding the clutch out with the first -speed engaged. They were on the move again, and, with deft -gear-changing, gliding away with hardly a sound.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve lay and looked at the sky, and at the dim tops -of the trees sliding by, trailing their branches across the -stars. She could see the outline of Canterton’s head and -shoulders in front of her, but never once did she see -his profile, for the car was travelling fast and he kept -his eyes on the winding road that was lit brilliantly by -the electric headlights. They swept through Basingford like -a charge of horse. Eve saw the spire of the church walk -by, a line of dark roofs undulating beneath it. The car -turned sharply into the London road, and the quickening -purr of the engine told of an open throttle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They drove ten miles before Canterton slowed up and -drew to the side of the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can join me now!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He leant over and opened the door, and she took the -seat beside him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Warm enough?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her throat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Button up that flap across the collar. That’s it. -And here’s a rug. I have had to keep myself glued to the -wheel for the last twenty minutes. There is a lot of common -land about here, and you never know when a cow or a -pony may drop from the skies.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were off again, with trees, hedgerows, gates, and -cottages rushing into the glare of the headlights, and -vanishing behind them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you like to sleep?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No; I feel utterly awake!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not distressfully so?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, not in that way. I have no regrets. And I think -I am very happy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He let the car race to her full speed along a straight -stretch of road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could drive over the Himalayas to-night—do anything. -You have a way of making me feel most exultantly -competent.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have I? How good. Shall I always be so stimulating?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked down at her momentarily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, because we shall not be crushing life to get all -its perfume.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Restraint keeps things vivid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s it—that’s what people don’t realise about -marriage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She thrilled to the swift motion of the car, and to -the knowledge that the imperturbable audacity of his driving -was a man’s tribute to her presence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose most people would say that we are utterly -wrong.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It would be utterly wrong, for most people.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But not for us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not for us. We are just doing the sane and logical -thing, because it is possible for us to live above the -conventions. Ordinary people have to live on make-believe, -and pretend they like it, and to shout ‘shame,’ -when the really clean people insist on living like free and -rational beings.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are not afraid of the old women!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good God! aren’t some of us capable of getting -above the sexual fog—above all that dull and pious -nastiness? That’s why I like a man like Shaw, who lets -off moral dynamite under the world’s immoral morality. -All the crusty, nonsensical notions come tumbling about -mediocrity’s ears. There are times when it is a man’s -duty to shock his neighbours!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve sat in silence for some minutes, watching the pale -road rushing towards them out of the darkness. Canterton -was not driving the car so strenuously, but was letting her -slide along lazily at fifteen miles an hour. Very soon -the dawn would be coming up, and the white points of -the stars would melt into invisibility.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We don’t want to be too early.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a pause, and then Eve uttered the thoughts -of the last half hour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One thing troubles me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your wife.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He slackened speed still further, so that he need not -watch the road so carefully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I feel that I am taking——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is hers?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His voice was steady and confident.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That need not trouble you. Neither the physical nor -the spiritual part of me owes anything to my wife. We -are just two strangers who happen to be tied together -by a convention. I am speaking neither ironically nor with -cynicism. They are just simple facts. I don’t know why -we married. I often marvel at what I must have been -then. Now I am nothing to her, nor she to me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you sure?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quite sure. Her interests are all outside my life, mine -outside hers. We happen to reside in the same house, -and meet at table. We do not quarrel, because we are -too indifferent to quarrel. You are taking nothing that she -would miss.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And yet!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it the secrecy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In a way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I am going to tell her. I had decided on that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned to him in astonishment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell her!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just the simple fact that I have an affection for -you, and that we are going to be fellow-workers. I shall -tell her that there is nothing for her to fear, that we -shall behave like sensible beings, that it is all clean, and -wholesome, and rational.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, my dear!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was overwhelmed for the moment by his audacious -sincerity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But will she believe?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She will believe me. Gertrude knows that I have -never shirked telling her the truth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And will she consent?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t doubt it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But surely, to a woman——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve, this sort of problem has always been so smirched -and distorted that most people seem unable to see its -outlines cleanly. I am going to make her see it cleanly. -It may sound strange to you, but I believe she is one -of the few women capable of taking a logical and restrained -view of it. The thing is not to hurt a woman’s self -love publicly. Often she will condone other sorts of -relationship if you save her that. In our case there is -going to be no sexual, backstairs business. You are too -sacred to me. You are part of the mystery of life, of the -beauty and strangeness and wonder of things. I love the -look in your eyes, the way your lips move, the way you -speak to me, every little thing that is you. Do you -think I want to take my flowers and crush them with -rough physical hands? Should I love them so well, understand -them so well? It is all clean, and good, and -wholesome.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She lay back, thinking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know that it looks to me reasonable and good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course it is. Not in every case, mind you. I’m -not boasting. I only happen to know myself. I am a -particular sort of man who has discovered that such a life -is <span class='it'>the</span> life, and that I am capable of living it. I would -not recommend it for the million. It is possible, because -you are you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She said, half in a whisper:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must tell her before I come!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I shall not come unless she understands, and -sympathises, which seems incredible.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton stopped the car and turned in his seat, -with one hand resting on the steering-wheel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If, by any chance, she persists in seeing ugly things, -thinking ugly thoughts, then I shall break the social ropes. -I don’t want to. But I shall do it, if society, in her -person, refuses to see things cleanly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His voice and presence dominated her. She knew in -her heart of hearts that he was in grim earnest, that -nothing would shake him, that he would go through to the -end. And the woman in her leapt to him with a new -exultation, and with a tenderness that rose to match his -strength.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dearest, I—I——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He caught her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There, there, I know! It shan’t be like that. I swear -it. I want no wounds, and ugliness, and clamour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Lynette?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, there is Lynette. Don’t doubt me. I am going -to do the rational and best thing. I shall succeed.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk142'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c45'></a>CHAPTER XLV</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>GERTRUDE CANTERTON CAUSES AN ANTI-CLIMAX</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Run along, old lady. Daddy’s going to write three -hundred and seventy-nine letters.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, poor daddy! And are you going to write to -Miss Eve?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give her my love, and tell her God’s been very nice. -I heard Him promise inside me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s very sensible of God.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette vanished, and Canterton looked across the -breakfast-table at his wife, who was submerged beneath -the usual flood of letters. She had not been listening—had -not heard what Lynette had said. A local anti-suffrage -campaign was the passion of the moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It struck Canterton suddenly, perhaps for the first time -in his life, that his wife was a happy woman, thoroughly -contented with her discontent. All this fussy altruism, this -tumult of affairs, gave her the opportunity of full self-expression. -Even her grievances were harmonious, chiming -in with her passion for restless activity. Her egoism was -utterly lacking in self-criticism. If a kettle can be imagined -as enjoying itself when it is boiling over, Gertrude Canterton’s -happiness can be understood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gertrude, I want to have a talk with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What, James?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to have a talk with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She dropped a type-written letter on to her plate, -and looked at him with her pale eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Something I want you to know. Shall we wait -and turn into the library?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m rushed to death this morning. I have to be at -Mrs. Brocklebank’s at ten, and——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right. I’ll talk while you finish your breakfast. -It won’t take long.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She prepared to listen to him with the patient air -of an over-worked official whose inward eye remains fixed -upon insistent accumulations of business. It did not strike -her that there was anything unusual about his manner, -or that his voice was the voice of a man who touched -the deeper notes of life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eve Carfax is coming back as my secretary and -art expert. She has given up her work in town.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am really very glad, James.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks. She got entangled in the militant campaign, -but the extravagances disgusted her, and she broke away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sensible young woman. She might help me down -here, especially as she has some intimate knowledge of the -methods of these fanatics.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is possible. But that is not quite all that I want -to tell you. In the first place, I built the new cottage -with the idea that she would come back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His wife’s face showed vague surprise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you? Don’t you think it was a little unnecessary? -After all——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are coming to the point. I have a very great -affection for Eve Carfax. She and I see things together -as two humans very rarely see them. We were made for -the same work. She understands the colour of life as I -understand it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gertrude Canterton wrinkled up her forehead as though -she were puzzled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is very nice for you, James. It ought to be -a help.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want you to understand the whole matter thoroughly. -I am telling you the truth, because it seems to me the -sane and honest thing to do. You and I are not exactly -comrades, are we? We just happen to be married. We -have our own interests, our own friends. As a man, I -have wanted someone who sympathised and understood. I -am not making this a personal question, for I know you -do not get much sympathy from me. But I have found -a comrade. That is all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His wife sat back in her chair, staring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you mean to say that you are in love with -this girl?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Exactly! I am in love with her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“James, how ridiculous!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Perhaps laughter was the last thing that he had -expected, but laugh she did with a thin merriment that -had no acid edge to it. It was the laughter of an egoist -who had failed utterly to grasp the significance of what -he had said. She was too sexless to be jealous, too -great an egoist to imagine that she was being slighted. It -appealed to her as a comedy, as something quite outside -herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How absurd! Why, you are over forty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just so. That makes it more practical. I wanted -you to realise how things stand, and to tell you that I am -capable of a higher sort of affection than most people -indulge in. You have nothing to fear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She wriggled her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t feel alarmed, James, in the least. I know -you would never do common, vulgar things. You always -were eccentric. I suppose this is like discovering a new -rose. It is really funny. I only ask you not to make -a fool of yourself in public.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her steadily and with a kind of compassion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear Gertrude, that is the very point I want -to impress upon you. I am grimly determined that no -one shall be made a fool of, least of all you. Treat this -as absolutely between ourselves.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She wriggled and poked her chin at him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you big, eccentric creature! Falling in love! -Somehow, it is so quaint, that it doesn’t make me jealous. -I suppose I have so many real and absorbing interests -that I am rather above such things. But I do hope you -won’t make yourself ridiculous.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can promise you that. We are to be good friends -and fellow-workers. Only I wanted you to understand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course I understand. I’m such a busy woman, -James, and my life is so full, that I really haven’t time -to be sentimental. I have heard that most middle-aged -men get fond of school-girls in a fatherly kind of -way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He crushed his serviette and threw it on the table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In a way, you are one of the most sensible women, -Gertrude, I have ever met.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Am I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Only you don’t realise it. It’s more temperament -than virtue.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m a woman of the world, James. And there are -so many important things to do that I haven’t time to -worry myself about harmless little romances. I don’t think -I mind in the least.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He pushed back his chair and rose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not think you would. Only we are all egoists, -more or less. One never quite knows how the ‘self’ in a -person will jump.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He crossed the room and paused at the window, -looking out. His thoughts were that this wife of his was a -most amazing fool, without sufficient sexual sense to appreciate -human nature. It was not serene wisdom that had -made her take the matter so calmly, but sheer, egregious -fatuity, the milk-and-water-mindedness that is incapable of -great virtues or great sins.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you thought of Lynette?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What has Lynette to do with it, James?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, nothing!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He gave her up. She was hopeless. And yet his -contempt made him feel sorry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her hand had gone out to her papers, and was stirring -them to crepitations that seemed to express the restless -satisfactions of her life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you over-work yourself, Gertrude?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think so. But sometimes I do feel——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ought to have a secretary, some capable young -woman who could sit and write letters for eight hours a -day. I can easily allow you another three hundred a year.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She flushed. He had touched the one vital part in her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, James, I could do so much more. And there is -so much to be done. My postage alone is quite an item!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course! Then it’s settled. I’m glad I thought -of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“James, it’s most generous of you. I feel quite -excited. There are all sorts of things I want to take up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went out into the garden, realising that he had -made her perfectly happy.</p> - -<hr class='tbk143'/> - -<div><h1><a id='c46'></a>CHAPTER XLVI</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>LYNETTE APPROVES</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve came down to breakfast in the panelled dining-room -at “Rock Cottage,” and stood at one of the open windows, -watching an Aberdeen puppy demolishing an old shoe in -the middle of the lawn. The grass had been mown the -day before, and the two big borders on the near side -of the yew hedge were full of colour, chiefly the blues -of delphiniums and the rose and white of giant stocks. -Nearer still were two rose beds planted with the choicest -hybrid teas, and mauve and yellow violas. The rock garden -beyond the yew hedge had lost some of its May gorgeousness, -but the soft tints of its rocks and the greys and -greens of the foliage were very restful to the eyes. Above -it hung the blue curtain of a rare June day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Billy, you bad boy, come here!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The puppy growled vigorously, and worried the shoe up -and down the lawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you baby! You have got to grow up into a -responsible dog, and look after my house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed, just because she was happy, and, kneeling -on the window-seat, began a flirtation with Master Billy, -who was showing off like any small boy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, I’m sure I’m more interesting than that shoe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A bright eye twinkled at her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose it is very wrong of me to let you gnaw -slippers. I am sure Mrs. Baxter is harder hearted. But -you are so young, little Billy, and too soon you will -be old.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door opened, and a large woman with a broad -and comfortable face sailed in with a tray.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good morning, miss!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good morning, Mrs. Baxter! Whose shoe has Billy -got?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m thinking it’s one of mine, miss.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The wretch!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I gave it him, miss. It’s only an old one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve’s eyes glimmered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Mrs. Baxter, how very immoral of you! I -thought Billy’s education would be safe with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There, miss, he’s only a puppy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But think of our responsibilities!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t give tuppence for a boy or a puppy as -had no mischief in him, miss!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But think of the whackings afterwards.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think it does no harm. I’ve no sympathy -with the mollycoddles. I do hold with a boy getting a -good tanning regular. If he deserves it, it’s all right. If -he’s too goody to deserve it, he ought to get it for not -deserving of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve laughed, and Mrs. Baxter put the tea-pot and -a dish of sardines on toast on the table. She was a local -product, and an excellent one at that, and being a widow, -had been glad of a home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve made you the China tea, miss. And the telephone -man, he wants to know when he can come and fix the -hinstrument.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Any time this morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you, miss.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The panelled room was full of warm, yellow light, -and Eve sat down at the gate-legged table with a sense -of organic and spiritual well being. There were roses on the -table, and her sensitive mouth smiled at them expressively. -In one corner stood her easel, an old mahogany bureau held -her painting kit, palettes, brushes, tubes, boards, canvases. -It was delightful to think that she could put on her sun-hat, -wander out into the great gardens, and express herself -in all the colours that she loved. Lynette’s glowing -head would come dancing to her in the sunlight. The -Wilderness was still a fairy world, where mortals dreamed -dreams.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were letters beside her plate. One was from -Canterton, who had gone north to plan a rich manufacturer’s -new garden. She had not seen him since that drive to -London, for he had been away when she had arrived at -“Rock Cottage” to settle the furniture and begin her new -life with Mrs. Baxter and the puppy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She read Canterton’s letter first.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='sc'>Carissima</span>,—I shall be back to-morrow, early, as I -stayed in town for a night. Perhaps I shall find you at -work. It would please me to discover you in the rosery. -I am going to place Guinevere among the saints, and -each year I shall keep St. Guinevere’s feast day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope everything pleases you at the cottage. I -purposely left the garden in an unprejudiced state. It may -amuse you to carry out your own ideas.—<span class='it'>A rivederci.</span>”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>She smiled. Yes, she would go and set up her easel -in the rosery, and be ready to enter with him upon their -spiritual marriage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Under a furniture-dealer’s catalogue lay a pamphlet in -a wrapper with the address typed. Eve slit the wrapper -and found that she held in her hand an anti-suffrage pamphlet, -written by Gertrude Canterton.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was a little surprised, not having heard as yet a -full account of that most quaint and original of interviews. -But she read the pamphlet while she ate her toast, and -there was a glimmer of light in her eyes that told of -amusement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A woman’s sphere is the home!” “A woman who is -busy with her children is busy according to Nature! -No sensible person can have any sympathy with those -restless and impertinent gadabouts who thrust themselves -into activities for which they are not suited. Sex forbids -certain things to women. The eternal feminine is a force -to be cherished!” “Woman is the sympathiser, the comforter. -She is the other beam of the balance. She should -strive to be opposite to man, not like him. A sweet -influence in the home, something that is dear and sacred!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve asked herself how Gertrude Canterton could write -like this. It was so extraordinarily lacking in self-knowledge, -and suggested the old tale of the preacher put up to preach, -the preacher who omitted to do the things he advocated, -because he was so busy telling other people what they -should do. How was it that Gertrude Canterton never -saw her real self? How did she contrive to live with -theories, and to forget Lynette?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet in reading the pamphlet, Eve carried Gertrude -Canterton’s contentions to their logical conclusion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Motherhood, and all that it means, is the natural -business of woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Therefore motherhood should be cherished, as it has -never yet been cherished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Therefore, every healthy woman should be permitted -to have a child.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And here Eve folded up the pamphlet abruptly, and -pushed it away across the table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After breakfast she went into the garden, played with -Billy for five minutes, and then wandered to and fro and -up and down the stone paths of the rock garden. There -were scores of rare plants, all labelled, but the labels -were turned so that the names were hidden. Eve had been -less than a week in the cottage, but from the very first -evening she had put herself to school, to learn the names -of all these rock plants. After three days’ work she had -been able to reverse the labels, and to go round tagging -long names to various diminutive clumps of foliage and -flowers, and only now and again had she to stretch out a -hand and look at a label.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All that was feminine and expressive in her opened -to the sun that morning. She went in about nine and -changed her frock, putting on a simple white dress with a low-cut -collar that showed her throat. Looking in her mirror -with the tender carefulness of a woman who is beloved, -it pleased her to think that she needed one fleck of -colour, a red rosebud over the heart. She touched her -dark hair with her fingers, and smiled mysteriously into -her own eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She knew that she was ambitious, that her pride in -her comrade challenged the pride in herself. His homage -should not be fooled. It was a splendid spur, this love -of his, and the glow at her heart warmed all that was -creative and compassionate in her. This very cottage -betrayed how his thoughts had worked for her. A big -cupboard recessed behind the oak panelling held several -hundred books, the books she needed in her work, and the -books that he knew would please her. There was a little -studio built out at the back of the cottage, but he had -left it bare, for her own self to do with it what she -pleased. It was this restraint, this remembering of her -individuality that delighted her. He had given her so much, -but not everything, because he had realised that it is a -rare pleasure to a working woman to spend her money in -accumulating the things that she desires.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On her way through the plantations she met Lavender, -and she and Lavender were good friends. The enthusiast -in him approved of Eve. She had eyes to see, and she -did not talk the woolly stuff that he associated with most -women. Her glimpses of beauty were not adjectival, but -sharp and clear-cut, proof positive that she saw the things -that she pretended to see.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He offered to carry her easel, and she accepted the -offer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you seen those Japanese irises in the water -garden, Miss Carfax?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I am going to paint them this afternoon. Whose -idea was it massing that golden alyssum and blue lithospermum -on the rocks behind them? It’s a touch of -genius.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lavender’s nose curved when he smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was one of my flashes. It looks good, doesn’t -it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One of the things that make you catch your breath.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He swung along with his hawk’s profile in the air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I fancy we’re going to do some big things in the -future. If I were a rich man and wanted the finest garden -in England, I’d give Mr. Canterton a free hand. And, -excuse me saying it, miss, but I’m glad you’ve joined us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He gave her a friendly glare from a dark and apprizing -eye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m keen, keen as blazes, and I wouldn’t work with -people who didn’t care! Mr. Canterton showed me those -pictures of yours. I should like to have them to look -at in the winter, when everything’s lying brown and dead. -If you want to know anything, Miss Carfax, at any time, -I’m at your service.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His manners were of the quaintest, but she understood -him, that he was above jealousy, and that he looked on -her as a fellow enthusiast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall bother you, Mr. Lavender, pretty often, I -expect. I want to know everything that can be known.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s the cry! But isn’t it a rum thing, Miss -Carfax, how nine people out of ten knock along as though -there were nothing fit to make them jump out of their -skins with curiosity. Why I was always like a terrier -after a rat. ‘What’s this?’ ‘What’s that?’ That’s my -leitmotiv. But most people don’t ask Nature any questions. -No wonder she despises them, the dullards, just as though -they hadn’t an eye to see that she’s a good-looking -woman!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He erected her easel for her in the rosery, tilted -his Panama hat, and marched off.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eve sought out Guinevere and sat herself down before -the prospective saint, only to find that she was in no mood -for painting. Her glance flitted from rose to rose, and -the music of their names ran like a poem through her -head. Moreover, the June air was full of their perfume, -a heavy, somnolent perfume that lures one into dreaming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly she found that he was standing in one of the -black arches cut in the yew hedge. She knew that the -blood went to her face, and she remembered telling herself -that she would have to overcome these too obvious -reactions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He came and stood beside her, looking down at her -with steady and eloquent eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have found out Guinevere?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. We are old friends now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not going to market this rose. She is to be -held sacred to Fernhill. How are you getting on at the -cottage?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes glimmered to his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you for everything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Billy pleases you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He has a sense of humour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Mrs. Baxter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Has what they call a motherly way with her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes wandered round the rosery with a grave, -musing look.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to talk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Talk to me here. I want to know how——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How she accepted it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She laughed. Thought it ridiculous. And I had been -ready for a possible tragedy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What an amusing world it is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He moved a little restlessly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to get away from that. Let’s walk through -the plantations. I can’t keep still to-day. I want to see -you everywhere, to realise you everywhere.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They wandered off together, walking a little apart. -All about them rose the young trees, cedars, cypresses, -junipers, yews, pines, glimmering in the June sunlight and -sending out faint, balsamic perfumes. Men were hoeing the -alleys between the maples and limes, their hoes flashing -when a beam of sunlight struck through the foliage of the -young trees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton stopped and spoke to the men. Also he spoke -to Eve as to a partner and a fellow-expert who understood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you think we make enough use of maples in -England?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t there a doubt about some of them colouring -well over here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They give us a very fair show. The spring tints -are almost as good as the autumn ones in some cases. -I want to see what you think of a new philadelphus -I have over here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They walked on, and when their eyes met again -hers smiled into his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you for that seriousness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was genuine enough. I am going to expect a very -great deal from you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m glad. I’ll rise to it. It will make me very -happy. Do you know I have learnt nearly all the names -of the plants in my rock garden!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you, already!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. And I am going to study every whim and trick -and habit. I am going to be thorough!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came to a grove of black American spruces that -were getting beyond the marketable age, having grown to -a height of fifteen or twenty feet. The narrow path was -in the shade, a little secret path that cut through the -black glooms like a river through a mountainous land.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Canterton was walking behind her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hold out your hand!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Without turning her head she held her hand out palm -upwards, and felt something small dropped into it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wear it—under your dress.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a little gold ring, the token of their spiritual -marriage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came out into the sunshine, and Eve’s eyes -were mistily bright. She had not spoken, but her lips -were quivering sensitively. She had slipped the ring on to -her finger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A king’s ransom for your thoughts!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned to him with an indescribable smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am Lynette’s fairy mother. Oh, how good!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And for me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have a formal invitation to deliver from Lynette. -She hailed me out of the window. We are to have tea -in the Wilderness, and Billy is asked.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Wilderness! That is where we forget to be -clever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came round to the heath garden where it overhung -the green spires of the larches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am going on with my book. Your name will be -added to it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I sign the plates?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, we’ll have you on the title-page, ‘Paintings by -Eve Carfax.’ And I shall ask you to go pilgrimaging -again, as you went to Latimer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She drew in her breath sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, Latimer! I shall be dreaming dreams. But I -want some of them to be real.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me them!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to help other women; help them over the rough -places.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can do it. I mean you to have a name and -a career.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to live only for self.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“First make ‘self’ a strong castle, then think of helping -the distressed. We are only just at the beginning of -things, you and I. We’ll have a rest home for tired -workers. I know of a fine site in my pine woods. And -you will become a woman of affairs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall never rush about and make speeches!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I don’t think you will do that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They turned towards the white gate, and heard the voice -of Lynette—Lynette who had been giving chase.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy! Miss Eve!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She came on them, running; glowing hair tossing in -the sunlight, red mouth a little breathless.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Miss Eve, the fairies have asked you to tea!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know. I have heard!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She caught Lynette, and kneeling, drew her into her -arms with a great spasm of tenderness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am going to be a fairy, one of your fairies, for -ever and ever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be the Queen Fairy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For ever and ever. I think God is very kind. I did -ask Him so hard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lynette had never been kissed as she was kissed at -that moment.</p> - -<hr class='tbk144'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Made and Printed in Great Britain by</p> -<p class='line'>The Greycaine Book Manufacturing Company Limited, Watford</p> -<p class='line'>50.428</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:1.2em;'><span class='it'>NOVELS BY</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.2em;'><span class='it'>WARWICK DEEPING</span></p> - -<table id='tab3' summary='' class='center'> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Kitty</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Doomsday</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Sorrell and Son</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Suvla John</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Three Rooms</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Secret Sanctuary</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Orchards</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Lantern Lane</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Second Youth</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Countess Glika</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Unrest</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Pride of Eve</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The King Behind the King</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The House of Spies</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Sincerity</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Fox Farm</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Bess of the Woods</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Red Saint</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Slanderers</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Return of the Petticoat</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>A Woman’s War</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Valour</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Bertrand of Brittany</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Uther and Igraine</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The House of Adventure</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Prophetic Marriage</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Apples of Gold</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Lame Englishman</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Marriage by Conquest</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Joan of the Tower</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Martin Valliant</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Rust of Rome</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The White Gate</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>The Seven Streams</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle2'><span class='sc'>Mad Barbara</span></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class='tbk145'/> - -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.1em;'><span class='bold'>Transcriber’s Notes:</span></p> - -<p class='noindent'>Punctuation has been corrected without note. -Other errors have been corrected as noted below:</p> - -<div class='lgl' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Page 113, ‘It’s’ time is so ==> <a href='#its'>‘Its’</a> time is so</p> -<p class='line'>Page 210, I canot help ==> I <a href='#can'>cannot</a> help</p> -<p class='line'>Page 284, was bcoming an ==> was <a href='#become'>becoming</a> an</p> -<p class='line'>Page 313, been turfed aand planted ==> been turfed <a href='#and'>and</a> planted</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pride of Eve, by Warwick Deeping - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRIDE OF EVE *** - -***** This file should be named 50176-h.htm or 50176-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - 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