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diff --git a/75969-0.txt b/75969-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c43651d --- /dev/null +++ b/75969-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12513 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75969 *** + + + + + + + + SCISSORS + + _A NOVEL OF YOUTH_ + + + BY + + CECIL ROBERTS + + + + NEW YORK + FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY + MCMXXIII + + + + + Copyright, 1923, by + FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY + + All Rights Reserved + + Published, March 29, 1923 + Second Printing, April 14, 1923 + Third Printing, June 29, 1923 + + + Printed in the United States of America + + + VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY + BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK + + + + + TO + H. C. BRODIE + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK I + +EAST + + +BOOK II + +WEST + + +BOOK III + +GROWTH + + +BOOK IV + +LIFE + + +BOOK V + +THE NEW WORLD + + +BOOK VI + +EAST AGAIN + + + + +BOOK I + +EAST + + + +SCISSORS + + +CHAPTER I + +A cold spray blew over the deck of the steamer as it left the calm +waters of the Bosphorus, making for the open and wind-swept expanse +of the Black Sea. Although it was springtime, and the promise of +summer had made Constantinople a city of warmth and cheerfulness, the +wind cut through the shivering crowd on the deck of the +Austrian-Lloyd boat. A north-easterly gale was blowing from the +Russian Steppes, and at intervals, through mists and clouds closing +and parting, the passengers caught glimpses of the Anatolian coast +with its long mountainous barricade rising from the surf-beaten strip +of shore. In lee of the deck-houses there was also a nurse, a +fresh-complexioned English girl, in charge of a boy of seven, +evidently the son of the Englishman and his wife. The Captain of the +steamer, an Austrian, regarded the strange party from time to time, +for it was rarely that Englishmen came to this part of the world, and +seldom were they accompanied by their women folk. Impelled by his +curiosity, he approached the tall stranger who had now risen and was +surveying his fellow passengers with amused interest. + +"You make to Trebizond, sir?" he asked, in broken English. + +"No, for Samsoon." + +"Ah--then you are of those who make the harbour there. It is a good +scheme. The English have much wisdom, but it is a terrible land," he +continued, and swept his hand expressively toward the grey coastland. +"Barbarians there--Turks, Armenians, Greeks, Syrians, Circassians, +Kurds, and some Americans, they go everywhere, like the English. Ah, +a terrible land." He shuddered and drew his fingers across his +throat, and then rolled his eyes as if the country transcended all +words at his command. + +"Do you know Asia Minor?" asked the stranger. "I am going to Amasia." + +"That is inland--a place of the wolves, the bandits--no, I would +never tread that soil. It is enough to sail the sea. The Black +Sea--ough!" And once more he shuddered. "The lady--is it that she +goes there, and the child?" + +"Yes, I have business in Amasia." + +"That is the illness of the English,--business, for this they come to +these lands. They are great fools, and brave fools, sir! The sea is +more safe. I hope soon never more to see this coast. I will live in +Vienna. Ah! one can live in Vienna, but there!--" He gave a short +laugh and then went about his work. + +But as Charles Dean leaned over the taffrail and watched the flowing +coastline dimly streaming into distance, it was not without a +stirring of deep interest. This was the classic land of great +adventure; they were near the coast of Phoenicia; behind that range +was Sidon, looking towards Palestine. This sea had seen Jason and +his Argonauts searching the coast of Colchis for the Golden Fleece. +All the ancient world of the Greeks was here, and the tides of +barbaric splendour had swept over that land; Greek, Roman, Byzantine +and Ottoman rulers had shaped its destiny. It was the great +battlefield of the world; the Greeks sailing for Troy, the Ten +Thousand, had all known that shore and the mountains still slept by +the thundering seas as in the days of Alexander and of Caesar. Peak +after peak of those mountains with their historic names arose and +looked inland, the mountains of Ionia, Ida and Casia, of Bithynia, +Pontus and Paphlogonia; violet and blue and amethyst, they stretched +like sleeping animals in the March sunlight, clothed with a forest +growth and fringed with pine trees. + +So all day long the little steamer went along its pathway of foam; +during those hours, Charles Dean and his wife were sustained by the +excitement of their entry into a new world. The last four years of +their lives had been spent in journeying from city to city, from +country to country. Amsterdam, Berlin and Bordeaux had held them for +a short time. Eastwards then Charles Dean received a call from the +trading company employing him, this time to Constantinople. That had +been the pleasantest of all their sojournings in foreign lands. The +city of mosques and minarets, with its beautiful gardens and golden +sea, had seemed like a dream from one of the Arabian Nights' +Entertainments. And now the gradual extension eastwards of business, +was carrying them to Amasia, the city unknown, dwelling inland behind +that great mountain barrier. It was a strange life, yet not without +its fascinations. Mary Dean insisted upon accompanying her husband. +She had the choice of remaining in England, but she swept it aside +unhesitatingly. Devoid of fear and devoted to her husband, she went +with him from land to land. With them also went their young son, +John Narcissus Dean. Narcissus! exclaimed everybody, hearing the +name. "Yes, Narcissus," answered handsome Charles Dean solemnly, +while the light of humour danced in his grey eyes; and then followed +the story of that honeymoon in Naples, when Mary, after seeing the +famous statue of "Narcissus listening to Echo," had pleaded with her +young husband, assisted by a Jew curio shopkeeper, for a copy she +coveted. "But I want a real Narcissus," whispered the young man, +pressing her hand quietly, while the Jew dusted the expensive bronzes +on his counter. + +"You shall have one--if I can have this," she answered roguishly. He +nearly kissed her in boyish ecstasy. "Done!" he cried--"and we'll +call him 'Narcissus.'" + +Charles Dean was not only a man who kept to his word, but also to his +joke. The announcement of the birth of John Narcissus at the +historic manor of "Fourways" filled old Sir Neville, the grandfather, +with delight and protest; a boy--excellent, Narcissus--preposterous! +But Charles was obstinate, Mary amused, and Sir Neville protested +anew. It was like Charles--independent, obstinate Charles, who had +always been so irrational. It might have been expected of a man who +had thrown up a diplomatic career to breed horses, which he could not +afford to breed, who had married penniless Mary Loughton, his +land-agent's pretty daughter. Charles had always been the fool in +contrast with Henry, his level-headed elder brother. Sir Neville did +not protest long,--he died one month after the coming of the +grandchild with the freak name; and although all babies seem to look +alike, many ladies, calling on the young mother, vowed the child was +a veritable Narcissus--so handsome, so bonnie, so-- + +The new baronet made one formal protest, but Henry knew well he could +do nothing with his odd-minded brother; still, as uncle, head of the +family, and sixth baronet, he felt he had some right to protest +against "Narcissus," if not for himself, then for his own boys, who +were cousins to this piece of Greek mythology. The young parents +only laughed, and John Narcissus, as if seeing the joke, gurgled +whenever he was shown the statue and told to grow up like it--not +altogether of course, for the statue proved to be cracked over the +left breast, where the dealer had carefully kept his thumb. + +Sir Henry, annoyed, kept aloof. When he heard that Charles had +ruined himself and lost "Fourways" in a mad scheme to sink a shaft, +over-persuaded by a gang of company promoters, he declared he was in +no way surprised, shrugged his shoulders, and waited to see what +would happen now. The sale of "Fourways," its contents and its +horses, must have been a hard blow for Charles, but he certainly gave +no sign when he called to say "Goodbye," before taking a position as +continental agent offered him by an old friend. + +"And--the boy?" asked Sir Henry, unable to make himself pronounce the +ridiculous name. + +"He is going with us." + +"What--all over the Continent!" cried the astounded baronet. "You +can't take a boy there--why not send him to school?" + +"He's too young--we want him--and I don't believe in preparatory +schools." + +"Crank!" exclaimed Sir Henry to her ladyship when his brother had +gone. + +Thus came John Narcissus Dean to be swinging his sturdy legs on a box +aboard an Austrian-Lloyd steamer bound for Samsoon. He was a fine +boy, well matured for his seven years, and already he had a manner of +command which made a slave of his devoted nurse Anna, a big +fresh-coloured country girl, one of the small group that had +gathered, seven years before, at the foot of the staircase at +"Fourways." Anna had never intended going to Asia Minor, which she +looked upon with the same horror as she did the South Sea Islands. +Her first excursion, to Amsterdam, had been taken with great daring. +Only love of the child she nursed and the mistress she served, could +have prevailed upon her to leave England, for as all the peasant +class, she had a loathing of foreigners. But from Amsterdam to +Berlin had not seemed so far, and then the change to Bordeaux was +like coming half-way home, so she remained with the family, and, as +the years went by, became more tightly bound by affection to her +young charge. For, however much she admired her mistress, she never +doubted for one moment that, without her, young John Narcissus could +not live. She had nursed him from a baby, was familiar with all his +complaints, and also his moods, which were peculiar and trying. + +It was Anna alone who could curb those terrible fits of passion which +so alarmed the fond parents. The child had a way of working himself +into a fanatical frenzy when pleased by anything. At first these +moods had been attributed to infant naughtiness and had been +punished, but without result. An eminent Berlin specialist, whom +they had consulted in distress, had said that the child's brain was +abnormally developed. He was to be humoured and closely watched. +With time and careful guarding he would outgrow those storms of +passion and ecstasy. So Anna immediately took the specialist's words +to heart. Without her the child would not live. When the change to +Constantinople was announced, her first intention was to give notice. +She did not object to France or Holland, but Turkey was a barbarian +country where Christians were crowded together and shot at with bows +and arrows, or cut to a thousand pieces with terrible knives like +those which grocers used for carving hams. But she could not think +of leaving the child; and, after all, she had been to Berlin, which +was almost half-way across Europe. She decided to go to +Constantinople, for the more she considered the matter the firmer +grew her conviction that her master and mistress were mad. + +When therefore, one morning, seated on the deck of the steamer as it +entered Samsoon roads, she was told by Mr. Dean that the white path, +climbing past the squalid little houses up the mountain side, winding +in and out like a ribbon, was the way to old Baghdad, the ancient +city of Haroun-al-Raschid and Sinbad the Sailor, she wondered +whatever her people, far away at home, would think when they heard +she was travelling in these fairy-tale lands. The only real things +in her amazing life were John and his father and mother. She looked +at John as he sat swinging his brown legs on the side of a box, and +wondered that such a morsel of life should drag her across the world +into strange and terrible lands. + +The passage ashore was made in a small boat, and the adventure was a +somewhat perilous one, for the frail craft was swept by the waters. +They were finally landed on the beach some distance away from the +town. Here a small crowd of customs officials and Turkish luggage +porters met them; then they were driven along the front of the town +in an _arabya_, a native conveyance with curtains for warding off the +sun, drawn by one horse in the control of a Turkish driver. + +And now the irresistible glamour which the East throws over the +hearts of all who venture into her domain, entranced the small party +as it was driven for some two miles along the edge of a sandy yellow +beach into the town of Samsoon. + +The buildings were low and inelegant; the streets narrow and filled +with that accumulation of smells and filth that are to be found in +all cities under Ottoman rule. But there was, despite these +disadvantages, a definite charm in the little town of forty thousand +souls. Samsoon is the one accessible port lying on the fringe of a +tableland containing the richest cornfields and tobacco country of +the world. The city itself was built at the great gate of the +mountains over which the roads wind through the few low passes along +that impregnable coast. It was the gate of that great historic +highway running through Turkey in Asia, along which all the traffic +had rolled for centuries. It was traffic that had scarcely altered +in any detail since the day of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid; the +sight which met the eyes of Charles Dean and his family was one that +had greeted the traveller for the last ten hundred years. + +As the _arabya_ climbed up the steep road leading to the centre of +the town, it breasted a stream of traffic coming down from the high +pass. Young John shouted with glee as the solemn camels trudged by, +their bells tinkling, their backs loaded with great bales of +merchandise. Wagons, bullock-carts, donkeys, packhorses, _arabyas_ +and men carrying great bundles, all seemed destined for one place, +the block of warehouses above the harbour. Here and there a tired +camel knelt for rest in the shade of a wayside tree. The drivers +were vivid figures in their white cloaks, dusty and travel stained, +while beside them moved, talked, and gesticulated such a mixture of +races and colours that the eye was dazzled with the indistinguishable +medley of blue, scarlet, gold, yellow and green gowns and cloaks, +nearly all richly embroidered; and above all, rose the noise of +innumerable bells in all keys, some ringing deep and slow, others +tinkling incessantly as the donkeys wound by, urged on by cries and +blows. + +Sounds, colours, smells, all mingled in this small town, along this +crowded highway, and Charles Dean was not slow to notice the +prosperity of the place. Every man and animal was burdened with +merchandise of some kind. Carts rolled by with shrieking axles, +loaded with wheat and barley. The camels were weighed down under +great bales of wool, tobacco, mohair and boxes of fruit and nuts. +Brown-legged boys from the hills drove their flocks down the main +street. They had started for the town at early dawn, and by eleven +were in Samsoon, a distance of twenty miles. They were chiefly +Turks, but occasionally one noticed the sharp features and clear skin +of a Syrian youth, or the dark lean profile of a Circassian, always +mounted and belted with daggers and pistols. The Greeks too were in +evidence, walking about with a superior air of possession, for they +and the Armenians were the chief citizens. They kept the shops and +ran the small hotels and cafés. + +That night, Dean and his family slept in Samsoon, but they were early +astir, and after a short call at the local office of his company, +Dean, with his wife, child and nurse, were seated in the curtained +_arabya_ with a Moslem driver urging his two cream ponies along the +high street. They were now travelling on the Baghdad road, and they +had for companions on the way an unending line of betasselled camels, +with great bells clanging as they lurched forwards, caravans winding +slowly up the mountain side, and many _arabyas_ loaded with human +beings or boxes, which once, to Dean's amazement, included American +sewing machines destined for Baghdad. There were also many +picturesque pedestrians or travellers on the humble donkey. For +miles the broad road climbed up the side of the great ravine. Early +in the afternoon they passed through Chakallu, the Place of Jackals, +a village in the deep valley, and twilight found them at their first +halting place. The town of Marsovan lay amid vineyards, orchards, +and walnut groves. Above the flat-topped houses towered the slender +minaret, rose tinted with the flush of waning light. Around the +town, beyond the open plains, stretched the dark mountain ranges +running north and south. As they descended into the town the driver +pointed with his whip to an enormous blue precipice which towered up +on the distant horizon some thirty miles away. + +"Amasia," he said briefly, and Charles Dean and his wife looked at +the distant horizon where lay the city in which they were destined to +abide. In Marsovan they were fortunate in finding an American +Medical Settlement where they were hospitably entertained for the +night. It was with regret that they set out next morning for Amasia. +It had been a great delight to live for a space among English +speaking persons, to exchange opinions with the cheerful nurses and +listen to the tales of the resident doctors. There was even an +English garden, a fresh, green, home-like space within the walled +compound, bordered with cherry trees and Easter lilies. Here at +least was a place of refuge when the solitude of Amasia became +unbearable, and as Mary Dean drove out of the courtyard and waved +farewell to the little group of women gathered to speed their guests, +she looked back with a feeling of comfort. She would be but a day's +journey from them, and those who know what the sound of one's native +speech means in an alien land will realise the comfort Mary Dean +derived from the workers of the Mission. + +The road to Amasia was a gradual crescendo of delight. The soft blue +mountain ranges towered up above the travellers as they approached +the entrance of the gorge. Here and there a column of smoke wound up +the mountainside from the fires of the charcoal burners, whose little +tents were pitched on the slopes. It was afternoon when they entered +the ravine along which the white road wound into the town. Above +them they saw the Baghdad road, on the opposite side of the ravine, +half obscured by the clouds of dust thrown up by the miscellaneous +traffic of carts, herds, camels and donkeys driving into the town. +Now the plain appeared, and the vision stretched before them was like +a new garden of Eden, a land flowing with colour, and scents from +luxurious gardens. The smooth, quickly flowing river tumbled over +its weirs; they could hear the singing of the water and the creaking +of water mills built along the banks. The great crags stretched +sheer to the sky, blazing with crimson shrubs in the bright, hot +sunlight, and the further they progressed, the richer, the more +varied grew the colours of this wonderful land. + +Presently with a sharp turn in the road, they emerged from the rocky +ravine into a tremendous gorge, with Amasia nestling between the +folds of the towering mountains. The town itself was a maze of +little white houses, dotted here and there in the small fertile +valley, and stretching along the two banks of the Yeshil Innak. A +dozen bridges, all of quaint design, some going back to Roman times, +spanned the bright river, and above the banks rose the minarets of +the mosques, khans, colleges and public buildings. The best houses +built along the river each possessed wonderful hanging gardens +blazing with luxuriant growths of semi-tropical plants and fruits, +but the wonder of Amasia lay, not in the gardens or buildings, but in +the immense cliffs that walled in the town from the outer world. +These precipices, scarcely a mile apart, rose up on each side of the +town to heights of three thousand feet on the western and more than a +thousand on the eastern side. They did not rise as mountains, but +seemed to be walls of rocks guarding the town. A castle stood boldly +silhouetted against the bronze sky, perched on a frowning crag +dominating the town. This was indeed an ancient dwelling place, an +old world town of wonder, where history seemed to sleep, for Amasia +was once the capital of Pontus, the home of the great Seljuks, the +birthplace of Mithridates the Great. On the face of the western +precipice there were still the five rock-hewn Tombs of the Kings. +When Strabo wrote of them in B.C. 65, he was telling an ancient +story, yet they remained untouched as when he had seen them. + +As Charles Dean and his family drove into the town it was early +afternoon, but already one half of the place was in shadow, the other +half blazed with sunlight streaming over the western precipice. They +were driven through the main street, a well observed party, giving as +much interest as they found. The company employing Dean had a house +for its agent on the outskirts of the town and to that they made +their way. Presently they turned off from the road and went down a +slope which led them through a beautiful garden into a small +courtyard. Here, their home came into view, and as the large, low, +white-faced building rose up among the trees, they all gave a cry of +delight. On one side ran a large pergola built of yellow stone and +black wood, leading to a garden which, even at this early time, +rioted in colour. Beyond the pergola, approached by broad stone +steps, lay the river, bordered with trees beneath which several boats +were moored. One end of the house, raised upon piles, overlooked the +river, with a wonderful view down the gorge towards the dazzling +minarets and towers of the town. + +They had scarcely noticed this enchanting vista when the _arabya_ +pulled up in front of a large porch, screened with a swinging rush +curtain. Before it, with a smile of welcome on their faces, stood +the bronzed Englishman and his wife, whom Dean had come to relieve. + +Greetings exchanged, they were led into a large, yellow room with +French windows opening on to a verandah. Passing through the windows +they were confronted once more with the view down the gorge. Tea was +laid, and the travellers were soon exchanging the news. The agent, +Mr. Price, and his wife had been in Amasia for twelve years. It was +six years since they had had their last holiday in England. Now they +were going there, never to leave it again. + +"And to think--in six weeks we shall walk down Piccadilly!" cried +Mrs. Price, the delight of anticipation in her voice. "It is just +the same I suppose--the same crowds, the same lights and hurry?" + +They laughed like children. It was so good to think they would be in +England again. It was a little cruel to show their joy in view of +the new exiles. But six years away from England had filled them with +irresistible longing. Their questions too were all of home. The +political crisis--was it over? The new Premier, how long did they +think he would be in power? They had a boy at Winchester--was the +tone there still considered good? He was sixteen--his mother fetched +a photograph from the drawer to show them. He was going into the +consular service. + +And then Mrs. Price turned to the little boy standing beside Mrs. +Dean. Until now, his whole attention had been divided between the +novelty of his surroundings and the piece of cake he held in his +hand. They hoped the summer heat would not be too intense for the +child. + +"The poor little chap will find it lonely here," said Price, "unless +he makes friends with the Turkish children." Privately he wondered +what insane motive had caused that couple to bring a child to this +extraordinary land. + +"John has always been with us," remarked Mrs. Dean, as if reading his +thoughts. "The child seems to be quite happy without playmates, +though of course, I devote most of my time to him." + +And then they passed to business matters; the two women discussed +domestic arrangements, the men their own trading affairs. Dinner was +served in the long yellow room that evening. It was only six o'clock +and yet it was quite dark. The light departed rapidly from the +gorge, for the moment the sun had dipped below the precipice, the +valley below was plunged into darkness. But as they sat at dinner, +and looked out westwards over the mountain barrier, they could still +see the daylight lingering in the glowing sky. A few stars glimmered +in the twilight, their brightness and the light blue sky contrasting +vividly with the black gorge and the dark running river. + +They were waited upon at dinner by two Armenian boys clad in white +jackets with brass buttons. + +"We have practically brought them up in our service," said Price. +"Their parents were killed in the last massacre." + +"Massacre!" Mrs. Dean dropped her hand on to the table and looked +across at the speaker--"When did the last occur?" + +"Four years ago--it was a bad one too. Some squabble in a bazaar +began it, I believe. The Armenians here are skilful in trade. They +make hard bargains, and the Turks never forget the fact. There was a +dispute in the bazaar; it set a light to smouldering passion, and the +town was ablaze in half an hour. These Moslems are curious people, +they kill deliberately, and though the massacre begins with a +frenzied outbreak, it goes on with a dispassionateness which is +terrible. The Armenians immediately flocked to the bazaar. It's in +a walled compound with strongly barred gates. I had been out in the +country that morning and knew that something was astir. The Turks +looked askance at me and were sulky whenever I spoke to them. On +returning my wife begged me to go down to the bazaar and see what I +could do, for it is wonderful the weight we English have here. The +Turks will listen to an Englishman, for they have never forgotten our +Consuls and their firm, honest treatment of them. + +"So I went. In front of the bazaar door, I found a horde of Moslems, +rifles and pistols in hand, waiting for their victims to emerge. The +outbreak had occurred at ten o'clock that morning. It was now four +in the afternoon and they showed no signs of dispersing. I knew they +would wait there five or six days if necessary. It was useless to +argue with them. Moslem blood had been shed. The Armenians would +have to bleed for it. Finally I succeeded in obtaining a concession. +They would allow the women and children to go to their homes. But +not the men, they said. So the door was opened and the terrified +women and children passed out between a sullen crowd of Moslems. +When the last appeared in the gateway there was a rush, and I saw a +helpless woman surrounded by a mob of angry faces. Pushing my way +towards her, I attempted to give her my protection but before I could +reach her, she fell forwards, stabbed in the back, and as she fell, I +saw that the Turks had not broken their word. Under the folds of the +garment covering her was the Armenian pastor who had tried to escape +in disguise. There was a murmur of intense satisfaction at this +slaying of the leader of the hated community. In all these affairs, +the pastor is the first to go; they seek him out as the figurehead, +and these poor leaders of a timid flock know that; you can see +perpetual melancholy in their faces, hear it in their voices. But +they are brave men, and there is never any lack of pastors. These +two boys who wait on us are the sons of that unfortunate man." + +There was a long silence; then, fearing he had alarmed his guests, +Price added in a cheerful voice-- + +"Still, they never touch us you know. European blood is sacred to +them, and I have always found the Turks very docile, but if you are +wise, you will keep in when the drums begin to drone." + +"The drums?" asked Dean, eager for information, although he could see +his wife was being unnerved. + +"Harry," interposed Mrs. Price, "don't you think this is very trying +for Mrs. Dean--she has only--" + +"Oh! please go on!" cried Mrs. Dean, "--there's no safety in +ignorance." + +"Well--you can generally surmise that trouble is brewing when you +hear the drums begin to drone. They start at sunset and grow louder +towards midnight. It is an awful sound, weird, oriental. You will +probably hear a few of them to-night, there's always a strolling +drummer entertaining at one of the khans. When trouble is brewing +however, there's not one drum, but hundreds. They sound everywhere. +You hear them in the streets, down the gorge, up the mountain-side. +They sound as if Timur the Terrible was gathering his army again." +He broke off with a laugh, "Really, Dean, I shall give you all the +creeps--you are quite safe being English and life is very pleasant +here, but lonely at times. You will find even Constantinople a +change--have you lived there?" + +"We have been there two months," answered Dean. + +"Two months!--then you will know Therapia--lovely Therapia! We took +a bungalow there for two months each year. I have a cousin at the +Embassy. We had a delightful time--nights on the Bosphorus, gay +little parties embarking in _caiques_, sunset beyond Therapia, the +house parties at Buyukdereh. Oh, it was enjoyable, but to think +now--Piccadilly, Oxford Circus, Henley week--days in Surrey!--there's +no place like England." + +With a boyish gesture of delight, he pinched his wife's arm who +laughed gaily in response. + +"We are now going to leave you to talk business," she said, rising. +"I am sure Mrs. Dean is tired and wants to go to bed, and we two will +have a busy day tomorrow." And with that the two women said +good-night. When they were gone, Dean and Price sat smoking for a +time. + +"Come on to the verandah," said Price, leading the way. "The moon +will be up soon, and moonrise here is one of the wonders of Asia." + +They seated themselves in low wicker chairs. It was so dark that it +was impossible to distinguish anything clearly. There was a sound of +running water, and a muffled roar came back on the wind from the +place where the river leapt its weirs down in the gorge. Price's +cigarette glowed red in the darkness with each draw he took. The air +was perfumed and warm. There was something in the atmosphere which +made the senses very acute. It seemed as if one was waiting for +something to happen--the singing of the stream, the wandering breeze, +the perfume and the impenetrable darkness were all a prelude to the +first act of an unknown drama. The silence grew so oppressive that +Dean felt he would have to speak or cry out. He was about to force a +remark to his lips when his host suddenly sat erect, intently +listening, his face turned towards the valley. + +"Listen!" he said after a pause. "Can you hear anything?" + +Even as he spoke, the other man heard a subdued sound. It was borne +on a wind which died down, but gradually its note was more insistent, +deepening in tone until it seemed to make the darkness tremble. As +Dean listened, he experienced a strange thrill creeping over him. +There was something so weird, so redolent of the strange land in that +music as it was borne along the gorge and gave expression to the +mystery of the night. Such a sound it was as had been heard many +centuries ago when the invading Turkish hordes had swept over the +land. Those drums had heralded the approach of Timur the Terrible on +his devastating march across Asia, leaving a track of blood behind, +his name sending terror in advance of his ruthless army. The drum +now throbbing down the gorge had the same barbaric note, the same +sinister significance, and as Charles Dean listened he knew that this +city of old Asia had never changed from the days when the Seljuk +sultans ruled or Haroun-al-Raschid kept his court in Baghdad. + +And then, as if to add to the wonder of the night, the two men became +aware of a slow change in the scene before them. The objects in the +garden grew into vision slowly. Along the gorge they could see the +houses and under them a chill light on the black swirling river. The +dim minarets changed from blue sentinels of the darkness to long +white fingers pointing skywards. And above the black edge of the +precipice it seemed no longer dark, for even as they looked and +wondered, the moon came up over the edge, round and full, with its +white face peering over the great wall shutting in the gorge. The +scene before them was now one of indescribable beauty. The little +white flat houses, the mosques and minarets and gardens, all +glimmered brightly in the serene light flooding the gorge. As the +river ran between the banks, leaping the weirs and rocky +obstructions, it flashed silvery under the rays of the moon, and as +if to keep measure with this revelation, the drum-beats grew louder +and louder, throbbing in the perfumed air until the sound seemed to +be closing in from all sides. + +How long they sat spellbound before this magic of the East they knew +not, but their inactivity was broken at last by the noise of a +footfall on the gravel below the verandah. Instantly Price was on +his feet, peering over towards the garden. His companion too had +heard the noise, and jumped up just in time to see a white figure +turn in the path and pass from sight under the darkness of the cherry +trees. + +Both men looked at one another for the space of a second. + +"I'm sure there's some one moving in the garden," said Dean. + +"No one has any right in here." + +They listened. The drum droned louder than before and as the sound +died with the veering of the wind, they heard a footfall again, less +distinct. The trespasser was going in the direction of the drum. + +Without hesitation, Price vaulted lightly from the verandah to the +path below, his companion following. Quickly they traversed the +downward slope until they reached a grove of cherry trees into which +Price plunged. Behind him, Dean, following silently, heard his guide +give a short cry; peering into the shadow, he saw a small figure some +ten yards ahead, garbed from head to foot in a loose white gown, +which fluttered ghostlike in the moonlight. Price, running now, had +caught the white form; when Dean came up, he turned to him with a +nervous laugh. As the latter stopped, he gave a short cry of +surprise, wondering what trick the enchantment of the night was +playing upon his senses, for there, firmly held by Price, was his own +boy, barefooted, in his white nightgown, looking up with startled +eyes. + +"John! what are you doing here?" The father stooped and lifted up +his boy. The child's face wore a half puzzled expression as if he +had suddenly been awakened from sleep and was dazzled by the light. +For a moment or so he gave no answer, but clutched the lapels of his +father's coat, his small frame shaking with fright. + +"Daddy, I had to come! Something called me, something--" and as if +unable or afraid to give words to the fear in his heart, he sobbed +violently in his father's arms. It was in vain that Dean tried to +sooth the child; he shook from head to foot and clutched at his +father's hand in wild terror. They carried the sobbing child +indoors, and when they had gained the lamplit drawing-room, calmness +had once more come over the child. He looked about him and blinked +in the brilliant light like one waking from a dream. + +Price pinched the boy's ear playfully-- + +"A nightmare, old son, eh?--you've been having too much cake!" + +"How did you get out of bed?" asked the father, looking anxiously at +the boy. + +"I don't know, Daddy--I can't remember until you found me." It was +obvious that the child was speaking the truth. + +"Well, we can't have you sleep-walking like this, John. You'll +frighten your mother to death." + +"Take the boy up to his room, Dean," said Price. "What a good thing +it hasn't roused Mrs. Dean! Come along, I'll show you the way, he's +sleeping next to your room." + +They took the boy upstairs and placed him in his bed. The child was +quite calm now and his head sank on the pillow as if heavy with +sleep. For a minute Dean waited in the room and then stooped over +the bed. + +"Will you be all right now, John?" But there was no answer for John +was already fast asleep again, his head buried in the pillow. The +two men tip-toed silently out of the room. When they had gained the +verandah Price mixed himself a whiskey and soda. + +"Drink?" he asked, with an ill-concealed attempt to be at his ease. + +"No thanks." + +There was a long silence; the two men were thinking. Price knocked +the ash off his cigarette and watched its end until the glow died +down. + +"Is John subject to those--er--to sleep-walking?" he asked at length, +making his enquiry as casual as possible. + +"No, he's not. I have never known him to do this before." + +"H'm, perhaps the journey's upset him--the excitement; children are +easy victims of nightmare." + +"Yes--do you think it was nightmare?" asked Dean. His tone plainly +conveyed the belief that he thought otherwise. + +"Of course!--why not?--the child has no reason for going down the +garden." + +"Where does the path lead?" + +"To the river--there's a footway into the town--it cuts off the bend +in the road." + +"To the town?--towards the drum?" + +Price started. Dean had noticed then! He gave a short laugh, and +got up and stretched his arms. + +"Perhaps you'd like to turn in now?" he asked, and then as if +changing his mind, he sat down suddenly. + +"Look here, Dean," he said earnestly, "I'll be quite frank--it is +perhaps better. You've guessed what drew the boy out of his bed?" + +"The drum?" + +"Precisely--and you're right, I think, though we may be making a +silly mistake. I would never have believed it myself, but it is +certainly curious." + +"What?--the sleep-walking?" asked Dean. "Because I'll say plainly +that I'm sure the boy wasn't sleep-walking, he was wide awake." + +"You noticed it?" + +"Yes, I did--but I can't account for his expression." + +"His half-dazed look?" + +"Yes--it was uncanny. I've never seen John look like that before. +He seemed almost--" Dean paused as if reluctant to use the word upon +his tongue. + +"Hypnotised?" suggested Price. The other nodded, and they both +relapsed into silence. + +"I don't want to alarm you," said Price quietly, after a long pause, +"but this thing makes me half inclined to believe what I would never +credit. Now, remember what I am going to tell you is only an old +legend. There's hundreds of silly tales you will be told by the +natives here, if you encourage them to talk. They spend nights +embellishing these yarns in the khans until they believe in their own +imaginations. But it is as well you should know, in case to-night's +event may be repeated. You noticed the boy went in the direction of +the drum? Well, it's said that there are certain souls which can be +allured by the _saz_--that's the name of the drum. They cannot +always be allured, only when the moon is full can the sound attract +the souls of its victims, but when that condition is fulfilled, there +is no power, save intervention by a person not under the influence, +which can break the spell--it's a silly tale of course, these old +khan entertainers always make the flesh creep." + +"But the victims--you say they are allured--where?" + +"I don't know, these old legend-spinners never say." + +"But surely there is some point in this hypnotic influence--why are +they drawn by the sound?" + +"It's a mystery--as I've said, there's no sense in the whole story. +What an ass I am to tell you all this. It's late, hadn't we better +turn in?" + +The change in the conversation was clumsy, and it did not deceive +Dean. + +"You're keeping something back, Price--what is it?" + +Price looked steadily at his interrogator. It was evident that Dean +would go to the bottom of the subject. + +"Oh,--er, there's not much else to be told, only a silly sort of +nightmare ending, that's all." + +"What kind of ending--death?" + +"Yes." + +"Violent--dreadful?" + +"Oh no, in fact, I should think rather sudden, or peaceful, that's +how it seemed to me." + +"Then you've seen it? Tell me all about it, Price." + +"Really, Dean, you know this sort of thing is very stupid--a +coincidence, that's all, and I may have been mistaken." + +"Perhaps so, but I want to hear." + +"It happened three years ago, just such a night as this--full moon, +those damned drums droning away--when my _kavass_--the fellow who +takes me about the villages here, came running in. He was in a +fearful state, so excited he could hardly speak. Had I seen Hafiz? +he asked,--that was his son. I told him I hadn't. He said he had +seen him crossing the bottom garden, going towards the river path." + +"Towards the drums?" + +"Yes, we had heard them at dinner. They were very loud that night. +I told the _kavass_ he was mistaken. Hafiz couldn't have gone that +way, it was full moon and we should have seen him, but the old fellow +wouldn't be denied. It was the drum of Timur, he said--no one could +resist it who heard. I didn't know the story then, but the old +father was so distressed that I offered to go with him along the +path. So taking my revolver, we set out. We had gone about a mile +along the river's edge when we came to an old khan. The drum was +being beaten inside, so we thought, but my _kavass_ said it was +impossible because the khan was roofless and no one lived in it. +Anyhow, we could hear the _saz_ droning away. So we pushed open the +creaking old gateway. + +"Inside the courtyard there was a pool, and a fountain that never +flowed. The moon shone down on the pool which was so still that it +reflected the stars. Round the old khan buildings ran the galleries, +in rectangular form. The moon threw a deep blue shadow half across +the courtyard, and as we stood there, peering into the deserted +place, it seemed as if we had entered into a strange world where only +the shadows moved. We stood there, I should think, for quite a +minute, transfixed by the silent beauty of the place, when the old +man suddenly gave a cry. I followed his gaze and saw what he had +seen. There, on the other side of the fountain, lay the naked body +of a youth. At first I thought it was a marble statue, it was so +white and perfect in form, but the old man ran forward and as I came +up to him, I saw the head of the youth was covered with a mass of +loose, black curls. The poor old father flung himself on his knees +and gathered up the body in his arms, sobbing as he did so. + +"I never saw such a youth as Hafiz. He was quite naked and the +whiteness of his flesh was intensified by the moonlight bathing his +body, and the head of black hair. He had fallen sideways, with one +hand resting on his thigh, the other clenched and stretched out +towards the basin. There was no sign of any struggle. The face was +composed, just as if he had fallen asleep, and there was nothing on +the ground or anywhere about to suggest violence, but his clothes +were all missing and to me this was conclusive proof that robbery had +been the motive of the crime; no doubt he'd been strangled. The poor +old father who had been speechless with grief for some time, shook +his head when I spoke of strangulation. 'No, effendi,' he said +quietly, with a touch of fatalism in his voice, 'It is the drum of +Timur--look!' His finger pointed to the left breast of the youth, +and I saw what had escaped me in the first hurried examination. Just +over the heart there was a short, red line, not the incision left by +a dagger, but such as a penknife might make. + +"There was hardly any blood, a little stream had trickled down the +breast and dried. I told the old fellow that his son had been shot, +but he only repeated, 'The drum of Timur,' and that was all he could +be got to say. The _zaptiehs_ searched the khan the next day. They +were stupid fellows, and shared the old man's conviction. The fact +that the unfortunate youth's clothes were never found proved +conclusively, in my mind, that robbery had been the motive. You +mustn't believe a tenth of all you hear out here. Anyhow, Dean, when +the moon's full, watch your boy if you really think there's anything +in the tale. I don't. Why should John be attracted by the drum of +Timur, even if there were such a thing?--he's English, born in +England! This is a native spell and only works upon those of Moslem +blood." + +The two men talked on for a short time and Price watched his +companion closely; he was greatly relieved when he saw, on retiring, +that Dean had dismissed his strange apprehension. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +On the verandah, under the shade thrown by the blossoming almond +tree, sat a boy who at first sight would seem to be some fourteen +years of age. It was a hot day without the suspicion of a breeze, +and he stretched himself out in a wicker chair while he fanned +himself with a broad, soft-brimmed white hat. He was dressed, +although it was only early spring, as boys in England dress in the +hottest days of summer, that is when they are holidaying and have +escaped the vigilance of their mothers. A white cricket shirt, open +at the neck, showed a chest and throat tanned to a rich brown by the +suns of Asia Minor. His face had the deep healthy tone of one who +had exposed himself to the fiercest heat of the sun, but the tan +could not hide the pink and red which mantled the clear skin of the +boy's face. His head was covered with a disordered mass of brown +hair that had a tendency to curl. The impression of all who saw +young John Dean, was that of a remarkably handsome English boy. The +mouth was finely shaped, the nose straight, with a curious little +curve in the nostrils which gave at times an expression of disdain to +the face. But the eyes were the arresting feature, they looked out +from beneath long lashes, with a light in them so luminous that they +appeared to be always on the verge of laughter. John was now twelve +years of age, and not thirteen or fourteen as his robust frame +suggested. Dressed in a pair of short white knickers, with a long +length of brown leg showing, his sleeves rolled up at the elbows, he +gave promise of a wonderful manhood. For Charles Dean's whim was +daily growing true. This straight tall boy had a classic mould that +followed the grace of the "Narcissus" which had given him his name. +And to this distinction was added a manner that attracted all. The +boy's voice was clear, his laughter infectious; he had an air of +command which probably was half innate and partly due to being a +European among foreigners. For he ruled his playmates imperiously. +The _arabya_ drivers who gave him many a lift along the roads, the +_zaptiehs_ whose rifles he handled, and whose stories he listened to +breathlessly, down to the Turkish and Armenian boys of his own age, +recognised without question his imperious will. He was "John +effendi" in the eyes of all the inhabitants of Amasia, not only +because he was the son of the Englishman, but also by reason of that +will to rule. + +But there was one follower of John effendi who not only respected and +obeyed, but worshipped silently. It was Ali, the son of the +watermill owner. Ali was a Turk and proud of his blood. He was a +year older than John, tall, and in a different way quite as notable +as his friend. He had fair wavy hair, always kept close-cropped. +His whole life had been spent playing on the banks of the Yeshil +Irmak, or the Iris as it was popularly called, and his young body was +lithe and brown as a panther's. When he moved it was with the sleek +grace of that animal. The muscles slid under their satiny sheaths +with a suggestion of cryptic strength. He could run like a hare and +swim like an otter, accomplishments which quickly endeared him to +John who was his rival in all these things. Ali, by his father's +position,--for he was a well-to-do, judged by oriental +standard--though more because of his own spirit and strength, was a +boy who reigned among his companions. Only to one was he known to +give way, to John, whom he followed with an intense, doglike devotion. + +It was of Ali that John was thinking this morning as he sat on the +verandah. Where was Ali now? Probably he had gone to the mosque +with his father, for it was nearing noon. He wondered whether Ali +would come round to the house. They had planned a great adventure +for that day. They were to meet by the market drinking-fountain at +eleven o'clock and then to climb the great rock on whose summit stood +the castle. Ali's uncle, the warden, was going to show them all the +dungeons and court rooms. It would have been a wonderful treat, and +now he had been forbidden to leave the gardens because of a silly +suspicion of his father's. Last night they had heard the drums +droning even louder than usual. The sound grew to such a volume that +the whole gorge had reverberated with it, and it had awakened him +although he always slept soundly. At breakfast his father had looked +worried, and it was plain to see from Anna's nervousness that +something was upsetting them. His father had been in the garden soon +after rising, and he heard him tell Anna that Achmed was like a bear +with a sore head. Then Anna did a mean thing. She said, "Do you +think that John should go up to the Castle, sir," and his father +immediately said "No." It was in vain that he pleaded that Ali +expected him. Ali would have to go alone, he was forbidden to leave +the garden. + +So John sat on the chair idly swinging one leg over the arm while he +fanned himself. Anna was becoming a nuisance. She had increased her +authority ever since his dear mother had died two years ago now. The +thought of his mother led his mind back to the almond tree he and his +father had planted on the grave in the little cemetery of the +American Mission at Marsovan. He remembered that day clearly, +because he could never forget seeing his father as he bent down, +stamping the soil about the roots of the sapling. His father's +shoulders seemed to be twitching curiously and when John looked at +his face, he saw he was crying. It was strange to see his father +cry, he did not know men could do that, and it hurt him so much, that +he had grasped his strong hand and cried "Don't Daddy!" which did not +improve matters, for his father had gathered him up in his arms and +pressed him to him until he could scarcely breathe. And then John +too cried. He would never forget that day. + +If only his mother were living now, thought John; she would not let +Anna be so strict with him, although he knew that his nurse was like +a second mother. + +As he sat there with nothing to do on this lovely morning, the spirit +of rebellion was strong within him. Restless, he got up and ran down +the verandah steps towards the courtyard. In front of the stable +door he paused, as if thinking, then swung back the door and entered. +It was but the work of a minute to saddle his pony. There was just +time in which to reach the fountain and tell Ali that he could not go +and then be back for lunch with his father. + +A few minutes later John was cantering down the highway into Amasia. +He passed the heavily laden camels trudging along with their +deep-sounding camel bells slowly tolling, a cloud of dust rising +about their pounding feet. Now and then a Turk would greet the boy +with a profound salaam, but he could not help observing that the +greetings were not so cordial or numerous this morning. A few of the +Turks he passed, who knew him well by sight, turned their faces away +as he went by, and John recalled his father's words when he had come +in from the garden before breakfast. Had they all got sore heads, he +wondered. + +In the market place he passed little groups that stood talking around +their merchandise spread out on the ground, but he had no time this +morning for sauntering in and out of the motley gathering. When he +reached the fountain, it was exactly eleven o'clock but there was no +sign of Ali. So dismounting, John slung the rein over his arm and +waited. A number of dusty _arabyas_ rattled by, evidently coming in +from Marsovan. Two Circassians, their coloured waist-bands gleaming +with dagger handles, and long breeched revolvers, rode up to the +fountain to water their horses, two superb animals which these wild +men rode as if born in the saddle. With characteristic insolence +they pushed away a Turk who was watering his mule, and the angry old +fellow went off waving his arms and leaving a stream of abuse behind +him. + +It was very hot and the increasing heat made John realise that it +must be getting near noon. There was still no sign of Ali, but John +dared not wait any longer, for he knew the penalty he would have to +pay if his escapade were discovered. So mounting his pony, he gave +it a flick with his whip and started off at a sharp canter on the way +home. But he had not gone far before he became aware of a great +commotion in front of him where the street narrowed just at the +entrance to the bazaar. A crowd of loose-cloaked Turks were seething +towards the door, and a frantic yelling broke on the boy's ears as he +approached. Impelled by curiosity he urged his pony forward and soon +reached the fringe of the mob. As he did so a Turk caught hold of +his rein and forced the pony back on its haunches. The frightened +animal immediately wheeled and kicked out, scattering the dense crowd +left and right, and when the boy had managed to rein in his +frightened mount, he saw that he was hemmed in by the crowd, with his +back to the wall. + +Even then he was not aware of the danger in which he stood, but at +his side in a heap, huddled against the wall, was a figure. Hastily +looking down John saw it was a man. One glance told him that the +Armenian was dead, and as he stared at the corpse, with its +bloodstained tunic, the yelling broke loose again, and the crowd +surged up towards him. From the bazaar door another Armenian came +out. Before the man saw his peril, his retreat was cut off, and he +flung himself behind the pony and the boy. Mounted on his saddle, +John's head was just above those of the crowd, and as he looked down +upon the scowling angry mob, his heart thumped in his chest. + +With set face, the boy backed his pony so as to cover the terrified +Armenian. But the crowd would not be baulked of its prey, it was +determined to set blood flowing. A bullet sang through the air and +hit the wall with a sharp thud, and a fat dirty Turk, drawing a +wicked-looking knife from his belt, tried to get between the Armenian +and his protector. Instantly John raised his hand, the lash of his +whip whistled as it cut through the air, and the man backed with a +howl of rage and pain. John raised his whip again, his eyes blazing +in his tense face. + +"If any of you want a thrashing, come and get it!" he cried, his +young voice sounding shrilly above the low muttering of the crowd. +They stared at this young English boy, with his firm set face and +defiant head. Perhaps his courage stirred them, or it may have been +the fury of this child bare-throated and slim, who looked at them +unflinchingly. The crowd backed a little and as it did so John saw +in its midst, Mehmet, the brother of their gardener Achmed. + +"Mehmet!" he cried, "if anything happens to this man I shall give +information to the _Zaptiehs_ about you." + +The threat had its effect, the English never invoked the authorities +in vain. Seeing his opportunity, the boy turned his pony sideways. + +"Keep between me and the wall!" he shouted to the terrified Armenian, +as he urged the animal forwards. Out-man[oe]uvred, the mob made no +attempt to follow, and the Armenian and his protector went their way +down the street. When they were at a safe distance and the clamour +had died away, the boy pulled up his pony to give the man time to get +breath. + +"Oh, master!" cried the man, "my poor brother!" John looked down at +the Armenian. He was a man of about fifty, thin, with black +straggling hair and pinched cheeks. + +"Was that your brother?" asked John. + +The man nodded his head, choked with tears. + +"How did it begin?" + +"A boy stole a ring from our stall. He fled into the street and my +poor brother ran after him and was beating him when the father came +up--Usef the butcher." + +The Armenian shook from head to foot, and John waited while he +gathered his breath, then they moved on again. After going for about +half a mile, the Armenian stopped and clasped the boy's hand. + +"Young master, God bless you for this!" he cried, kissing the boy's +hand. "I am safe here, my home is near by. I shall never forget +you, young master," and kissing this time the boy's knee, he turned +and disappeared down a narrow courtway. + +On the outskirts of Amasia, John realised how near he had been to +disaster. His courage was sinking rapidly, no longer sustained by +the excitement. Whipping up his pony he cantered up the home drive +and rode with a clatter into the courtyard, and as he did so, he saw +that his thoughtlessness had betrayed him, for his father, hearing +the sound, came out on to the verandah. + +John stabled the pony, and then entered through the dining room on to +the verandah where his father sat waiting. + +"Well?" was his greeting. + +John hung his head a little; he was still quivering with the +excitement of the last half hour, but he tensed his muscles and threw +his head up with a determined look. Bean watching his son closely, +saw the lithe young body stiffen, and he mistook the effort of +self-control for one of defiance. + +"You know I forbade you to go out: Have you anything to say?" + +"No, father." + +"Very well,--fetch the switch." + + + +II + +Three days later, John sat with his father having dinner on the +verandah, for it was a warm evening and the stars glimmered in a +cloudless sky. Over the western precipice the daylight had not quite +disappeared, there was a strip of red which higher up changed to a +light green and gradually merged into the dark blue of the night. +They could hear the Iris singing along its bed, a deep full-toned +note now, for the melting of the mountain snows was increasing its +volume. John did not usually sit up to dinner, but to-night he was +enjoying a special privilege which his father gave him occasionally. +After dinner he would sit on his father's knee while he was read to +from an exciting story book--a custom of his mother's which had been +faithfully retained. So when the dinner had been served and the +servants had cleared the table and shut the windows behind them, John +fetched the book for his father to read. As he handed it to him, +Dean took the child's hand in his own, holding it while the boy stood +between his knees. + +"John, why didn't you tell me what happened when you disobeyed me the +other morning?" + +John looked into his father's face; some one had told him then. + +"I didn't think that was any excuse, Daddy," he said simply. + +As he spoke, Dean looked at the boy. What an astounding sense of +logic the child had! Of course it was no excuse, he had disobeyed +and had accepted his punishment; but it was amazing that no advantage +had been taken of the incident at the bazaar. For a minute there was +silence, in which neither spoke, and Dean's hand closed tightly over +his son's. This boy was made of good stuff. A great pride in him +leapt up in Dean's heart. + +"John," he said gravely, "I am very proud of you. You were a young +Englishman that morning. You made no excuses--which I loathe, and +you didn't flinch in a tight corner, which makes me proud of you," +and with that said, he lifted the boy up on to his knees and began +reading. + +John's taste for fiction had undergone a change. Once he had loved +tiger stories, and hunting yarns in India; now he wanted school +stories. It fascinated him to know how English boys lived in that +far country where he had been born. Their escapades at school, their +tricks on masters, their friendships, sports, quarrels, the fagging +and the lordly prefects, all filled him with wonder and delight. As +he listened to these tales, a great desire grew up within him. He +longed to be with them, to go to an English school. It would be St. +Martin's or St. David's--for all big schools began with St. something +he discovered. He would be among English boys there and perhaps +share a study with one of them. They would be great friends and then +they would quarrel and "cut" one another. He didn't like the idea of +the quarrel, but it was necessary, otherwise he couldn't get hurt on +the football field, scoring the goal that won the match for the +school. + +Yes, he would have to quarrel, because how otherwise could his friend +help him to limp back to his study, and then shake hands, and sit +down to make toast, as in the days before they had quarrelled? John +also wondered what the school chapel would be like. He had never +been in a chapel. He imagined there would be hundreds of boys bowing +their heads, and the stern-faced headmaster would speak in a deep +voice (that was really kind although it would seem terrible), and at +his side there would be a big boy crying, a prefect--for was not this +his last Sunday? There would also be the pealing organ--he wondered +how an organ would sound--and the light would stream down through the +high-coloured windows and rest on the heads of the boys while the +lines of the last hymn died away. For the light always streamed +through highly coloured windows in school chapels--that was what +helped the prefect to cry. It would be--- + +"John, you are not listening--are you sleepy?" said his father. + +"No, Daddy--I was only wondering--" + +"What?" + +"If only I could go to a big school like that, and have friends and--" + +"Well, you will one day." + +"Oh! In England?" asked John, his eyes dancing with excitement. + +"Yes--when you are a little older." + +"O-o-oh!" cried John, flinging his brown arms round Dean's neck, and +wriggling his body until his face touched his father's. "And shall I +have a study, and a big box with my name on it--'J. N. Dean' in great +black letters?" + +"Yes, Anna will pack it full with your clothes." + +"Oh, how glorious--and you will come too?" + +Dean laughed, and pinched his son's leg. + +"No, old son--they won't have daddies at school." Then seeing the +young face cloud over, "But I shall take you there. When you are +fourteen we will all go to England for a holiday, and I shall leave +you at school." + +"And come back here?" + +"Yes, you see your father has to make money to pay for your +schooling." + +The young arm tightened around his neck, and in the dim light Dean +saw the boy's mouth quiver. + +"I don't want to leave you, Daddy." + +"It won't be for long, not very long," he said, "and when you have +grown up you will be able to keep your old Daddy always by your +side--if you want him." + +"I shall always want you. There's--there's only us." + +There was a silence then between the man and the boy. Dean stared +out across the valley. The stars glittered frostily and the moon was +coming up behind the precipice. But he hardly noticed that, for his +thoughts were far away in England. In two years or so he would be +alone--out here, an exile, with his boy far away. + +The moon slowly climbed, peered over the precipice and then flooded +the gorge. A breeze came wandering along the night and stirred the +boy's hair as he lay sleeping in his father's arms. It was growing +late, but Dean sat on, moving not, just looking down on the sleeping +face of the tired boy. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +In the shadow of one of the walls of the castle of Amasia two boys +were resting during the hot noon-tide, for it was near the end of May +and the summer sun was already scorching the plains and reducing the +size of the Iris as it flowed along the gorge. + +Another two years had wrought a change in John and his friend, Ali +the Turk. They were fourteen and fifteen respectively, but John had +outgrown Ali, both in height and breadth. This slight period had +further developed the English boy who now looked sturdy and thickset +in comparison with the slim Turk. They had climbed all the morning, +starting out before the sun had dried the dew on the ground. Ali's +uncle had shown them over the castle, a treat that had been postponed +through one cause and another until this day. The excursion had been +made at last because the two boys would soon be parted. + +In three days' time, John was setting out with his father for +England. Of that journey and the wonder that awaited him at the end +of it, John had talked for months, and Ali eagerly listened to every +detail of the new life his friend would soon be living. England, to +Ali, was a country of fabulous wealth, where great lords lived in +wonderful houses; most of them were soldiers, and the country in +which they lived was so small that open spaces were almost unknown. +It was from John that he gained his first conception of a public +school, which seemed something very unlike the great schools in +Constantinople where his father would send him one day. As the two +boys rested in the shade they were busy with their own thoughts. +Below them, almost under the high rock where they lay, crouched the +town of Amasia. They had a bird's-eye view down the gorge, and +across to the opposite precipice walling in the valley. They could +see the course of the winding river until it abruptly turned from +sight in the bend of the valley; they counted the bridges +intersecting its silver stream, and saw behind the trees fringing its +banks, the flat-topped houses, the slender minarets, dwarfed by the +height from which they looked, and the patternless maze of baths, +domes, khan courtyards, and mosques covering the narrow valley. Far +up the eastern precipice they could follow the winding highway, +climbing like a white ribbon, until it reached even higher than the +rock where they lay, and disappeared over the pass leading to +Marsovan. + +As they watched and half dreamed, they heard the muezzin calling to +prayer. Ali straightway arose, and as if John had not been present, +performed his elaborate genuflections, bowing his head to the ground. +John did not watch Ali closely. On such occasions he always felt a +little awkward and hardly knew what he should do. He did not wish to +give Ali an impression of irreverence; on the other hand, he was +English and a Christian, and felt he had something which he should +uphold. He pretended therefore, whenever Ali performed his religious +exercises, not to be aware of them. The subject was one they never +discussed, each avoiding it with caution. + +When Ali had finished, he stood up and looked at John in silence for +a minute. His friend lay on his back, one leg crossed over the +other, with a brown arm propping up the sunburnt face and head. As +if aware that Ali was watching him, John sat upright. + +"Ali," he said, "let's have a bathe, I'm baked! Is there any water +near?" + +"There's a stream half a mile down, it runs into the Iris, I've often +bathed there--shall we go?" + +"Yes!" cried John, springing up. They set off at a brisk pace over +the rocky ground. They found the stream, and as if constructed for +bathing there was a deep pool where it turned into a rocky crevice. +Eager to cool their sun-weary limbs, the two boys were soon stripped, +and splashed and shouted in the clear water. As they swam they +seemed like silver fishes in the crystalline stream, and long +practice had made them adept swimmers. John who had been looking for +a place from which to dive, soon found a jutting rock lower down the +stream. Calling to Ali, he mounted it and stood poised for the dive. +As he did so, he stood up straight, cutting the brilliant sky with +his slim brown body. Ali, looking up stared at his friend, for +although only fifteen he had the Asian's keen appreciation of beauty. +Behind John's head the sunlight danced in his wind-fluttered hair, it +gilded his shoulders and rimmed with silver the outline of his young +body, and as the muscles quivered, the wet flesh gleamed like a +burnished shield. + +As he watched, John raised his arms straight above his head, the slim +body was taut for a moment, the muscles contracted, then suddenly +relaxed themselves and rippled as the shining figure leapt through +the air and fell like a silver arrow into the blue pool below. For a +moment the diver disappeared under a broken bubbled surface, and +then, spluttering and laughing, John had reappeared. Ali stood on +the bank, shivering despite the heat. He was unhappy and could not +shake off a heavy sense of doom. What oppressed him he did not quite +know, he could only attribute it in some way to John going away from +him to a distant land. + +Swimming to the side, John climbed the bank and was amazed to find +Ali not there. Their clothes lay together all in a heap, so it was +impossible for him to have gone far. There was nothing to be heard +save the hum of insects and the soft whisper of the grasses as they +bent under the breeze. Ali would come back soon, he thought, as he +lay down in the grass. It was delicious to feel the wind pass over +his body. It touched him as though it delighted in rippling over the +flesh and he felt its cool hand play on his shoulders then run +swiftly down to his stomach, along his legs and finally make a queer +sensation on the soles of his feet. He let his head fall and +half-turned on his side. The wind blew down his back and between his +legs deliciously. Why didn't Ali come, where had he gone?--it must +be nearly two o'clock, they would have a . . . . + + +When John awoke he had a feeling it was late afternoon. The sky +above him was not such a brilliant blue, some of the lustre had gone +out of it. The stream sang louder than before, otherwise there was +perfect quiet, for the insects had ceased humming. All at once he +realised he was naked. Of course, he had been bathing and had slept +in the grass, waiting for Ali! Where was Ali? John got up and then +gave a low cry. His friend too, was fast asleep at his side. John +stretched out his hand to wake him, when he felt something upon his +head. It was a wreath, twined out of asphodel, pressed over his brow +like a crown. He drew it off with a laugh. Ali had been playing +tricks. His laughter woke Ali, who sat up. + +"Hadn't we better get dressed?" asked John, standing up. "What's the +wreath for?" + +"To crown you." + +John laughed gaily, and then checked himself, for there was an +expression of pain on Ali's face. His friend was now on his knees, +his sunburnt body erect, and he was looking at him from under a brow +half hidden with hair tousled by the wind. John had never seen Ali +look like that before. The eyes were no longer those of a merry lad, +but belonged rather to a suffering dumb brute. As John looked down +at him, their eyes met, and a low cry escaped Ali's lips. + +"What is it, Ali?" John asked, stooping, and his question seemed to +loose a floodgate of the emotions, for Ali flung his arms round the +boy's ankles, and sobbed as if his heart would break. + +Like all males, John hated the sight of tears; it made him feel +awkward; he knew not what to say or do. So he just stood still and +looked down at the bowed back of his friend. Then, unable to watch +Ali's distress any longer, he bent down, and with sheer strength, +lifted him on to his feet and held him just as a mother would a +troubled child. Somehow, John felt years older, and Ali seemed like +a baby--it was strange, because Ali had always been so silent, so +reserved, with a kind of hidden strength which had often made John +admire him secretly. + +"I say, Ali--you mustn't go on like this,--what is the matter?" + +"You are going away, John effendi." + +"Yes, but I shall come back,--besides why do you worry so?" + +"You are my friend, John effendi--I would never leave you--you are +more to me than a brother." + +"Thanks, Ali--we--we've been great friends, and when I come back--" + +"You will come back?" + +"Of course I shall! I shall spend my summer holidays at +Constantinople with my father. He wants to take you there with him, +unless you are there at school. I didn't know you--thought so +much--of me, All." + +"Have I not always followed you, effendi? You are English, I am a +Turk--but we are brothers--and now you are leaving me." + +He stood there holding John as if he would hold him thus through +time. The English boy, embarrassed, with the British instinctive +dislike of emotional display, knew not what to say. He wanted to say +something that would express all he felt, his love for his friend, +and all the happy times they had had, but no adequate words would +come. So he just gave a short, forced laugh, tightened his grip on +the other boy, and then turned and picked up his shirt. + +"I say, we must get dressed!--it's getting late." + +Ali was now calm. The storm had passed. They made their way down +the mountain side almost without words. The sun had not set, but the +town below was already in deep shadow and they could see the lights +glimmering. Now that the inevitable moment of parting was drawing +near, John began to feel something of the emotion which Ali had shown +by the pool. It was a break in his life, this parting; the first he +had ever made. They had been jolly days, and although the future had +its glamour, things would never be quite the same again. Ali would +grow up, and he would grow up, each in different worlds, with +different customs. They would meet in two years, but two years was a +long time. Dear old Ali, if only he could take him with him! + +They had now reached the fountain at the foot of the steep street +where the ways parted. The inevitable moment had come. John took +All's hand and gripped it, English fashion. + +"Good-bye, Ali--I'll write to you often. We'll meet in two years." + +"Insh' Allah--God willing," said Ali gravely. "I will make you a +gift, John effendi, will you give me a promise?" + +"Yes, Ali--what is it?" + +Ali opened his shirt at the neck, and lifted over his head a thin +chain. At the end of the chain hung an oval moonstone; on one side +it had Turkish characters, on the other the etching of an eye. John +had often seen this charm against the evil eye hanging on his +friend's neck, but as it no doubt had something to do with his faith, +John had refrained from asking any questions. + +"See, effendi--I give you this talisman. My father brought it from +Mecca. It will keep you from harm, and also you will remember me by +it. Will you wear it always?" + +The tone was so earnest, and Ali spoke with such gravity that John +nodded his head, which he lowered while Ali passed the chain over him +until the talisman hung on his breast. For a moment there was an +awkward pause. Ali seemed about to say something, but his lips did +not move. John feared another outburst; so gripping his friend's +hand, he looked into his eyes for the last time. + +"Good-bye, Ali!" he said, and was quickly gone into the darkening +twilight. Down the street he felt an overmastering impulse to turn +and wave to Ali, who, he knew, would stand watching his going, but +such an act would only prolong the agony. With a firm resolve he +strode on along the way home. + +It was dinner time when John reached the house, and he just had time +to wash before the gong sounded. Seated at table he was very quiet +during the meal, and when coffee had been served and they had passed +out onto the verandah where so many happy evenings had been spent, +Dean drew John down into his big wicker chair. + +"You are very quiet, John--anything the matter?" + +"No, father--I was only thinking." + +"What of?" + +"Oh--of England, and leaving here, and--Ali." + + +The moon had come up over the precipice and flooded the garden in +soft light. They could see the river, like a silver shield where it +turned in its course. Not a leaf stirred in the garden, but there +were sounds floating about the night. From the orchard came the +first notes of a bulbul; more distant, they could hear the musical +rippling of the water as it sang in and out among the rocks, and +further off, subdued, pulsating with mystery, sounded the low droning +of a native drum. It rose and died in the night air with its +barbaric note insistently calling. Calling what?--they did not know; +perhaps it drew towards it the Moslem spirits, as it had drawn them +on that night long ago when Timur came near, red with conquest. + +Dean looked down at the boy sitting quietly by him. The moonlight +glinted upon something on John's breast. He slowly drew out the +chain with its talisman. + +"What's this?" he asked, reading the Turkish characters--"Kismet!" + +"Ali gave it to me for a keepsake--what does Kismet mean, father?" + +"Destiny--all Moslems believe in it." + +"Do we?" asked John. Dean paused before replying. + +"Some of us do, some of us don't," he said quietly. Then there was +silence again, save for the drum calling through the night. + + + + +BOOK II + +WEST + + + +CHAPTER I + +The guard's whistle sounded shrilly, and in John's ears it seemed to +be cutting through his life as he stood on the platform at Sedley and +felt his hand held in his father's farewell grasp. The last carriage +door had been slammed, the perspiring porters mopped their brows +under the hot September sun, the train drew back a little with a +hissing of steam and a rasping of brakes, then slowly crawled +forward. John ever afterwards carried a distinct impression of his +father as he saw him that afternoon leaning out of the carriage +window. The tanned face, the clear grey eyes and clean-cut features +all stamped themselves upon his memory. The ring in his father's +voice as he said-- + +"Good-bye, John--you'll soon settle down,"--then the long pause, the +last look into his eyes, and the tightened hand. These impressions +burnt themselves upon the boy's brain, and, somewhat overwhelmed with +the pain of it all, he stood watching the train dwindle down the +line. It drew out of sight, first the long length of carriage +windows, then the shortened perspective, until the back of the +guard's van covered the train, finally the lamps, the two buffers, +and a coiled up gas connection--and a long stretch of shining steel +rails that converged to a point. He wanted to run along that iron +way, to catch that train, to get away from this terrible desolation +creeping over him. He stood, lonely and miserable, in a crowd of +shouting boys and porters struggling with luggage. Just outside the +station, beyond the white palings where the ticket collector stood, +was a waggonette packed with boys of all ages. John looked at them +curiously. They were to be his companions, to form his life in the +coming years. + +In Amasia he had looked forward to mingling with boys of his own age +and race, but now their noisy behaviour and boisterous good humour +repelled him. He thought how much preferable was Ali with his quiet +oriental manner. There was also another disconcerting experience +which depressed him--his new clothes irritated him. He had worn +trousers for a week now and hated them. His waistcoat was like a +chain round his chest and he wanted to tear the vile Eton collar from +his throat in rage. He longed for his loose open shirt, his easy +shorts and socks. There were other clothes packed away in that white +wooden box, with black iron flanges. John stared at his initials, +black-lettered on the front--"J.N.D."--did they belong to him? +Somehow they seemed to shout at him, to possess him, and the "N" in +the middle grew and swelled until it dwarfed its companions. John +was terribly afraid of that "N". Why hadn't the porter stuck the +luggage label over it? He recalled what that awful boy, at the house +where his father went to dine one day, had said, when he told him his +name. + +"Narcissus! Good Lord, you will get ragged!" + +"Ragged--what's that?" he had asked. + +"Oh--knocked about--chivied." And then, in a friendly tone, "You'd +better keep that name quiet." + +John must have stood thinking on the platform for a considerable +time. It was almost empty. He would walk back to the school. His +housemaster's wife had asked him to have tea with her. He +instinctively liked Mrs. Fletcher. She was motherly and there was +such a pleasant ring in her voice, also she was beautiful and +probably young. Her cheeks were very fresh, as if she had walked in +the wind all day, and John liked the style in which she did her hair. +Fletcher too had attracted him, though he had not been able to notice +him much, for his father had talked to him about Eastern affairs. + +When John reached the school, he tapped on his housemaster's study +door and entered. He was in no genial mood, but full of warlike +thoughts. Mrs. Fletcher smiled at him as he entered and motioned for +him to sit by her side. There were other boys in the room, seven or +eight, all laughing and talking with Mr. Fletcher, and John wondered +whether he would ever be on such familiar terms with the master as +these boys were. There was something about the book-lined study +which pleased John--it had such a homely look and Mr. Fletcher seemed +all the more attractive because of his study. The books, portraits +and pictures were interesting, the chairs were very comfortable, and +Mrs. Fletcher gave attention to John. Soon he was laughing at +something she had said which amused him immensely, and he laughed as +only a boy can laugh. Mr. Fletcher turned from the group about him +and looked across at John. + +"Now I wonder what I am missing, Dean?" he said. "Come here. This +is Mason--Rogers, Russell, Thomson, and Vernley." He indicated the +boys with a sweep of his hand, and John surveyed his new +schoolfellows. One boy attracted him, a heavily-built fellow with +carefully brushed hair that was thick and shiny. John saw that he +was strong, so strong that he looked ungainly in his suit, which +tightened with every movement, but what attracted John was Vernley's +smile, it was so good natured, and warm, like sunshine. He was +pleased when Mr. Fletcher added-- + +"Vernley is in your dormitory, Dean." Then turning to the boy, "You +must take charge of Dean until he finds his way about. Now you'd +better get along, all you. Don't forget to see the Matron about your +things, and chapel's at seven-thirty." + +John followed the boys out into the corridor. He shivered as he +closed the study door. On this side of it he was in the school and +it looked so depressingly barren after the cosy study. He watched +the other boys with envy as they walked down the corridor to the +Matron's room. Vernley was among them, and seemed to have forgotten +the master's injunction, but at the Matron's door he waited for John. + +"Come along, our boxes are up in the dorm,--yours has been put next +to mine--I'll show you the way up." + +Putting his arm in John's he led the way, talking as they went. To +John it was a novel experience. He had never talked to another +English boy in this free manner, and the friendliness with which +Vernley had taken his arm gave him a slight thrill. It was pleasant +to be noticed like this, and already he liked his companion. There +was something so placid and solid about him which appealed to John. +There was nothing Eastern about this boy, he talked without reserve +and his clear brown eyes seemed like those of a young animal rather +than a human being. + +Vernley sat down on John's bed and explained the various contrivances +in the room. It was a long well-lit chamber with eight beds on +either side, bordered by two long strips of carpet. The middle of +the floor was bare. + +"It's jolly cold too," said Vernley, "when you stand on it with the +wind blowing over you." + +"Stand on it, why?" + +"Oh, it's Lindon's fad--he's a physical culture crank, he's prefect +here. He makes us all strip night and morning and has us squirming +on our backs with our legs in the air,--but he's quite a decent chap. +You'll get on with him well." + +"Why?" + +"Oh, you look so splendidly fit--he's simply mad on fitness. He +spends half his time torturing me to get my fat down." + +"But you're strong," said John admiringly. + +"Oh, yes, but it is not strength he believes in--it's what he calls +form, the Greek ideal--he's always talking about some Greek johnny, +and he's rather like one himself. What's the J.N. for?" Vernley +broke off abruptly and stared at the box. + +"John Narcissus--" + +"Narcissus!" + +"Yes--it's Greek too," John smiled, and Vernley laughed. John +noticed that he had teeth like an animal's--white and strong. + +"Well--they'll call you 'Cissy' for short." + +"Oh, please don't tell them--I hate it," he said, looking at Vernley +imploringly. + +"Very well--then it'll be Scissors--that's more cutting!" + +"I don't mind that--what's your name?" + +"What do you think--there's only one name for all persons like +myself--Tubby--isn't it a libel?" + +"Yes--you're not too fat. I think you're--" John hesitated, + +"Well, what--let's hear." + +"You're quite--splendid." + +Vernley laughed again in his fascinating way. + +"Thanks--I can return that compliment." + +John flushed. He was glad Vernley had laughed like that. + +"That's strange, you know--saying that," added Vernley. + +"Why?" + +"Because most fellows never think about appearances--I always do, and +you do. I loathe ugliness. Lindon's always preaching on that text. +You'll hear him later, 'the good and the beautiful' that's his pet +phrase. He's beautiful enough, but he isn't good." + +"Why?--does he swear?" + +"Good lord, yes--we all do, there's worse things than that." He +stooped down and took a book out of the box at the foot of his bed. +Then he glanced at a watch on his wrist. + +"Glory!" he exclaimed, "it's a quarter past seven. Come along or +we'll be late." He hurried out, John following. He wished Vernley +had gone on talking, he interested him in Lindon. What was it Lindon +did? Perhaps he drank secretly, or cribbed, or--John hurried on, his +head filled with speculations. He was looking forward to seeing the +terrible Lindon. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +John's first week at Sedley passed with amazing rapidity. It was all +new to him, and enjoyable also. The masters were such a decent set +of fellows, and already John had formed a strong alliance with +Vernley. He had had tremendous good luck in this. Vernley was in +his second year and entitled to a study. A small room at the end of +the corridor was vacant, but it was only large enough for two boys. +All the other studies had four occupants, save fellows in the fifth +and sixth forms who had attained to the dignity of separate rooms. +When Vernley discovered that he was the odd man out with a study of +his own, he went straightaway to Mr. Fletcher and asked permission +for John to share it, which was readily granted. He and John entered +into partnership. So far the alliance had been a great success. + +It was the Wednesday half-holiday and John had just had his first +game of football. Exhilarated by the exercise and the novelty of it +all, he had changed from his muddy shorts and red and white shirt, +wallowed in the bath, and now sat stiff and tired in a wicker chair, +holding toast to the fire, while Vernley got out the tea cups. Tea +was the one meal they had in private, and both boys gloried in it. + +John, burning the toast furiously, sniffed with delight. + +"I say Verny--toast is the incense of the appetite--isn't it good?" +and he sniffed long and loud. Vernley looked at him. John's +curiously turned nostrils always fascinated him, they were just like +the faun's in the drawing class. + +"You ought to be called Bunny, not Scissors," he said, pouring hot +water into the teapot. + +"Why?" asked John turning round in the chair. + +"Damn!--watch that toast, it'll be black! Why, because you twitch +your nose like a rabbit. That's enough, don't toast any more." + +There was a long break in the conversation, filled with the noise of +crunching. + +"I shall have to go in a minute--I forgot to fill Lindon's kettle," +said John. + +"Hang Lindon--he's always running you about. I knew he would. He +doesn't like your being here." + +"Don't talk rot--he's been jolly decent to me, he was coaching me all +this afternoon. He's going to give me an hour at racquets +to-morrow," said John, defending Lindon stoutly; then seeing that he +had hurt Vernley-- + +"I say, Verny--don't be jealous--only it is decent of him. Why don't +you like him?" + +He looked at Vernley, who shifted uneasily and kicked the fender. + +"I never said I didn't like him," he answered. + +"But I know you don't--what's the reason?" + +"Well--it's because you're such a kid, Scissors." + +"Thanks, you're a year older--but that's no reason." + +"P'raps not--but I knew Lindon would go for you--I said so the first +night." + +"To-day's the first time he's taken any notice of me." + +"Is it?--he's watched you like a cat for a week. You don't know +Lindon--I do." + +"Then why are you so mysterious about him?" + +Vernley got up and cut himself a piece of cake. + +"Have a piece, Scissors?" + +"Thanks." + +"Look here, Scissors, you've said I'm jealous--well I am, but not for +the reason you think. You're only a kid and a green one at that. +I'm a year older, which isn't much, but I've been at school five +years, in a prep, and here, and I know who's who. Lindon's a clever +chap, captain of the first eleven, our best bat and all that--but +keep clear of him." + +Vernley would say no more after that. John went out and filled +Lindon's kettle and returned. His forced manner made Vernley watch +him curiously; John was evidently upset. + +"What is the matter," he asked John, abruptly. + +"Nothing." + +"That's a lie, Scissors--try again." + +John flushed deeply--"Well, nothing much," he confessed. + +"Has Lindon said anything?" + +"Yes." + +"About me?" + +John was silent. + +"I guessed so," said Vernley bitterly, "and you believe him?" + +"No--I don't--and I don't understand,--and I don't want to +understand." + +"But, Scissors, if--in the past," added Vernley. He looked anxiously +at John, who had picked up Punch and was looking through it. + +"Well--the past is the past, that's all. I say, Verny, listen to +this," he said, reading from the paper. He had dismissed the +subject, and Vernley sat and listened, looking at his friend with a +doglike affection. + + + +II + +John enjoyed the Saturday evenings when they all gathered in Mr. +Fletcher's study. They sat wherever they liked, on the floor, the +lounge, or in the windows, while Fletcher talked and his wife poured +out the coffee. Fletcher was a man of ideas and of sufficient +strength of mind to carry them out. He was never so happy as when, +pipe in mouth, he debated with six or eight boys at a time. It was a +time-honoured custom for the boys of his house to come in each +Saturday evening to talk over the school matches or any other topic +that presented itself. There was no attempt to make the conversation +"improving." Sometimes, led by a question, Fletcher would tell them +about his travels in Greece and Italy, illustrating them with +snapshots in his albums, or perhaps Mrs. Fletcher or one of the boys +would sing. The repertoire was in no way restricted. Occasionally +Vernley had to be forcibly deposed from the piano stool after an orgy +of music-hall ditties or waltz tunes, and any outburst of ragging was +quickly suppressed. The boys were not compelled to enter into any +conversation. They could take down the books and read if they wished +and sometimes complete silence reigned until Fletcher stood up, +knocked the ashes out of his pipe and said "Time, boys." + +There was one particular pleasure to which John always looked +forward--that was Lindon's playing. There was a magic quality in it +which held them spellbound; even Vernley admitted that Lindon knew +his way about on the piano. The pianist would sit down in front of +the keyboard, wait for the preparatory hush which he commanded as a +brilliant performer, run his fingers up and down the keys once or +twice as if making their acquaintance, and then begin. Sometimes it +was Beethoven he played. John never forgot the thrill that ran down +his spine when he heard the _Pathetique_ for the first time. Its +great soulful chords crashed through him, echoing along his brain +like thunder in a valley. + +But on this particular evening, Lindon was in a more festive mood. +He had won glory on the field that afternoon; his swiftness, his +quick decision had brought victory to his house, and some of the +seriousness which usually invested his manner was forgotten. It was +the last Saturday night of term. The examinations were nearly over. +The holiday spirit already made the school restive. So Lindon was in +good spirits. He chose Chopin, and sent the melodies rippling from +beneath his wonderful fingers. + +John, completely fascinated, stood leaning on the flat top of the +grand, it being his duty to turn over the music when the demi-god +nodded. Lindon started off with the _Valse Brilliante_ in four +flats. It was hackneyed, but not so to John who listened while the +magic movement seemed to lift him up with ecstasy. Then the pianist +played _Op._ 64--he seemed scarcely to touch the keys, for they +whirred just like the wind blowing through a leafy tree. It was the +speed, the superb vivacity of it all that entranced John. Now they +were butterflies dancing rapturously, now a spinning wheel. Here was +something that reached an eloquence beyond words, a joy greater than +anything he had ever known. When Lindon ceased, John's eyes were +sparkling with intense delight. The pianist, seeing his pleasure, +laughed lightly. The applause he did not appear to notice; it was +John's boyish approval which he looked for and found at the +conclusion of each piece. + +How long Lindon sat at the keyboard John had no idea. His ecstasy +was suddenly shattered by the performer who said, + +"Only one more, Scissors, then you can sit down." + +And this time it was something that stirred John until he felt he +must cry out. It was the exquisite pain of it. As he watched Lindon +he was strangely attracted; the latter was no longer smiling. He sat +with compressed lips and stern eyes. The slender hands flew over the +thundering bass and swept like a whirlwind into the treble. The +player's hair, shaken with the energy of his execution had fallen +over his brow. There was something fierce about Lindon as he sat +there, something that made John draw in his breath with half fear and +wonder. He had never seen this Lindon before. The gracious, +laughing young hero whom he worshipped had changed into a being +capable of great passion, and perhaps cruelty. + +It was the _Drum Polonaise_ which Lindon played. It began like the +slow murmur of thunder, and then it broke into a wild ecstatic music +like the mad flight of a thousand horses across a prairie. John +wondered how so much sound and furious activity could be torn out of +that piano, and the player's frenzy almost terrified him as he turned +the music, but his fear suddenly changed to a feeling of dread and +helplessness. The second movement had begun with its monotonous +bass. John listened, breathless; it was the sound of that drum which +enthralled him. It grew in intensity and passion, it called, called, +called with a horrible fascination. John looked at Lindon, but the +latter seemed oblivious of all but the page before him. The sound +swelled up and smote on John's ears like a flood of waters; a curious +numbness stole over him--the drum seemed nearer now, it was soothing, +he would know nothing soon, already feeling had left him, he-- + +Lindon was the first to jump up as John swayed and fell in a heap on +the floor. He sprang from the stool and lifted up the insensible +lad. Fletcher and his wife were pending over John when he opened his +eyes again. Where was he? He did not quite know, yet he was very +tired. Then he heard some one call "Scissors!" and looking up again +saw Lindon bending over him, with anxious face. He was safe; he +could feel the rigid muscles of his arms as he held him. He let his +head sink with a sigh. + +"I think it's the air, sir, we're rather warm in here," said Lindon +to Fletcher. + +"Carry him into the hall, Lindon--you boys stop here." + +"Let me take him," said Mrs. Fletcher, all the mother nature of her +sounding in her voice. + +"It's all right, Mrs. Fletcher, I can carry him. I think the porch +would be the best place. The cold air will bring him round." + +Lindon lifted John like a baby and went out into the porch followed +by Fletcher and his wife. He deposited his burden in a wicker chair. + +"Don't wait, sir, I'll bring him in in a bit--look, he's all right +now." John sat up and looked at the anxious trio. + +"Better?" asked Fletcher, cheerfully. + +"Yes, sir--I'm awfully sorry," replied John. + +"Don't worry, my boy--you've played too hard to-day. Now sit here a +bit with Lindon. Ah, here we are!" + +Mrs. Fletcher had returned with rugs and wrapped the boy round with +them. + +When Fletcher and his wife had gone, John and Lindon sat in silence. + +Lindon could see Dean's face in the dim light and his eyes were still +very bright as he looked up at the sky. + +"Scissors," said Lindon quietly, "why did you faint?" + +"I don't know, Lindon--you frightened me, I think." + +"Am I so terrible?" the question was asked jokingly but not without +an undercurrent of feeling. + +"No--but you fascinate me--you have done since the first. It's only +when you are playing that I really seem to see you properly." + +Lindon gave a short laugh. "What a queer little beggar you are--I +suppose the East is in your blood. I hope Vernley hasn't been +playing on your imagination too much--he talks about me?" + +"No, he doesn't," said John shortly, "and you shouldn't ask me--I'm +his friend." + +"I'm sorry, Scissors--it is caddish, only--" he broke off and looked +out into the night. John sat in silence and waited. He knew Lindon +wanted to say something. Presently he spoke. + +"You see, Scissors, I don't want anything to upset our--well, we get +on fairly well, don't we? Somehow you've made me feel--oh, I'm +talking rot." + +"I suppose you've seen how I watched you," said John, "--I simply +couldn't hide it--I'm a little fool I know." + +"That's what made it all so difficult. It's not easy being a god," +responded Lindon. "You've put me on a pedestal--and I want to keep +on it." They talked more easily after that. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I + +It had been arranged that John should spend the Christmas and Easter +holidays with his housemaster. Fletcher had a cottage in Wales where +he went at the end of each term to repair his shattered constitution. +There, he dressed in a most amazing assortment of tweeds, smoked +endlessly, loved to sit in village bars and listen to village gossip, +and tramped over the mountains with inexhaustible energy. + +John spent the first fortnight with the Fletchers, after which he +went on to Vernley's people, who sent him a cordial invitation to +their home in Essex. It was there that John first became acquainted +with the amazing possibilities of life. + +The Vernleys lived in a rambling old house with long corridors in +which John could lose himself. Indeed, everything was on the +spacious side, with that heavy, solid prosperity stamped on it which +somehow fitted the Vernleys and all of John's preconceptions of them. +Mr. Vernley was a broad-shouldered man with a shock of black hair and +a tremendous voice. Mrs. Vernley was stout and tall, talked rather +loudly and made a draught whenever she moved, but she radiated +kindliness. The family, too, was on the large scale, for John found +himself being introduced to a crowd of brothers and sisters who +varied from being wonderfully beautiful to uncompromisingly ugly. + +There was Kitty, aged twenty-two, a big-boned woman, who talked +horses all day long; then Alice two years her junior, the musical +genius of the family. Vernley had great faith in his sister's future +as a singer because she was so fat. Tod, twenty, and in the first +flush of glory at Balliol, was the Vernley Adonis. He had the good +looks that wonderful health and spirits bestow. His cheeks were +tanned, his laugh cheery, and when he didn't sing or talk, he +whistled. Vernley said that sitting near Tod was like being near a +radiator, he warmed you like an animal. With great cheerfulness, Tod +offered to teach the two boys how to box. He took them up into a dim +roomy attic, stripped them, tied the gloves on to their hands, and +made them pound away at each other while he bellowed his +encouragement. At the end of half an hour, the two boys being +utterly exhausted, he just tucked them under his arms, walked down to +the bathroom and turned the cold water tap on them as if they had +been two mice he had wished to drown. They emerged from their first +boxing lesson with a black eye each. In addition John had a swollen +nose and Vernley a cut lip. When they both appeared at tea-time, the +family yelled with delight, save Mrs. Vernley, whose motherly +instinct forbade further boxing lessons. + +And here it was that the amazing complexity of life first dawned upon +John's consciousness. Mr. Vernley was a member of Parliament and he +brought his friends on week-end visits to "The Croft." John looked +at these persons with considerable awe. They were all doing, or +going to do something big. Among them was Chadburn, quiet, +unassuming, strictly conscientious, with a fine face and a courteous +manner. + +John walked with him through the woods one Sunday morning, and at the +end of half an hour, fell in love with him; all that night he had +visions of himself as a private secretary. It would be glorious to +be near him each day, to go in on a thick-carpeted floor with a sheaf +of papers and say, "Will you sign these, sir?" or, "A deputation +wishes to see you, sir," or "Your speech is in your bag, sir," and +his hero would say, "Thank you, Dean; I shall be back to-morrow--take +cuttings from the _Times_ and _Telegraph_," Perhaps he could +accompany his chief to a big meeting and see him sway the crowd, hear +him cheered in the packed hall and he would want to get up, and say, +"That is my chief--I am his secretary." John went to bed that Sunday +with life revealing a wonderful vista before him, for as he had +passed through the lounge where the men sat smoking, he had heard +Chadburn say, "That boy's as intelligent as he's handsome." As the +two boys undressed, Vernley noticed his friend's elation. + +"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked. + +"Oh, ripping! It's glorious here, Vernley--I don't know how to thank +you," which sent the devoted Vernley to bed equally happy. + +There were two other incidents of that holiday that stood out in his +memory for many years. The first dawn of adolescence stirred in him, +disquieting, but wonderful. Muriel awakened him, Muriel the +vivacious, sixteen, home from school in Belgium, the prettiest of the +Vernley girls and just ready to fall in love for the simple adventure +of it. They liked each other at sight; she admired his slim grace, +the brown healthiness of his skin, the fine ring in his laughter; he, +her elusive charm and tomboyish air. Her quick, witty chatter in +English or French was music to the enchanted John; and she rode her +horse like a princess. + +Each morning, after breakfast, three or four mounts were brought +round from the stables, the groom waiting until the riding party was +ready. Sometimes Vernley and Kitty made up the quartette, with John +and Muriel. John sat his horse superbly, the legacy of Amasian days, +with the result that he and Muriel were often far in advance of the +other couple, for Vernley rolled on his seat like a sack, and Kitty +acted as whipper-in. + +One morning, after a breathless gallop, John and Muriel found +themselves alone together on the white road running through a little +copse of birch trees. The girth of Muriel's saddle had slackened, +and John helped her to dismount and tightened it. Then slipping +their reins over their arms, they walked the horses on to the soft +turf bordering the road. On a barren bough a robin began to sing +cheerfully. Muriel gave a little cry of delight, and as John looked +at her, his flesh thrilled with her laughter. She was flushed, with +her fair hair falling over two pink ears, and as she turned to him +with her beautiful eyes, she caught him in the act of open +admiration. Muriel looked away, pretending she had not noticed. + +"Shall we mount and get on?" she said awkwardly. She placed one foot +in the stirrup, and John placed his hand under the other to help her +into the saddle. It was the first time he had ever touched her and a +queer self-consciousness caused him to bungle, for she failed to gain +the saddle. The horse moved, and Muriel fell back into his arms. It +was an accident which John took as a gift from the gods. He gave an +awkward little laugh as he looked down into her timid eyes and she +tried to hide her face on his shoulder. The soft brushing of her +hair on his cheek gave him courage; holding her in his strong young +arms, he raised her face with one hand and saw the laughter in her +eyes. Then deliberately he kissed her lips, her soft wavy hair +falling over his brow, her arms pressed tight and warm around his +neck. It was a moment's delight, with no passion in it--only youth +discovering youth and thrilled with the wonder of it. + +Almost gravely John helped her into the saddle, and they started off +at a canter. The wind whipped their faces, the superb vitality of +the horses seemed to flow through their bodies. Ahead lay the wooded +country and the chimneys of "The Croft." John remembered that white +strip of road, the birch-tree copse and the laughter in Muriel's eyes +evermore. In the years that followed he was to love, but it was +never quite the same, there was more intelligence in it, more +consciousness, more passion, but not the quick edge of sharp surprise. + + + +II + +John's Christmas at "The Croft" was his first experience of life at +an English country house, and he saw there how money and leisure +could make existence almost ideally tranquil. He learned too, the +patrician order of things. Hitherto, humanity for him had only been +classed in nationalities. He had recognised, of course, that mankind +itself was divided into the rich and poor, those who did what they +wished, and those who laboured as they must. But he now saw that +Society was more subtly divided; it had its rigorous caste systems, +and he was living in the strictest caste of all. The county type +that he met at "The Croft" was something distinct. It spoke very +definitely of humanity as "the masses." Clearly they were a slightly +inferior people, to whom a duty must be performed. They had to be +kept in their places, taught to recognise superiority and to render +homage without servility; in return for this recognition they were +rewarded with the influence and interest of those who controlled +their lives. + +Down in the village John found that, as the guest of the Vernleys, he +was somebody. The villagers touched their caps to him, the +postmistress was effusively polite. All this seemed strange at first +to John, for accustomed to the deference of the Moslem before all +Englishmen, he had conceived a socialistic idea of the position and +powers of all who spoke his native tongue. After a time he grew +accustomed to the patrician attitude. It was so easy to assume the +air of command, to know that servants, even English ones, were there +to serve, and that one could be perfectly polite to them and forfeit +no respect or authority. + +He admired the young squire manner of his friend Vernley--the way in +which he obtained all he wanted. The whole country-side was his, the +farmhouses all gladly opened their doors at his approach. The name +of Vernley was powerful. The next thing John realised was that the +name was loved. The Vernleys had lived on the land for generations, +and their knowledge of every family on the estate was unique. They +knew the hereditary tendencies of Farmer Jenkins' children, the +constitutional inclination of the Wichsteeds to bronchitis, the +wanderlust that was in the blood of all the Wilkinsons' younger sons. +John's friend too was intimate with all the village boys. He played +cricket with them, called them by their Christian names, and assumed +leadership in their midst without any rivalry or jealousy. + +This was new and strange to John; but it all seemed part of the +landscape. The village people were the natural possessions of the +Vernleys, just as much as the fine old copper beeches in their drive, +or the splendidly level lawn and flower-bordered terraces. It had +always been so, and there was no reason why it should ever change. +The village church, with its tombs of dead Vernleys also showed that +their religion was a family affair, looked after by the vicar who +held his living by appointment of a Vernley. + +Comfort too was so visible in that home. There were solidarity and +security in those massive oak doors under the stone portico. The +heavy carpets sank richly under the feet; one felt majestic ascending +the broad staircase with its crest-panelled pillars. The bedrooms +with the blues, reds, and greens of carpets and eiderdowns and +couches had a solemn splendour, particularly after the coldness of a +school dormitory. It gave John a peculiar sense of pleasure to watch +the maid in the morning enter his room with the hot water. The +copper water can gleamed as the felt cover with its monogram came +off. The curtains as they were drawn, fell back in heavy beautiful +folds, and his bed was a massive thing built to endure for +generations. + +John revelled in all these things so new in his life and he looked at +Vernley closely when that young gentleman expressed no particular +delight, no pride of proprietorship. John, of course, was careful +not to show his ecstasy. He accepted everything without comment, but +secretly he exulted. Life was going to be pleasant enough with such +splendid traditions and beautiful houses. He would spend his days +visiting friends; he would find such a house himself, and entertain +large parties. The wine should stand richly in beautiful glasses, as +it did on the Vernleys' table at night time, discreetly lit with +shaded candles in the silver candelabra. He would find servants as +well trained, a butler as majestic, and the stables at the back of +his house should be filled with superb horses, flawlessly groomed. + +Dreaming in this manner one night as he lay in bed, he suddenly +started with a recollection that his home had once been like the +Vernleys. He had seen photographs of "Fourways," and heard his +father speak of Tom the groom--a splendid beater or loader. With a +thrill of discovery John recalled his inheritance; it explained so +much, his joy in these surroundings, the feeling that somehow he was +at home again among the Vernleys. This was no new life; it was the +old life, the one his father had known. + +And then John realised how much he had lost. The mention of family +misfortune had formerly conveyed nothing to him. He had been quite +happy in his home at Amasia. There was nothing wanting, and he had +often wondered at his father's ceaseless recollections of "Fourways." +Now he realised all that the change to that hard, bright, lonely life +in Amasia had meant, and the fuller knowledge clouded the boy's +happiness. He would build up the family fortune again and take his +father back to "Fourways." So thinking, he fell asleep to dream of +his father greeting Tom who came to welcome him back, and somehow in +that dream he mingled--but he was not alone. There was Muriel with +him, flushed with riding, her cheeks whipped with the wind, her eyes +bright with happiness, and her hand, soft and warm, holding his as he +helped her down from the saddle. + +John awoke in the morning to the sound of bells. It was Christmas +Day, and springing out of bed he ran to the window that overlooked +the drive opposite the church gate. The bells were clamouring +merrily and he could see the villagers making their way to the early +morning service. Picking up his towel he rushed off to the bathroom, +shouted loudly at the shock of the cold shower, dressed quickly and +ran downstairs just as the breakfast gong sounded. In the dining +room the family was busy opening presents. There were three for him, +one from Vernley and two from his host and hostess. With boyish +impulse he went up and kissed Mrs. Vernley delightedly. Life was +good! + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I + +On Christmas eve John had noticed another guest at dinner, but he had +no opportunity of studying the person, who was addressed as Mr. +Steer. The next morning after breakfast, there was a walking party +to Holdfast Covert, about three miles, whence a fine view of the +surrounding country was obtainable. John asked Vernley all about the +stranger, for he was attracted to him by his manner. + +"The Governor's frightfully keen on Steer," said Vernley. "He's a +poet and quite well-known--at least I think so. There's always a +mild sensation in the district when Steer's down here." + +"Have you read his books?" + +"No, I've seen them of course--they're always prominent in the +drawing-room when he comes here. He's not like most of those writing +people who everlastingly talk about themselves, and he's a sportsman. +He'll start love-thirty with any one on the tennis court and beat +'em." + +It was on the way back from the covert that John had his first +conversation with Steer. The boy had fallen behind to tie up a shoe +lace, and the poet was hacking away at a wand he had cut out of the +thicket. + +"What are you making, sir?" asked John, overtaking him. + +"A whistle--can you make one?" + +"No--I'm not very handy with a pocket knife." + +"Well, there you are--that's a sycamore pipe which you can play--like +the Idle Shepherd Boys," said Steer, giving the stick to John. + + "_On pipes of sycamore they play + The fragments of a Christmas hymn,--_ + +I suppose you know that?" + +John confessed his ignorance, but he liked the sound of it and wanted +to hear more. + +"God bless me," said Steer, "you mean to say that you've not heard of +Wordsworth? I thought every boy out of a nursery had been brought up +on 'We are Seven' and 'The Idle Shepherd Boys.'" + +"I've never heard of Mr. Wordsworth," said John naïvely,--"do tell me +about him." + +"Oh, he's quite dead now--he was what is called a Lake poet--he lived +at the English Lakes, Grasmere and Rydal to be precise, where there +was a group of these poets and essayists--Coleridge, Southey, De +Quincey, Christopher North--names you've probably heard. 'The Idle +Shepherd Boys' was a favourite poem when I was a lad. I remember +reciting it to my mother for a penny. She used to give me a penny +for every new poem I learned. I remember how she laughed when I +pronounced 'vapours'--'vappers.' The first stanza runs-- + + _The valley rings with mirth and joy; + Among the hills the echoes play + A never, never ending song, + To welcome in the May. + The magpie chatters with delight; + The mountain raven's youngling brood + Have left the mother and the nest; + And they go rambling east and west + In search of their own food; + Or through the glittering vapours dart + In very wantonness of heart._" + + +"Oh, how jolly! Do go on please!" shouted John eagerly, and his new +friend recited the whole poem. The joy on the boy's face greatly +amused him. + +"You've evidently got a taste for verse, John--but there's much +better stuff than that. Wordsworth was a philosopher, he wrote +splendid things like-- + + _Love had he known in huts where poor men lie; + His daily teachers had been woods and rills, + The silence that is in the starry sky, + The sleep that is among the lonely hills._" + + +These words fell upon John's ears as music. It was a spell upon him, +something that took him into a realm of wonderful sounds and visions. +On that walk home, he plied the poet with questions, and Keats, +Shelley, Browning and Byron became more than mere names. He learned +how they had lived, of Byron's picturesque, turbulent career; of +Shelley's passion for reform; of Keats' struggle against disease and +the burning ardour for the glory that was Greece. And then Steer +told him of living men who were writing. "But don't meet them if you +can help," he advised. "You should never meet authors of the books +you admire--they have conserved their best moments in a few pages, +and they cannot live up to your expectations--and authors, too, are +not the pleasantest of mankind. There is sufficient egotism in a +room full of them to lift St. Paul's to the top of Everest." + +"But you're a poet yourself, Mr. Steer--and you're not at all +objectionable!" said John laughingly. + +"Perhaps that's why I'm such a bad one," answered Steer. They had +now overtaken the others and Vernley, looking round, noticed John's +excited manner. + +"Whatever's stirred you up, Scissors?" he asked. "You look as if +you'd found a gold mine!" + +"Mr. Steer's been telling me about the poets. Oh, Verney, I'd no +idea they were such a ripping set. Have you got a Wordsworth at +home?" + +"Yes--but you haven't come here to read that stuff--you'll have to +read it when you get at your 'remove'--a horrible old man, always +grousing about some 'divine, far-off event'--no, that's Tennyson. +How does it run? I've got it-- + + _a sense sublime + Of something far more deeply interfused, + Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns + And the round ocean and the living air--_" + + +"That's beautiful, it's--" exclaimed John. + +"I call it utter tosh. Parse and analyse. Subject; there isn't one, +predicate; find it if you can; object--Good Lord, why don't these +fellows write sense? Whoever saw a round ocean?" + +"But that isn't what he meant--you mustn't take it pictorially." + +"Bravo, John, you've got the sense of it," interjected Steer. +"Bobbie's attempted to analyse it,--that's fatal." + +Vernley stared at John curiously for a moment, amazed at his friend's +enthusiasm, then-- + +"You are a rum beggar, Scissors; I believe you'd like to write stuff +like that yourself." + +"Perhaps he will--alas," sighed Steer. + +"Why do you say 'alas'?" asked John. "You're not at all sad, you're +quite jolly and--" + +"You can play tennis, sir," added Vernley in a consolatory voice. + + + +II + +For the remainder of the day, John's head was full of poetry. He had +found a copy of Wordsworth in the library, and after lunch, when +every one disappeared for a nap, he stole up to his bedroom, +successfully evading Vernley, who, he knew, would cover him with +derision if detected. Fortunately Vernley had gone across to the +vicarage with a message, and he was detained there with lemonade and +mince pies for a whole hour. In that time John read through "The +Idle Shepherd Boys" and "Lucy Gray." He then attempted "The +Excursion" and found it altogether too much for him, save one jolly +bit-- + + "_He loved; from a swarm of rosy boys + Singled me out, as he in sport would say, + For my grave looks, too thoughtful for my years,_" + +which ministered to his egotism, and helped him to build up visions +of long walks with Mr. Steer, in which he saw down into the soul of a +poet. He had given up "The Excursion" in despair, but later, turning +over the pages, he recognised the lines Vernley had quoted. Like an +old friend they seemed. He had just finished the "Lines composed +about Tintern Abbey," when Vernley, or Bobbie as the household called +him, burst in, searching for him. + +"Scissors, I've been all over the house--what are you doing?" + +"Reading." John closed the book and half hid it behind him, but +Vernley was too sharp and made a grab. One look, and the secret was +out. + +"Scissors! I've a good mind to scrag you." + +"If you can--but isn't it ripping-- + + _Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, + And the round ocean and the living air--_ + +--it's like eating caramels." + +"If you say it again, I will scrag you!" + +"_Whose dwelling is the light--_" began John provocatively. + +Vernley leapt upon him and they went down together, John underneath. + +"Say it again, Scissors!" cried Vernley, holding John's head firmly +to the floor. John wriggled and tried to shift the hand over his +mouth. + +"Whose dwelling is the--" he managed to get out before he was choked. +There was a wild scrimmage which ended with a great crash. They had +cannoned into the washstand, and the jug and basin lay in a thousand +fragments. + +"Golly!--what a mess!" commented Vernley from where he lay, surveying +the ruins. + +"Will your mater be angry?" asked John nervously. + +"No--she's used to having things smashed--it's a family failing. +I've made a mess of your collar, you'll have to put a clean one on. +Old Crimp's coming to tea, I've just been to the vicarage. He's a +dreadful old bore--but he's got a ripping kid. I can't think how he +did it." + +"Did what?" asked John naïvely. + +Vernley looked a him for a moment, and then went scarlet. +"Scissors," he said, taking his arm, "you are a bit of an angel--" + +"_Whose dwelling--_" began John derisively. + +"Shut up!--do you want to smash the looking glass next? Get your +collar on--there's the gong for tea." + + +Those days at "The Croft" went all too swiftly, and the morning came +when the two boys lifted their trunks into the car and were whirled +down the drive to the station. John left feeling that the end of +life had come. He had been among friends and had felt almost as if +he had been to his own home--the kind of home of which he had +dreamed. Mrs. Vernley had mothered him, and John's secret pleasure +at being petted had been expressed in many little acts of devotion. + +"What a lovable boy he is!" she said to her husband as she watched +the car recede down the drive. + +"Yes, and sharp too. They may well call him 'Scissors'--that boy +will cut his way through," replied Mr. Vernley. "Where's Muriel? I +thought she was going to the station with them?" + +Mrs. Vernley looked intently at her husband, but his face told her +nothing. Ten minutes before she had hurried a sobbing Muriel off to +her bedroom, where she was now going to lecture her on the absurdity +of falling in love at sixteen, but as she secretly sympathised with +her daughter she did not say anything to her husband. Upstairs in +the bedroom she found Muriel with watery eyes, standing by the +window, and screwing up a miniature handkerchief. Mrs. Vernley +looked at her and decided that further words would bring a deluge. +So she talked about everything but the thing in both their minds, and +the only allusion to John's departure was when she said, + +"Now, Muriel, wash your face. Miss Lane will be here for the music +lesson in a few minutes." + +It was then that Muriel found courage to make her confession. + +"I gave him a photograph, Mother--I hope you don't mind?" + +"Well, it's a little immodest for you to be presenting your +photograph so freely." + +"He asked me for it, Mother." + +"Oh,--but really, you children are very absurd! I shall dread Bobbie +bringing friends home with him if it means you are going to have red +eyes every time. But there--you'll get over it," she said kindly, as +she stooped and kissed her. "Now come along, dear, I'm afraid you +haven't done much practising for Miss Lane." + +The subject was never alluded to again, but Mr. Vernley the following +morning almost provoked another flood of tears. + +"You'll miss John, Muriel," he said genially at breakfast. "No more +morning gallops together--you looked quite a loving pair on +horseback." There was silence, then looking from Muriel to her +mother, a glance told him everything. + +"Why, bless me!--you don't mean to tell me--" + +Muriel had dropped her eggspoon in a desperate search for a +handkerchief. "My dear child!" cried Mr. Vernley, pinching her ear, +"I'd no idea young Master Scissors had made such a conquest. The +young beggar, I'll teach him to upset my daughter." He laughed +good-heartedly, saw Muriel force a smile through her tears, and then +diplomatically prevented further observation by spreading out the +_Times_. + + + +III + +The two boys in the train were very silent. Vernley immersed in a +copy of "The Hill." John sat staring out of the window. But it was +not the swiftly passing fields that engaged his attention, for at +that moment he was exercising what Mr. Steer, in the explanation of +Wordsworth's poem, had called "the inward eye, which is the bliss of +solitude." John's thoughts were not at all blissful. He was feeling +quite blue. The end of a glorious holiday had come, and having what +another poet had called "the passion of the past," he was reluctantly +taking stock of his memories. He had found delightful friends. +There were Mr. and Mrs. Vernley; he could never feel quite lonely in +England now. They represented home for John, being people who could +understand and sympathise. There was Mr. Chadburn who had talked to +him quite seriously. John had found a great friend in Mr. Steer. +They had had wonderful walks together, when John had been taken into +a new world that awaited his discovery. Steer had invited him to +call at his house when he was in London. He wondered whether Mrs. +Steer would be just as delightful. + +Then his thoughts turned to Muriel. She would be having her music +lesson from Miss Lane now. He had made her tell him all she was +going to do that day. After the music lesson she was going to visit +the stables. He saw her walking round the wing of the house, he saw +her small hand press the catch on the wicket gate, and her short +graceful steps as she crossed the cobbled stable-yard to the corner +where the horses were stabled. He knew exactly how she would lift +the iron bar out of its socket, swing back the half-door, call +"Bess!" and then stroke the white patch running from between the eyes +down to the nose. He could even smell the stable, with that +delightful manure and horsey aroma. + +He could see the deftness with which she slipped the bridle over +Bess's head, and the firm way in which she led her out of the stable, +for she insisted on attending to Bess herself, and with a sharp +movement she would be in the saddle at his side, level with and +laughing into his face, and their horses would walk clattering across +the cobbles, before breaking into a canter in the lane. He knew +every inch of that lane, just where the horses would gallop, and +where they would walk. He remembered the crest of the hill, with its +pattern below of fields and farmhouses and stacks; with the dim blue +clumps of leafless trees, and the barren telegraph poles, carrying +the singing wires across the valley towards the railway siding. Half +a mile over that crest was the copse where the robin sang as he +kissed her that wonderful morning when they had ridden ahead of the +others. + +And now he was being carried away from all that happiness! He was +going back to bare noisy rooms, to a crowd of boys and worried +masters. Would such times as he had had ever come again? His hand +at that moment rested on something hard in his pocket. It was +Muriel's photograph which she had given him before breakfast. He had +looked at it hurriedly then, in its tissue cover. Now he wanted to +take it out and feast his eyes upon it. He looked up; Vernley was +chewing butterscotch and still immersed in his book. He did not want +the old lady sitting near to see him gazing at the photograph, so he +got up and went into the adjoining lavatory. There he bolted the +door and pulled out the precious packet. + +Slipping the photograph from its paper cover, he saw it was a small +cabinet in sepia by Neame, New Bond Street, of Muriel in her riding +coat and cap. As he pulled it out something dropped to the floor. +It was a small piece of tissue paper. He was disappointed, for he +thought it was a note. Then seeing its shape, he knew it contained +something, which, after unwrapping, proved to be a strand of hair. +John immediately kissed it with all the sentiment of fifteen. He was +about to wrap it up again, when he had an inspiration. It was +another pledge of love and should be placed with Ali's gift. John +pulled out the chain with its moonstone pendant, which he faithfully +wore, and tied the strand of hair around the link. Then, putting the +photograph back into his pocket, he returned to the carriage. + + +The platform was crowded when they arrived at Sedley and there was a +fierce fight for seats in the brake. John found himself separated +from Vernley, but half an hour later, as he was going towards Mrs. +Fletcher's room, he was caught by the arm. + +"I say, Scissors, what do you think?" asked Vernley excitedly. +"We've got a new study! Maitland told me, and I didn't believe him, +but it's on the list. There's another fellow in with us--what a +nuisance! I don't know who he is." + +"What's his name?" + +"Marsh--Maitland says he's a new kid, tons of money and a motor bike. +He was at Eton and has come here for some reason. It looks queer--we +don't want Eton's cast-offs." + +"I beg your pardon," said a quiet voice. The boys turned to find +themselves surveyed by a calm young gentleman. He smiled at them in +a superior way. + +"My name is Marsh--of whom you speak. If my presence is offensive to +your secluded domain, I'll remove myself." + +"Pompous ass," thought John. Vernley stared at him. + +"Well, we are friends y' see," said Vernley at last. + +"So I perceive," murmured the tall youth, looking at Vernley, who had +his arm in John's. There might have been something offensive in the +fact, and the stranger impressed this upon them. Vernley drew his +arm away. + +"Do you always _perceive_ things?" asked John sarcastically. + +"When they are worth it," retorted Marsh. "When I've finished +unpacking, I'll speak to you again. So long," and he turned and +walked down the corridor, with deliberate dignity. + +"Well I'm snubbed," said Vernley. "Does Fletcher think we'll put up +with that piece of skin and grief!" + +"He'll speak to us again!--when he has finished unpacking! Bobbie, +we are dismissed!" cried John. + +Their next encounter with Marsh was more genial. They found him +sitting in the new study. When John and Vernley opened the door they +stood on the threshold and gasped. It was an amazing spectacle they +beheld. Two lounge chairs covered with chintz were placed on each +side of the fireplace. A blue cloth covered the table on which lay a +shallow black bowl. In the bowl was water on which floated, in +careless design, a dozen narcissi dropped in by the hand of Marsh. +The window was draped in chintz and in the far recess was a +magnificent bookcase. It towered up to the ceiling and was crammed +with sumptuous books in highly-coloured leather bindings. There were +four pictures on the walls, of a mysterious nature; those +sallow-faced maidens and thin-legged youths in red hose, John learned +later, were from the hand of Botticelli. A lady with a curious smirk +occupied the place of honour over the fireplace. When John asked +Marsh if it was his mother, the boy exclaimed sadly, "Alas, no!" and +going to the bookshelf read from a volume a long analysis of the +lady's smile written by a person called Pater in prose which, to +John, seemed a long time getting to the point. + +After the reading was finished and Marsh had pronounced it to be +"luscious," he invited them to sit down, which was singular, since it +was their study,--but he was a person who evidently took command. +Appreciating comfort, and a little proud of the envy their study +would arouse in others, they settled down amicably. + +At the end of the month, they were inseparable. The trio became +famous. Vernley was the athlete, Marsh the scholar, and John--that +amazing discovery was made by John almost by accident. It filled his +dreams for a whole term. + +It was in the school debating society that John made his great +discovery. Mr. Fletcher was in the chair. The meeting was in the +lecture theatre with its tiers of seats climbing up to the back +windows, in one of which John sat listening. There was a mock +government in office, trying to introduce a bill for compulsory +military training. The debate was opened by the captain of the +Officers' Training Corps, a man John disliked intensely, mainly +because he had prominent teeth that were not prolonged on parallel +lines. John had attended three meetings of the society, but had not +spoken. The small boys sat silent in the presence of the sixth form +gods. John would not have spoken on this occasion except for an +accident. He was sitting on the window seat, jammed in between two +other boys, who, in the course of an attack upon each other's head, +ejected John from his position. He fell with an amazing noise on the +hollow boarding, and the Speaker, looking up, caught John's eye. The +boy had no intention of speaking but Mr. Fletcher evidently +misconstrued his action, and very kindly paused to give John his +opportunity. So there was nothing else for him to do but to open his +mouth. He stammered for half a minute, uttered a witticism and +provoked a laugh, which encouraged him to proceed to a superb piece +of youthful cynicism. The house gasped, but liked the sensation; the +leader of the debate sat amazed at the junior's audacity. + +But John had tasted blood. He felt the flattery of the attention he +was commanding. He grew bolder. A few of Marsh's grandiloquent +phrases came into his head, odd readings from those leather-bound +books pointed his arguments gracefully, his ear for a choice phrase +kept his listeners intent. At the end of ten minutes John sat down +abruptly. There was a great silence. He had made a fool of himself, +he thought, and was blushing with shame when the tide of applause +caught him. It seemed to rock the theatre. He was being applauded, +the whole theatre was applauding him! He was no longer a nonentity, +but somebody! It dazed him a little. For the next half hour he +heard his name mentioned in the debate. When they all trooped out of +the theatre, he was smiled at, and patted on the back. The crowning +moment came when Mr. Fletcher looked at him closely through his +spectacles and said-- + +"I hardly like to approve of your audacity, Dean, but I am pleased +that my house has such an eloquent representative. I'm afraid the +bitterness of your spirit suggests a misspent youth and the +convictions of a Labour leader." And with a good-natured smile, in +which John detected whole-hearted approval, Fletcher passed on. + +A fortnight later, John was the leader of the Opposition. It was an +unheard-of thing for a junior boy to sit on the front bench, but John +had broken all traditions. He was aided by Marsh who loved to be +diplomatic. Marsh carried on an insidious campaign against all who +opposed John's nomination. He held tea-parties at which he collected +his forces. He despatched his lieutenants to the fields, the five +courts, the common room, the quadrangles, the armoury and the tuck +shop. Vernley brought round the athletic vote--"the blockhead +squirearchy," Marsh called it, and the fifth and sixth form 'bloods' +were bribed by the thoughtful loan of French novels. + +"Scissors," announced March on the momentous day of the election, +"you should be eternally grateful to the French scribes. Anatole +France, Flaubert, Maupassant and Daudet--these have won the day. +Thanks to the lasciviousness of Madame Bovary and the voluptuousness +of Sappho, the full-blooded gods of Upper School will nod in your +favour. I have seduced them with questionable literature. I have +undermined their morals and pandered to their secret viciousness. In +grateful recollection of the delicious nights I have given them, they +are your henchmen to-day. I have suffered in the cause. This +morning, the Censor, in the heavy shape of Fletcher, produced his +warrant and searched my shelves. His disgusting taste has been +satiated. Look--'A Rebours,' 'Thaïs' and 'Sappho' have been +abducted. Those bleeding gaps are the memorials of my enthusiasm in +the cause. In your hours of triumph, O Scissors, forget not the hand +that raised you to your dizzy eminence. Let me whisper in your ear, +and remind you, as the Cæsars of old, of the fickleness of Fate." + +"Shut up, you ass," exclaimed Vernley. "Scissors'll romp in. I've +exhausted the bank in buns and lemonade, and have given away enough +cigarettes to smoke the enemy out." + +"We shall probably be unseated for corruption," said John. "Your +support, Marsh, is a questionable advantage." + +"That's the kind of rotten remark one expects from a politician. +You've a great political career in front of you, Scissors--you have +the necessary lack of gratitude and want of principle. Et tu, Brute! +O shades of the departed! Bovary, Thaïs and Sappho, behold the +ingratitude of this friend who wades to glory over your dead bodies! +Scissors, the first day you're in power you've got to abolish the +censorship. There shall be no peace in your Parliament until I can +read Wilde and Baudelaire in bed, without interruption or +confiscation." + + + +IV + +As anticipated, Scissors headed the poll, and henceforth he was +leader of the Opposition. The result was a high political fever. +Immediately after breakfast each morning, he rushed round to the +library and read through the newspapers. At first he modelled +himself upon Winston Churchill, to whom he was supposed to have some +facial likeness, but he found he had not the cool self-assumption of +his prototype. He found himself more akin to Lloyd George, that +Welsh lawyer whose name was as blasphemy to some and holy song to +others. The role suited John. He was a born iconoclast. He had the +Welshman's gift of stinging epithet, and he surprised himself with +the veneer of venom that added lustre to his sentences. He learnt +from his prototype the art of swift descent from Parnassus to +Limehouse; he punctuated his periods with cheers provoked from the +blubber-headed section of his audience; he knew the pathetic touch, +the 'lump-in-the-throat' moment, as he called it, and he used them +until his opponents were powerless to stem the avalanche of his +invective. + +All this alarmed Mr. Fletcher. He saw his house becoming +socialistic. The authority of the prefects was becoming undermined, +the junior boys no longer feared the Upper Remove. They frankly +stated their dislikes. In one debate they declared their hatred of +compulsory cricket with such vehemence that he had to move the +closure, whereupon John attacked him as a champion of tyranny, the +feeble upholder of bloated tradition. This so alarmed Fletcher that +he had a private interview with John, who suggested very skilfully +that his overture was a form of corruption. The fact was that John +was getting a swollen head. Marsh, whose hornet-like nature +delighted in the stinging of authority, encouraged John in his most +daring attacks. Vernley, lost in admiration at John's brilliance, +worshipped silently and approved without question. The other boys +followed in John's path, hardly realising the power of his leadership. + +The awakening came rapidly from an unseen quarter. It fell like a +thundercloud over the sunshine of John's triumph, and he resented his +defeat all the more because it was the hand of a friend who brought +him low, and his fall had no dignity. It was not intellectual. He +would have borne that. It was physical, and he felt sick with shame. +Inwardly he was conscious that he had provoked disaster, and most of +his anger fell upon himself for being such a fool and not realising +the need of tact. + +It happened one Wednesday half, towards the end of term. Lindon was +the instrument of Fate. John was fagging that day and had been told +to lay tea at four in Lindon's study. He had always been allowed +great liberty by his fagmaster and he took his own time to perform +his duties. John did not worry, therefore, when four o'clock struck +as he finished a game in the fives' courts. He leisurely walked +across to the bathroom, stripped and sat on the side of the bath, +whistling while the water ran in. As he waited for the bath to fill, +Marsh appeared through the steam. + +"London's been calling like blazes for you. He said he told you to +lay tea at four." + +"Let him call," said John, turning on the cold tap and hiding himself +in steam. + +"You'd better hurry up, Scissors--he's quite scrubby." + +John merely yelled as he plunged his leg into the hot water. He had +just nicely soaped himself from head to foot, and was working up a +white lather on his head, when he heard his name called, and looking +up saw London. + +"I asked you for tea at four," he said. + +John's face was covered with white soap, but he smiled sweetly. + +"I know, I'm coming when I've finished here." + +"Indeed!--get out!" + +"I say, Lindon, do be reasonable!" + +"I have been--too much so. Are you going to get out?" + +"No!" answered John, sullenly, rubbing his head. + +"Very well!" A moment later the door slammed. John lay back in the +bath. He had won. The warm water made him feel very comfortable. +He wondered if Lindon felt sick. While he was contemplating, Lindon +reappeared. He had a switch in his hand. The business took on a +serious aspect. + +"Are you coming out?" he asked severely. + +John pouted. "No!" he said obstinately. + +Lindon immediately pulled out the plug and turned on the cold water +tap. John sat still, getting colder every second. Soon he was +shivering. At last he had to stand up, and the moment he did so, +Lindon's switch whistled through the air and left a red weal across +John's thigh. Involuntarily he yelled, then blazing with shame and +anger, he picked up the wet sponge and flung it full in Lindon's +face. The squelch ruined the prefect's neat collar and tie, but +Lindon only looked cooler, which frightened John. The next moment he +was lifted bodily out of the bath, and before he recovered from his +amazement at Lindon's strength, he was pinned head downwards over the +drying rack and being thrashed like a puppy. He screamed at the top +of his voice, not in pain but in anger. When he was released, he saw +three boys waiting in the doorway with towels. They had seen all, +and overcome with wounded vanity and misery, John fell in a heap on +the floor and cried. He lay there, moaning, and Lindon as he watched +him, relented. + +"Scissors," he said kindly, bending down. + +John looked at the face, and hated its strength. Madly, he struck +Lindon full in the face with all his might. The boys in the door +stood breathless at this act, watching. The elder boy was the most +amazed of all. For a moment he stared at John, with an angry red +mark under his right eye. Suddenly turning, he strode out of the +room. + +Utterly miserable and smarting, John dressed himself. He had acted +like a little cad and Lindon would be quite just in refusing to +accept his apology. He was miserable, not because he feared the +consequences of this act, serious as they were, but he had lowered +himself in the eyes of one whom he admired. Nothing could hurt him +so much as that Lindon should hold him in contempt. He hurried along +to the study, tapped and entered. Lindon sat in a wicker chair with +his back to John, talking to three other fellows. They had finished +tea. John hesitated, he had expected to find him alone, and his +courage failed. + +"I came to lay tea," he said feebly. + +"We've had it," replied Lindon without turning his head. John paused +awkwardly; there seemed no more to say so he went out of the room +quietly. All the evening he hung about miserably. Marsh tried to +cheer him up with witticisms about his being honoured with the +disorder of the bath. Vernley quite bluntly told him that he had +acted like a cad, which John knew very well. So he quarrelled with +them both, and was glad when it was bed time. But in bed he could +not sleep. He longed for the morning and the opportunity of +apologising. Finally he buried his head under the sheets, and in +sheer wretchedness cried himself to sleep. + +The next morning, immediately after prayers, he went round to +Lindon's study. There was no one there, so he sat down and waited. +After ten minutes, as the bell rang for morning school, Staveley +looked in for a book he had lent. + +"Hullo!" he said. + +"Do you know where Lindon is?" asked John. + +"Yes--in the 'San.' He won't be here again I expect this term. He's +suspect--chicken pox. Seven of Field House are down. You'd better +cut, that's second bell." + +When the end of term came, a fortnight later, Lindon had not +reappeared. John went across to the Sanitorium and learned that he +was convalescent, but could not be seen. Yet he knew Staveley had +visited him. It was obvious he did not wish to see John. So ended a +wretched term. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +John had been invited to spend the first half of his Easter holidays +at Marsh's. The second half was to be taken with the Vernleys. John +wondered whether his acceptance of Marsh's invitation would hurt +Vernley, but Marsh included Bobbie in the invitation. Vernley, +however, was unable to accept; he was spending part of his time with +an aunt in the north of Scotland. So they parted at Sedley Station, +and two hours later John was being driven in from Loughboro towards +Marsh's home. The gardener with a trap had met the boys at the +station and they had about an hour's drive before they turned off the +main road which intersected the village of Renstone. On the right +was the Vicarage, standing back from the little street; on the left, +across the road, stood the church, with its square tower, and near +by, the Hall. Marsh's father was the Vicar of Renstone and Marsh had +been born in the Vicarage. As the trap turned off the street, they +entered through two wide gates which completely shut off the Vicarage +from the village. Inside the gates there was a small courtyard, in +the centre of which stood a great holly bush. The yard was closed in +by the back of the house and in the middle was the main entrance +porch with a wing of the domestic building. When John entered the +porch and the door opened, he gave a cry of delight. He looked right +through a small hall on the opposite side where wide low windows with +small leaded panes overlooked two long lawns. A gravel path led down +the centre to a line of magnificent elms that bordered the far edge +of the garden, and through the elms John caught a vista of the +country with the white main road, along which they had come, +stretching away to the horizon. + +John's admiration of the Vicarage was cut short by the entrance of a +lady. She wore a large straw hat, and a pair of washleather gloves. +In her hand was a basket full of clippings. She placed the basket on +the settee and coming forward kissed Marsh, then turning to the boy +standing shyly in the shadow of the door, said, + +"This is John--of whom I have heard so much? How d'you do? We are +so glad to see you." + +After his momentary shyness, John found himself looking into the face +of a fair little woman with kind eyes. She also examined John +closely, noticed the shy flush on his face, the darkness of his eyes +and the slim grace of his regular features and carriage. They +immediately liked one another. John was at home again. She was one +of those women who are mothers to whatever humanity seeks their love. +So John looked long at her and knew that he had found a friend. He +contrasted her with Mrs. Vernley, whom he also liked. But Mrs. +Vernley was a woman of the world, determined, a lover of fashion. +Mrs. Marsh was quite of a different order. John felt she was one who +would understand sympathetically when others would judge harshly. +She was the kind of woman to whom he would rather come if he had a +confession to make. + +He noticed how very frail she was, almost like a saint who had +fasted. Her white hair, loosely fastened, seemed as a halo while she +stood there in the dim hall with the sunlight behind rimming her head +with light. Her hand was so thin that John could feel all the bones +in it and her flesh was almost transparent. + +Meanwhile Marsh had superintended their boxes. + +"Come up to our room, Scissors!" he cried, and John followed him up +an old oak staircase, along a narrow corridor that ran the whole +length of the house, overlooking the courtyard on one side. Their +room was at the end, and the beauty of it made John's heart leap up. +It had two low casement windows, bordered with creeper drooping to +the lawns below. Their two beds faced the windows; the dressing +table, mantelpiece and writing desk were decorated with fresh bunches +of violets. The perfume pervaded the room and mingled with the +delightful smell of clean linen, which John had come to distinguish +as a 'country house smell.' + +"What a jolly room!" cried John. + +Marsh seemed pleased at his approbation. "Not a bit like a parson's +hole, is it?" he commented. "This room is modern--that's a copy of a +Cezanne; that's a real Pizarro--you won't find on these walls any +woolly legend 'God is Love,' or a dead aunt's knitting in five +colours--'Blessed are the meek.' I ejected all those long ago." + +"But what does your governor say?" + +"Nothing--he merely smiles. I am the cuckoo's egg in the family +nest." + +John was a little shocked. He felt uneasy when Marsh talked in this +strain. It was not that Marsh wanted to shock, but John was in an +alien country, which his friend evidently knew well. Every day John +was discovering some thing new about himself until his mind was in a +condition of fear. Marsh was so splendidly cool about everything. +When John asked him questions, he showed no surprise, or superiority, +but explained and amplified from familiarity with his theme. Marsh +dismissed certain things as "rotten," others he characterised as +"smuggy." John always had a feeling that Marsh knew much more than +he said. His knowledge of books, for instance, was extraordinary. +John was discovering new books every day of his life, but he no +sooner announced a fresh treasure than Marsh knew all about it, had +read it long ago and could supplement the knowledge with personal +information concerning the author and other books he had written. He +was at home in French literature or English, which John accounted for +later when he found that Mrs. Marsh had spent her youth in a French +convent school. This discovery was made at tea-time in the study, a +delightfully cosy room full of books and loose papers, and magazines, +with big chairs in which you sank low and all the cushions gradually +deflated as though the breath had been crushed out of them. Marsh +talked to his mother in French, greatly to John's admiration. + +"You mustn't mind Teddie talking French to me," said Mrs. Marsh, as +she handed him a tea cup. "He thinks it is such a treat for me, as +indeed it is, and Teddie is greatly afraid that I might forget how to +speak French." + +"I wish I could follow it all, Mrs. Marsh--you speak French so +frenchily," said John, munching toast. He loved her already; there +was something so comfortable about her. + +"Well, you see I was sent to a French school when quite a little girl. + +"Jolly good thing for me, Mater, wasn't it?" cried Marsh, linking his +arm through his mother's. + +"Why, dear?" + +"'Cause I shouldn't have been here if you hadn't fallen in love with +a red-haired young curate on a walking tour through Provence!" + +Mrs. Marsh laughed. + +"You naughty boy--what would your father say if he knew you called +him a red-haired curate--his hair was golden then." + +"That's the usual story--if a man has red hair they say it's golden; +if a girl, they call it auburn." + +"My mother had au-red hair," said John flushing. Mrs. Marsh looked +quickly at the boy at her side, mingling her love with admiration of +his courage. + +"Sorry, Scissors--but it can't have been red, for you haven't a +freckle. He's jolly good-looking, isn't he, Mother?" + +John coloured; further confusion was checked by the abrupt opening of +the door. A clerical collar told him that it was Mr. Marsh. After +the formal introduction John was able to study the Reverend George +Marsh while the latter questioned his son. + +He was a tall man of striking appearance. His hair, although almost +white, was thick, and a great wave of it lay over his brow. He had a +tanned healthy face and laughing eyes. A smile was never long absent +from his face, which was handsome in a broad-featured way. John +noticed how large and strong were his hands. He had been a great +cricketer in his day, and the athlete still lingered in his frame. +He would have been recognised as an English country gentleman in any +community, and his geniality was blended with an exquisite courtesy. +Of the parson there was not a trace, and when afterwards he appeared +without a clerical collar, there was no indication whatever that he +was anything but a full-blooded English gentleman fond of his horse +and his pipe. + +He was at least ten years older than his wife, whom he called the +"Skipper," greatly surprising and afterwards amusing John. He +evidently troubled himself about nothing. If Marsh wanted anything, +he was always told by the Vicar, "Ask the Skipper," or "Does the +Skipper know?" On Saturday afternoon there was what Marsh assured +John was the weekly tragi-comedy. He confessed he had not composed +his sermon for the following day, and, like a penitent boy, was +locked in his study with the threat that he should have no dinner +until the sermon was completed. He must have been either a man of +quick inspiration or short patience, for half an hour later as John +walked by the study window he saw the vicar, pipe in mouth, stretched +in his wicker chair, reading the _Nation_ which he waved joyously at +John as though to say, "See! I defy the Skipper!" + +Later, John discovered that the Vicar was a rebel at heart. He read +the _Nation_ religiously, and had an intense enthusiasm for the +Chancellor of the Exchequer, who was saying rude things about persons +who kept pheasants, greatly to the vicar's delight, who knew how +angry it would make the new tenant of Renstone Hall, who stood for +King, the Conservative party, a covert full of pheasants and a house +full of servants. Teddie, partly from perversity, and partly because +he felt the lordship of youth, was a conservative, like his mother, +and they had fierce arguments, in which the Vicar bravely kept his +flag flying, despite assaults on either flank. + +John's sympathies were with the Vicar. The Chancellor had the gift +of phrase and epithet which he admired, and had also excelled in. He +supported him therefore because that politician's brilliance +delighted him. The Vicar was delighted. He ragged Teddie +unmercifully, and commented gaily on the pleasure he derived from +seeing that the new race at Sedley was enlightened, a playful thrust +at his son's assumption of seniority in his attitude towards John in +political discussions. John loved those tea-times when argument grew +merry. It was all so good-humoured, the Vicar bantering his son and +wife with great joy, they in their turn exposing his "democracy" by +stories of a "brother" of the soil who had imposed upon him again and +again. + +John loved these debates. He felt he was one of the family, and +after the bleakness of schooldays this comfort and intimacy were +something to be treasured. His admiration of Mrs. Marsh grew daily. +She was so clever that John no longer wondered at Teddie's amazing +ability in all things. She could paint well, and had read deeply and +widely; was an authority on Bartolozzi engravings and made beautiful +jewellery as a hobby. In the evenings after dinner, they always had +an hour's music in the drawing-room--an unique apartment decorated in +black and white, with silver fittings and massive candelabra, holding +twenty candles--"with enough dripping to make saute potatoes," +commented Teddie. The corner of the drawing room was filled by a +superbly-toned Beckstein grand, which Mrs. Marsh played with +consummate skill. + +She had studied at Vienna under Leschetiscky and her interpretation +of Liszt and Brahms held John spellbound. Her rendering was quite +unlike Lindon's. He played _con fuoco_. She caressed the piano so +that it sang as though its heart was filled with grief. When she +played Debussy and Ravel, it was as though the wind were making the +aspens shake and glimmer in the sunlight. There was a series of +delicate currents of sound which followed one another like the +reflections of rippling water on the sides of a boat, and one floated +down the stream with all the senses quiescent yet acute. + +When the music ended and it was time for bed, for they retired early, +there was the ceremony of blowing out the candles. Mrs. Marsh, +Teddie and John joined hands round the candelabra and a fierce +competition ensued. In the small hall they parted. The Vicar went +off to his study, where he sat reading until one or two in the +morning. His lamp threw a long strip of light across the lawn long +after the boys had fallen asleep. On the first night, after Mrs. +Marsh had kissed her son on the brow and said "Good night," she +turned and half held out her hand to John, then with one of those +sudden impulses, which endeared her to him, she asked, + +"I wonder if my new boy is too big?" and smiling, she pressed John's +head towards her and kissed him on the brow, then turned and went +upstairs. John stood still for half a minute. He hoped the light +was too dim for his friend to see, for his eyes were blurred. It was +silly to be so frightfully sensitive, but kindness like this always +upset him. It increased his sense of loneliness and loss and yet it +made him happier. + +Upstairs in their bedroom, John threw open a window and leaned out +into the night. The air was warm, and a full moon hung low over the +elm trees at the bottom of the garden, throwing their long shadows +across the lawns. The distant woods, black and distinct, were +silhouetted on the hills; there was a great silence over everything. +The moon would look just like that peering over the gorge at Amasia. +He wondered what his father was doing at that moment, and whether he +knew how happy he was. Probably he was smoking his last cigarette on +the verandah, watching the stream as it ran and flashed along its +stony bed; perhaps the night was not silent like this, but full of +the droning of the _saz_. And Ali?--he would be fast asleep, tired +after a long day in the sun. Dear old Ali, how he longed to have him +with him, to show him this wonderful English house, and have him hear +Teddie talk--how he would stare at Teddie! + +"I say, Scissors, how long are you going to hang out of that window?" +It was Marsh, tooth-brush in hand, already in his pyjamas. "I'll bet +I know your thoughts." + +"You don't." + +"I do--you're thinking about another place the moon hangs over and +what everybody's doing there." + +"How did you know?" + +Marsh laughed delightedly at the confirmation of his guess. +"Easy--when you turned just now you'd got the East in your eyes." + +"The East--what do you mean?" + +"Well, you look a bit Eastern at times. I thought so the first time +I saw you, but you looked very much so just now, just as I imagine +Lindon saw you." + +"Lindon--" John gulped at the name--"saw me? What did he tell you?" + +"Oh, he was telling us one day how you fainted when he played the +_Drum Polonaise_--and how queer you looked at him just before you +went. By the way, I don't think I ever told you Lindon lives near +here." + + +The days slipped by at the Vicarage. Indeed, there was so little to +do and yet they were so industriously idle that the day was over +before all that was planned had been accomplished. John had been at +the Vicarage just a week, when, one sunshiny Saturday morning, the +trap came round to the door, with its well-groomed pony and shining +harness, at which Marsh had laboured for an hour the previous evening +with a bottle of polish--and the promise of half a crown. Mrs. Marsh +and John and Teddie got in, the latter taking the reins, and they +clattered merrily out of the courtyard, down the village street, +where the little boys gaped, and the women in the doors curtseyed, +out on to the highway stretching away beneath an avenue of +over-reaching elms. They were bound for the market town of +Loughboro, on a shopping expedition. + +"There's nothing worth buying there," said Marsh, "which is the +reason for the Mater's regular visit. She drags me round in the trap +while she looks in every window. There's nothing to see and less to +do." + +"There's the Theatre, dear." + +"What a show! 'East Lynne' by the celebrated London company or 'The +Girl at the Cross Roads' preceded by the one act comedy, 'Sarah in +the Soup.'" + +"You should not run the place down--you will spoil John's +anticipations." + +They passed a couple of ragged men, bronzed and unshaven, who stood +still while the trap passed. + +"That's the ideal life," exclaimed Marsh, flicking the pony. +"Nothing to do and no desire to do it. They remind me of Davies' +lines--he was a tramp too-- + + _What is this life if full of care + We have no time to stand and stare?_ + +This road's punctuated with these leisured gentlemen--that's another +attraction of Loughboro--there's a fine workhouse. The Governor goes +to preach there once a month, and always comes away regretting he's +not an inmate--it fits in with his idea of the democratic communal +life. But he always drinks sherry when he gets home--to kill the +taste I suppose." + +There were now signs of the approaching town. Cottages became more +frequent, and then villas, pathetically attempting to keep on good +relations with the country by burdening their windows with flower +boxes and their square little front gardens with shrubs. Two +gasometers loomed up in the distance, long monotonous buildings with +tall chimneys suggesting some kind of industry. Then with a turn, +they were trotting down the streets of the town itself. They pulled +up under the Town Hall clock which projected itself over a market +place greatly animated with booths and wandering groups of buyers, +gossipers and gapers. Mrs. Marsh disappeared in a chemist's shop, +where she exchanged her library books, and presently she emerged +laden with three novels, the _English Review_, the _Nineteenth +Century_ and _The Tatler_. These were deposited in the trap, +whereupon she walked on again and disappeared in a dairy shop. Marsh +flicked the pony and the trap jogged on, halting again outside the +shop. + +"This is how we progress on a shopping expedition. I follow the +mater all round the market place while everybody comes to the shop +doors, stares at me, asks, 'Do you know who that is?' until a +wiseacre says, 'That's the parson's son--him what preaches at the +workhouse.' Last summer I came down here in shorts and socks and the +sight paralysed the market place; they had never seen so much male +leg before. I shall bring my 'topper' home next term. It'll have a +raging success." + +For three quarters of an hour they slowly worked round the sides of +the market place, while the trap got fuller and fuller and Mrs. Marsh +redder and redder. John was busy carrying parcels from the shop to +the trap. + +"Thank heaven a market square has only four sides!" cried Marsh, as +John deposited a two gallon jar of cider in the well of the trap. + +"There's more to follow!" cried Scissors, darting back to the shop. +He emerged a few minutes later, his arms full of small parcels with +Mrs. Marsh following behind. He was so intent upon balancing his +precariously held pile that he did not notice a youth and a girl who +stood aside to let them pass, but as he turned to hand the things to +Marsh he caught a glimpse and his heart gave a great thump as he +coloured in confusion. Marsh noticed John's sudden uneasiness and +turned in his seat. + +"Lindon!" he cried. "What luck--how are you?" + +It was Lindon--cool, immaculate. He raised his to Mrs. Marsh, with +the alert manner that distinguished him. The girl at his side was +obviously his sister. She had the same straight nose and keen eyes. +Her fresh beauty made John stare at her. All that fascinated him in +Lindon was there with the added grace of girlhood. + +"Good morning, Mr. Lindon--good morning, Miss Lindon. You are +shopping too, I suppose," said Mrs. Marsh genially; then noticing +John nervously drawing back--"You know John, I think?" + +"Rather," interrupted Marsh. "John's his fag." + +Lindon laughed. "I'm afraid he knows me only too well." He turned +to his sister. "This is Scissors--John Dean, Mabel." John raised +his cap and took the proffered hand. + +"How d'you do," she asked, "I've heard so much of you from Henry." + +Then Lindon had spoken of him!--he had called him Scissors! A +hundred thoughts raced through John's head. Had he forgiven--or was +this mere politeness? He had talked about him to his sister, but +perhaps that was before this miserable affair happened. He must +speak to Lindon somehow before they parted, and say how sorry he was. +The eye, he was relieved to see, showed no signs of his attack. In +his imagination he had come to think of it as quite closed up. + +Mabel Lindon looked at the boy who stood so silent before her. +Possibly he was tongued-tied, certainly he was flushed, or was it his +colour? He was very attractive, she thought, and his embarrassment +flattered her. + +"Will you not come over to see us?" she asked him. John was in a +dilemma. Lindon was busily talking to Marsh and his mother, he had +not heard the invitation. John waited, hoping he would hear and +re-inforce it. + +"I'm leaving here on Tuesday--so I'm sorry I shall be unable, thank +you." + +"Oh, that is a pity, for we are leaving next month, we are going to +live in Worcestershire, and it is a shame, for we have such a +wonderful garden and pond--you would love it." + +"I'm sure I should." + +They were saying good-bye now. He shook hands with Miss Lindon. +Mrs. Marsh had got into the trap. John was about to follow, when +Lindon spoke. + +"Having a good time, Scissors?" he asked, in a friendly voice. John +stammered with joy and relief. It was _Pax_. + +"Awfully, thanks Lindon," he muttered. The reins had been jerked, +the trap began to move. Miss Lindon walked on. Lindon raised his +cap. "Good-bye!" he called to them. It was now or never. + +"Please Lindon--I--I'm awfully sorry I was such a cad to you--and +will you forgive me? I--I--" + +"That's all right, Scissors," said Lindon, shaking John's hand. "I +like fire in a kid. Are you coming over to see us?" he asked. + +"I'm sorry I can't---I go on Tuesday--" + +"Well--you must come to stay next hols. Good-bye!" and with a smile +he was gone. All John's hero worship swelled up within him. How +splendidly Lindon had dismissed the beastly affair! John hurried +after the trap and clambered in. Marsh smiled at him with perfect +understanding, and John felt how good was life. All the way back to +the Vicarage his heart was singing within him. At the Vicarage door, +as he carried in the parcels, he could not help whistling. Marsh +took his arm. + +"That storm over?" he asked, sympathetically. + +John could not answer, but he nodded. They walked into the house. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +I + +The following Tuesday John said good-bye to the Marshs and left for +"The Croft" to spend the remainder of his Easter holidays with the +Vernleys. Mrs. Marsh and Teddie drove him to the station, and, as +the train left and he leaned out of the window to wave farewell, he +knew that once more he had found true friends and a house where his +return would be welcome. At dusk he had arrived in the village +station nearest to "The Croft," where he found Bobbie and his brother +Tod waiting for him on the platform. + +"Hello, Scissors!" shouted Tod, as the train drew in, "We've a +surprise for you. Where's the luggage--give me that, I'll carry it." + +"How's the great Marsh?" asked Vernley. "As supercilious as ever?" + +"Yes--in great form, he sends his love and recommends Mother +Wingate's syrup for fatuous persons," answered John. + +"Cheek!" retorted Vernley, "and by Jove--don't you think I'm getting +thin--Tod's had me out on the under track every morning at six. I'm +going to pull off the 'half' and mile race next term." + +John looked at him critically, and although Vernley was as +delightfully substantial as ever, he had not the heart to disappoint +him. + +"He's wasting away like our Narcissus," said Tod, banging his way +through the narrow booking hall. "Look, my son, isn't she a beauty!" + +He pointed to a racing car drawn up outside the station. John +noticed its long rectangular bonnet, the beautiful gleam and hidden +strength of the thing, admiration showing in his eyes. + +"It's mine!--the Governor's twenty-first birthday present! She was +first in the trials at Brooklands last week," said Tod, dropping the +bag in. + +"We're going on a tour next hols--all round this giddy old island," +cried Vernley. "There'll be a fringe of dead dogs and defunct old +ladies around these shores, that never did and never will stand under +the foot of the--how's the thing go?" + +"--proud conqueror," added John. "She is a lovely thing--what's her +name?" + +"Haven't decided yet. I've voted for the 'Silver Slayer.' Tod +suggests 'The Gleam.'" + +"The Governor says '[OE]dipus Rex' would be more appropriate," added +Tod, his brown hands on the steering wheel. + +"Why?" + +"Because of the murders at the cross roads that'll be committed. +Ready?" + +There was a preparatory purr of the engine, then a delightful roaring +hum, and they glided forwards, imperceptibly gathering speed. The +chill wind whipped John's face. He looked joyously at Vernley seated +beside him and noted the disdainful pose of lordship. Vernley's +utter contempt for a display of feeling always amused John. The +villages tore by, fowls screeched, and flew with fluttered feathers +into the hedge bottoms; they roared up the hills and ran silently +down into the valleys. Half an hour later they had turned in at the +familiar drive and, pulled up at the stone porch. Inside the hall +Mrs. Vernley came to meet John. + +"Here you are at last--we are so glad to see you, John." + +"Thank you--it's good to be here, Mrs. Vernley." The dogs, as if +welcoming an old friend, bounded forwards. + +"Down, Tiger--down, Ruff--down, sir!" yelled Vernley, and they +cowered and wagged their tails, beating a tattoo on the parquet floor. + +In the library, gleaming with a rosy fire, its light shining on the +silver tea service, John found Mr. Vernley. + +"Hullo, my boy! well, how are you? I hear we've found a great orator +at last!" + +John smiled, then halted as he saw some one standing at Mr. Vernley's +side. + +"Ribble," said Vernley turning to him, "this is our rising hope." +Then to John, "This is Mr. Ribble--you'll be great friends I'm sure, +though I don't know which side of him you'll like the better. Mr. +Ribble has written some very clever books, and he's in the Cabinet, +so that politicians say he's a good author and a bad politician, and +authors say he's a good politician and a bad author." + +"And my wife says I should have been a nonconformist divine. How +d'you do, John; we must hear some of these famous flights of oratory." + +"He's the real stuff, sir," said Vernley enthusiastically.--"Doesn't +half work 'em, makes the 'gods' boil over!" + +"This empire, this realm upon which the sun has never looked--no, +that's not it, sir--I'm no orator," said Tod. "Let's have tea, +Mother. By Jove, Governor, you should have heard her sing up +Carshott Hill--did it on top, lots in hand. When she's tuned up +she'll take a houseside." + +"Lord! You've done nothing but tune up since you had her," cried +Bobbie. + +"Now boys, sit down, tea's ready," said Mrs. Vernley, pouring out. +John hoped every moment that Muriel would come in. He was +disappointed when she was not in the hall to meet him, and his heart +sank when he did not find her in the library. Perhaps she had gone +out for a walk. He did not want to ask, for Vernley might think he +had come simply to see her. It was not so, of course. He was glad +to be with Vernley again, but he could not help looking forward to +seeing Muriel, of whom he had been thinking through all those weeks +at school. The talk at the tea-table was chiefly political. Mr. +Vernley was discussing a coming election with Ribble, whom John +thought was the most picturesque old man he had ever seen. He had +long curly white hair, his eyes were surrounded by good-humoured +wrinkles, and he beamed through his spectacles. The mouth was thin +and compressed and had a ghost of a smile always hovering about it +John wondered where he had seen such a face before, and then suddenly +remembered a portrait of Thackeray in Mr. Fletcher's study. There +was a slight resemblance, and Mr. Ribble's character seemed to John +to be somewhat Thackerayish, for John was now half through "The +Newcomes," after a delighted discovery of "Pendennis" and "Henry +Esmond." + +"Steer has just published a fine book," Mr. Ribble was saying. "I +think that little poem on Muriel is masterly." + +John was alert immediately, and Vernley, eating cake and drinking tea +at the same moment, contrary to all laws, noticed John's interest. + +"When's Muriel coming home, Mother?" he asked. + +"I read you her letter this morning--to-morrow. You'll have to drive +the trap to the station to meet her in the afternoon." + +"Why can't we motor?" + +"I'm going to Brooklands in the morning," said Tod, "and I'm taking +Brown--so you'll have to drive the buggy." + +"Oh, bother--I hate the old thing!" + +But John would have ridden to Paradise in it if such a passenger as +Muriel had awaited him. To-morrow! He looked at Vernley, and it +occurred to him that his question had been what Mr. Fletcher, in +debates, had called a leading one. Vernley had never shown much +interest in John's affair, but he was not so unobservant as the +latter thought. + +When the boys were changing for dinner that evening, and while John +was struggling with a bow, his glance fell upon a silver frame +standing on the dressing table. It contained a beautiful portrait of +Muriel who laughed at him out of the frame. John looked long at it, +and finally he realised that the photograph had been placed there for +his delight. It was on his dressing table and not on Vernley's. +Only one person could have placed it there. + +"I say, Bobbie," said John, through the open door leading to his +friend's room. + +"What?" asked Vernley, standing with one leg in his black trousers, +the other kicking its way through. + +"You're a jolly decent sort--being here, you know--and in this room +again--and the--photograph--thanks awfully, old man." + +"Thought you were a bit keen, you know--she's not at all bad for a +sister, is she?" + +"Rather not!" said John ecstatically, giving his bow a confirmatory +pull. + + +That evening John knew Mr. Ribble much more intimately, for while one +of Vernley's sisters was accompanying the aspiring prima donna, John +was led off by the politician into the conservatory. The boy began +asking questions about the House of Commons and Mr. Ribble had a +great fund of stories. John learned of Mr. Balfour's aloof manner, +Mr. Churchill's imperturbable genius, Mr. Lloyd George's subtlety, +Mr. Asquith's classic weight and Sir Henry Campbell Bannerman's +personal charm; then he wished to know all about Mr. Austen +Chamberlain and the hereditary monocle, whether Mr. John Burn's +mother really had been a washerwoman, and what tactics were +legitimate in catching the Speaker's eye. Leaving these +personalities, the conversation changed to political economy and John +found himself on new ground and in a world of unknown names. + +John felt flattered by the fact that Mr. Ribble took it for granted +that he knew these persons and subjects, but the politician was +deliberately whetting the boy's appetite and trying to lead him into +a channel of serious study. John Stuart Mill, Walter Bagehot, Edmund +Burke, Karl Marx, together with such queer names as Spinoza, Kant, +Schlegel, Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, all rolled off Mr. Ribble's +tongue. He was now in the realm of Philosophy, and John, for the +first time in his life, heard of Comte and Positivism, of Darwin and +the Origin of Species, of Huxley and Russell Wallace. Mr. Ribble +talked and John listened, experiencing the wonderful thrill as when +Mr. Steer had shown him the world of poetry. + +"I think you had better start with Ruskin's 'Unto This Last,'" said +Mr. Ribble when John asked where he should begin. "He's easy to read +and somewhat superficial. You'll find that philosophy and political +economy are closely related--half brothers in fact, and Ruskin +believes their parents were Social Morality and Private Duty." + +Before going to bed that night, John had found a copy of "Unto This +Last" which he took up to bed. The two boys often read before going +to sleep, and Vernley was engrossed in "Kim" so that he did not see +what absorbed John, until growing sleepy, he closed his book and came +into John's room with its light still burning. + +"What are you reading?" he asked. + +"Ruskin," replied John, deep in the book. + +"Golly--what on earth are you reading that piffle for--what's the +book?" + +"Unto This Last." + +"Holy Moses--you're the queerest mixture I've ever known. Last hols +it was "Whose dwelling is--" + + --"_The light of setting suns_"--began John-- + "_And the round ocean and the living air, + And the blue sky and in the mind of man: + A motion and a spirit, that impels + All thinking things, all objects of all thought, + And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still + A lover of the meadows and the woods, + And mountains; and of all that--_" + + +A pillow landed on John's head. It was returned with redoubled +energy. Vernley made a grand attack, John defending with a bolster. +There was a frantic scuffle, the bed groaned, the electric light +swung furiously, Vernley's pyjama coat was torn down the back and +John was soon without a blanket or a sheet on his bed. Suddenly they +were buried in a snowstorm of feathers that floated all over the +room; the pillow case had split; it called for an armistice. John +and Vernley subsided on the bed, silently watching the feather-laden +atmosphere. + +"Lord! what a mess!" + +"We always seem to be smashing something in this room," said John +ruefully--"last time it was the wash basin." + +"It's that infernal Wordsworth--there'll be nothing left now Ruskin's +on the scene too." + +"Well--you shouldn't interrupt." + +"Do you think I'm going to lie still while you pour out that bosh?" + +"It isn't bosh--Mr. Ribble says--" + +"Ribble's an old fool--'a nonconformist crank swaddled in the +longclothes of infantile ignorance'--that's what the Governor's +opponent called him last election." + +The feathers had now settled. + +"What a mess!" said Vernley surveying the room. "I've got an idea! +Open the door, Scissors!" Vernley threw open the two big windows and +the draught thus created swept the feathers out on to the landing. +The two boys followed and peered over the banisters as the white +cloud slowly settled down into the hall below. At that moment the +drawing-room door opened. + +"Father!--Just look at this--wherever--" came Mrs. Vernley's voice in +amazement. + +"Shut the door, Scissors!" They rushed into the room, switched off +the light and waited breathlessly. All was quiet again. + +"If you go on reading every author you're told about, there'll be +nothing left in this house," said Vernley, "and I don't agree, of +course, about that libel on old Ribble--he's a decent old boy. Good +night, Scissors." + + + +II + +The next afternoon Vernley and John harnessed the pony and were on +their way to the station to meet Muriel. Spring was in the air. The +hedgerows were beginning to burst into leaf, and the birds singing in +the lanes filled the country-side with hope. John's heart too was +singing. It was so good to be driving through the sunlit lanes with +a crisp air blowing in their faces, the friendly jog-trot of the pony +beating upon their ears. He looked at Vernley, the imperturbable +Vernley, who was flicking the pony's haunches with his whip. There +was something comfortably solid about him. He represented tradition +and the continuance of a settled conception of life. John had no +difficulty in planning Vernley's future; unlike his own, it depended +upon no caprice of Fate. He would go up to Oxford, travel, and then +settle down to the life of a country gentleman. He would grow stout +and red-cheeked, marry a healthy, unimaginative wife and be the +father of a crowd of noisy, well-developed children. The hunt, a +seat on the bench, June in London and August on the moors--that would +be Vernley's life. And he would not bother his head about political +or religious faiths. He would probably be a Conservative, despite +his father, who was a family renegade, and a Churchman. +Conservative, because caution and security were better than haste and +revolution, and the world on the whole was a jolly old place despite +Socialists and other disgruntled reformers. A Churchman, because he +knew so little about religion, and a respectable ready-made creed, +tried and found suitable as an accommodating policy of living was the +safest and easiest to adopt. Had he been born in Constantinople he +would have been a Mohammedan, in Bombay a Buddhist, in Hongkong a +Confucian, and in Paris a Catholic. And whichever creed environment +had caused him to accept, he would have been a credit to it, +faithfully observing its tenets, a respectable, unthinking, +clean-living fellow. + + +Vernley looked at John as the station came into sight; the far-away +expression was in his face, a curious detachment that often puzzled +Vernley. Sometimes John seemed to have left his body in another +world. It was uncanny and he remembered that Marsh, referring to +this habit, had called it "the Eastern touch," though what that quite +meant Vernley did not know. + +"The train's signalled," said Vernley. "We shall just get there in +time. I wonder whether Muriel is bringing her friend back, she said +she might--a topping girl." + +"I hope not--I don't want any one monopolising Muriel," said John +boldly. + +"That's all right--I shall look after her friend--so don't you worry." + +They pulled up just as the train ran into the station. Vernley sat +still in the trap. + +"I must mind the pony,--you go in, Scissors!" + +Dear old Vernley, thought John, what a tactician he was! So leaping +out, he went on to the platform just as Muriel descended from the +carriage. There was one glad look of recognition and then a +momentary shyness fell over them. Muriel had brought her friend whom +she introduced with embarrassment. John, scarlet in the face, +pretended to be frantically busy with the luggage, which filled the +trap. Homewards turned, the pony trotted smartly. John sat opposite +Muriel and kept looking at her furtively. She was beautiful. He +wanted to touch her soft flesh, and press back the little strand of +hair that fluttered over her ear and across the cheek. He noticed +the full redness of her lips, and the wonderful beauty of her long +eyelashes. The sight of her filled John with a kind of ecstasy +bordering on intoxication. He was infinitely more in love with her +than on the previous occasion. The absence of three months had +glorified her in his imagination, but now he saw that reality +transcended his most extravagant dreams of her physical perfection. +He was fifteen and this first flush of love left him breathless with +wonder. He did not want to talk; it was enough to sit near her, to +hear her voice, to watch the elfin grace of her movements, to see her +eyes shine, and the whiteness of her small teeth when she laughed. +Had some one told him he was in love, he would have denied it. He +was more a worshipper than a lover. This revelation of the woman, as +he saw it in Muriel, was like sunrise on a new world; he was so lost +in wonder that familiarity became impossible. He was filled with +awe, in which ran fear, the fear that she could not always be there, +that one morning he would get up and find her changed, an ordinary +being, moving on the old earth as he had always known it. But this +afternoon was his time of ecstasy--the friendly trotting of the pony, +Bobbie talking away to Polly, and himself sitting there with Muriel +near him while the birds sang in the hedgerows, and the sunset clouds +in the west reddened behind a black fringe of trees. + +"Polly," said Vernley, "you may think so, but my friend is not really +dumb--in fact John is a fearful talker at times." + +He laughed at John. + +"You've got the field, so I've retired," retorted John. "And I'm +waiting for Muriel to tell me what she's been doing all the holidays." + +Muriel responded to this invitation, and, the ice broken, they were +soon engrossed in each other. At the top of Carshott Hill, Vernley +pulled up. He was enjoying himself with Polly, who was sensible, and +to his great relief didn't giggle. + +"I say, Scissors, shall we go round by Carshott? It is two miles out +of the way, but we shall be in time for dinner." + +"Oh yes," cried Muriel. "It's such a glorious afternoon." + +"I'm not a bit hungry," said John tactfully; any excuse for the +prolongation of the drive. So they turned off to Carshott. It was +dark when they arrived at "The Croft" gates and turned up the drive, +so dark that John had been able to hold Muriel's hand in his and +interlace his strong fingers with her slender ones, and he was so +overjoyed that he failed to notice that Vernley had done similarly. + +Greetings over in the hall, they hurried off to dress for dinner. +The boys had a hot bath, and John sat on the side while Vernley +lathered himself. + +"Polly's a very pretty girl," said John, rubbing hard with the towel. + +"Of course!" cried Vernley, banging the sponge on his head, then +spluttering, "and Muriel?---well I suppose you've hardly noticed her +yet," he added satirically--"it was so jolly dark--but I know she has +soft hands." + +John coloured, rubbing his head so that Vernley should not see. + +"I say, Scissors! I'll bet you I know what Muriel's going to wear +to-night." + +"What?" + +"That white dress with the blue insertion." + +John remembered it. It was all fluffy, and she looked like a fairy +in a cloud. He had admired her in it and told her so. + +"How do you know?" + +"Why, in honour of the occasion, of course. I called it the froth +and frolic dress, but probably Muriel calls it mode-a-la-Scissors." + +"You are an ass!" said John. + +"I am your friend," retorted Vernley. "By their companions ye shall +know them." + +"Are you coming out of that bath--the dressing bell went half an hour +ago!" + +"I'm getting boiled all over--I want to look my freshest to-night. +You are not the only knight on the war-path; and I've got a deadly +rival." + +"Who's that?" + +"Tod," said Vernley. "Personally I fear nothing from him--he's +harmless, but he's got a car, and that is usually a winner." + +"You are a cynic," said John. + +"I've had experience--I've been thrown over for a tennis racquet. +You don't know women, my boy." + +"Being elderly, I suppose you know all about them." + +"Almost, but there's one thing always puzzles me, Scissors, I always +wonder how much these girls confide in one another and giggle at us +for being such asses." + +"I don't think Muriel would," said John seriously. + +"Angel!" murmured Vernley, kissing the sponge ecstatically. + + + +III + +Mr. Ribble did not come down to breakfast the next morning. He was +reviewing a book for the _Nation_ and kept in his room. John saw +breakfast go in to him and wondered if ever the day would come that +he would be so important as to have breakfast sent up to his room. +He went to the window and sat there for a time enjoying the early +morning scene, the light on the distant hills, the sharp sound of a +passing cart down in the lane, and stray noises from the stable yard. +Then he watched the country postman cycle up the drive, his fresh +healthy face perspiring, a heavy mailbag on his shoulders. John got +up and went out into the hall and received the letters, which he +spread out on the table in neat order. There were fifteen for Mr. +Vernley, six for Mr. Ribble--John paused lovingly over these. How +splendid they looked! + + "The Rt. Hon. Ellerton Ribble, M.P." + +and as he looked the magic letters changed into-- + + "The Rt. Hon. John N. Dean, M.P." + +Day-dreaming he did not see that Mrs. Vernley had entered the hall +and was looking at him. + +"Disappointed, John?" she asked. "I am always disappointed when I +get no letters. I like receiving them, but detest answering them." + +"Good morning, Mrs. Vernley! No--I was just thinking how splendid +Mr. Ribble's address looks." + +"Wondering when your own will be like it?" asked Mrs. Vernley, +placing her hand on the boy's shoulder. She detected the pleasure +her little guess gave him. + +"Well, if Muriel has anything to do with it," she added, "you'll be +the youngest Cabinet minister in history." + +"Muriel?" asked John. + +"Yes, last night she gave Mr. Ribble the worst cross-questioning he +has had for many a long hour. I believe she has planned your whole +career, but I hope, John," said Mrs. Vernley, opening her letters, +"that you are not going to waste yourself in politics. It is the +most futile life a man can lead. I never knew a member of Parliament +who wasn't a harassed mass of vanity. Their lives are made wretched +by pulling wires for a thousand societies that threaten to extract a +dozen votes at their next election. They are the prey of the +parsons, charity organisations and vested interests--" + +"But surely Mr. Vernley--" began John. + +"One's husband is always excepted from general criticism, John. My +husband is such a bad member of Parliament because he is such a good +husband." + +"The world has to be ruled, Mrs. Vernley." + +"I do not deny it, but why presume that Parliament rules Britain? +I'm quite sure it doesn't, any more than Congress rules the United +States or the Chamber rules France. There's the gong. I wonder how +many of us will appear at breakfast!" + +In the breakfast room they found Tod and Muriel, and a minute later +Vernley came in and took his seat. + +"Let's see--this morning? Ah! it's plaice and sausage," he cried. +"Lift the covers, Mother." + +Sausage and plaice duly appeared. + +"We have a Scotch cook with the mind of a mathematician," said Tod. +"Wednesday, bacon and eggs." + +"Friday--kedgeree!" added Vernley. + +"Saturday--grilled ham!" supplemented Muriel. + +"Sunday--two eggs," contributed Alice. + +"Monday--" began Tod. + +He was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Vernley. + +"I suppose you children are reciting the food calendar as usual?" + +"Yes, Dad,--it's your turn," cried Vernley. "Monday--?" + +"Monday--liver and bacon!" + +"Really," commented Mrs. Vernley, "if cook heard the way you make fun +of her infinite variety--" + +"She might give us sausage twice a week which would please me!" said +Tod. "By the way, Mother, is Mrs. Graham coming to-day?" + +"Yes, I want you to meet the 11.15, she will arrive by that." + +"Let's all go!" cried Vernley. "Jove, she's a stunner, Scissors!" + +"Bobbie dear!" remonstrated Mrs. Vernley, "you mustn't talk of Mrs. +Graham like that!" + +"Why not, Mother? I told her she was a stunner once and she pinked +with delight." + +"I don't know where you boys pick up all your slang," said Mr. +Vernley. + +"We get so many M.P.s in the house, pater," suggested Tod. "Will you +play me a round of golf? I did four and seven in bogie yesterday." + +"When?" + +"This afternoon--three o'clock," said Tod. + +"Remember, dear, we have Mr. Crimp coming to tea," urged Mrs. Vernley. + +"Then I'll play you, Tod," Mr. Vernley said decisively. "My dear, +why do you ask that man?" + +"Because, being a tactful wife, I know he is worth two hundred votes +to you." + +"He turns my tea sour," complained Tod. "The pater and I will stay +out to tea." + +"That's not fair," cried Muriel. "It means I shall have to talk to +Mr. Crimp." + +"On foreign stamps," murmured Bobbie. "He'll love Scissors--don't +look so glum, Scissors--you look quite crimpled up!" + +Tod's aim was unerring; the tea cosy ruffled Vernley's well-plastered +hair. + +"Stop! I won't have my breakfast service smashed!" cried Mrs. +Vernley in alarm, but protest was useless. The cosy flew back with +redoubled vigour. Its flight was unimpeded by its destined +objective, for Tod ducked. It went over his head. Polly who had sat +very quiet all through breakfast, received it on her empty plate +where it ousted an egg cup with a clatter, and the familiar sound of +a crash followed as it broke into a dozen pieces. + +"You awful children!" cried Mrs. Vernley. + +"Never mind, Mum," said Tod, bending and kissing her. "You know +you're proud of your bouncing offspring." + + + +IV + +It was no exaggeration to say that the arrival of Mrs. Graham was an +event in John's life. Ever afterwards he could recall vividly the +first sharp impression of that bright Easter morning when he stood on +the country station platform. His impression was always clear, even +in its detail. Recalling her advent and attempting analysis, he was +never sure whether his first surprise was caused by beauty, by dress +or by aroma. There was something distinctive in the perfume Mrs. +Graham used. Only once afterwards did he encounter it, in the foyer +of a Paris theatre, when it brought back in swift vision the English +Easter morning, and the graceful lady extending her hand to him as he +stood, cap in hand, admiring every line of her figure. + +True, on the way to the station, above the purr of the car, he had +heard the ecstatic praise of Tod, and the no less fervent admiration +of Bobbie. But their tribute, faithful and generous, omitted the +something that caught John in the mesh. Was it her voice, so rich +with its quality, a speaking voice that gave such distinction to all +she said, that made a trivial comment noteworthy? Was it her +beauty?--that Romney-like picture of colour and contour, the shapely +nose, the lovely arched lips, the delicate rose-bloom of her cheeks +and the dark, quick vivacity of her eyes? Or was it her ornaments, +the grace and style of their choice and use? No earrings ever hung +like hers; they seemed to gather beauty from the lobes they +decorated. The string of pearls that nestled about her throat, +shapely as a swan's neck, in its sheen seemed to derive lustre from +the sweetness of her flesh. Was it those all-expressive hands, that +tapered so fascinatingly with nails that exhibited the charm of +nature and art? Something perhaps of all these, yet something which, +without all these, would make her a woman of memorable beauty. + +Her dress was elegant, noteworthy, but women had dressed so a hundred +times and achieved nothing distinctive. John had seen features as +perfect, hands as lovely--but here was something not wholly +extraneous. He knew now why she was always called, "the beautiful +Mrs. Graham"; why, to this woman of thirty-five, clung the air of a +tragedy queen; why, since that dread period of newspaper notoriety, +she had never been allowed to relapse into obscurity, but was +photographed and paragraphed. Would her sin ever find full expiation? + +Sin! How absurd that word seemed. Was there such a thing in the +presence of such perfection? John gazed at her as she sat at his +side in the car, talking to Bobbie, while Tod drove. She was alluded +to as a "notorious" woman, and as John thought of it, he almost +laughed aloud; what chance had all the dull, dingy, respectable women +at the side of this empress of life? John, of course, did not know +the details of the divorce case which had made her, for six weeks, +the most discussed woman in the world. The young peer who had ruined +his life and hers, and who, strangely enough, had found all the +sympathy while she took all the blame, who had declared himself +powerless in her presence. Perhaps so, but if so, why so +contemptible in that power, why the ready surrender of her character, +the confession of impotence? She was unfaithful, a married +experienced woman of thirty-five, and he a young boy of twenty-one. +But whose was the sacrifice? She should have known better, said the +world, she corrupted a boy. But if his was the ardour, if the +passion of first love and the lyrical song of youth were laid at her +feet, how could she resist, she a grown woman, who saw youth lapsing +like a spent wave on the shore of Life, one whose elderly husband +could not guess the tumult of nature beating at the doors of her +heart, about to close on summer for ever? + +Seven hundred years ago, such love was romance; not even the dagger +of Giovanni had been needed to draw, with its blood, the tears and +sympathy of lovers of all ages for Paolo and Francesca. But +Francesca in the twentieth century must stand in the witness box for +legal luminaries to torture, must hear every nameless act given the +label of lust, and finally, hear Paolo fling the insult of age and +cunning into her face, and plead the ignorance of youth. + +And then, when the whole dreadful nightmare was over, another +reappearance in a hopeless battle for her child; then peace again, +while the world whispers of the disappearance from society of the +beautiful Mrs. Graham. But Life would not leave her alone; five +years might have brought some healing to a heart that asked +forgetfulness. The suicide of the young Earl, with a last love +declaration, set the world by the ears again. So he loved her to the +last! She laughed almost. He had died for his love of her, said the +world. Women envied her the compliment of his suicide. He might +have loved her sufficiently to live, she reflected, and once more +passed through a nightmare of picture papers; herself as a bride, +bathing at Ostend; herself in the box; extracts from the trial; her +tears in the last scene, then--God in heaven!--her boy at school, not +in the first school he had had to leave, but another, which he would +now have to leave. And through it all, as if to excite envy and +scandal by obstinacy, her beauty grew, and she remained "the +beautiful Mrs. Graham." + +But it was not an aura of tragedy that fascinated John. He had not +exchanged a dozen words when he recognised what he had heard, with +mirth, the school porter call "quality." In the first place her +voice--that was a revelation. What a wonderful instrument the human +voice was! When she spoke her words were invested with alluring +music; then also there was a hint of--no, not worldliness--of-- + +"Bond Street, Rumpelmeyer's--cum Papier Poudre," supplied Tod a few +days later, alluding to the same hint. She was one of those women of +whom one asked inwardly--was that rouge, was that carmine, did she +pencil? and you were never sure. If so, it was wonderfully done and +fascinating. If not, she was amazingly perfect and unbelievable. +But you never knew for sure. Of her powder, she made no secret. No +beautiful woman ever does, for it is an embroidery which beauty only +can justify. + +And as John sat there he experienced a cheap sensation. That it was +cheap he knew, and despised himself for it. She was a divorced +woman--notorious even. Were not the Vernleys bold? Then a hot flush +of shame leapt to his face at the meanness of the thought--he was +like the rest. + +His sudden colouring was noticed by Mrs. Graham, who, unaware of its +cause, thought the handsome lad at her side was shy. She began to +talk to him and by the time they reached "The Croft," she had made a +fervent disciple. At lunch he sat between her and Muriel, and felt +an uncomfortable twinge of his conscience. Had Muriel felt +neglected? But she would understand how fascinating it was to talk +to Mrs. Graham, or rather, to hear her talk, for she seemed to have +been everywhere. Big-game shooting in Africa, the wonder of Lake +Louise, the views from Mons Pilatus, the charm of Copenhagen and +other diversions of the Tivoli; the house-fringed shores of the +Little Belt, the crowded Hohestrasse of a Sunday evening in Cologne, +the colour and _gelati_ of the Piazza San Marco, the brightness of +Unter den Linden on a June morning, the approach to the Brandenburg +Gate, Le Touquet and its golf, the winter sports at Murren--the +little glimpses of all these lighted her conversation. + +She had dined at most of the Embassies in Europe; delightful little +anecdotes, pointed with the witty brevity of a French phrase, +scintillated in her talk. Yes, she had met "Anatole France," and +told a story of his courtly grumpiness; she had crossed the Atlantic +with Paderewski, who had played for her his "Romance," on the evening +of its composition, played it in the lonely drawing-room while +passengers were at dinner, with such elegance, delicacy of touch and +strength of tone. Had she read "Mr. Polly?" asked John. That +reminded her immediately; they saw Mr. Wells in a Kent house writing +all the morning, playing hockey all the afternoon, and always the +busy little man in a blue serge suit, pouring out a medley of +history, theology, romance and hard-headed business talk. There was +a flashlight of Rodin in his palatial studio. "Madame has beautiful +hands--they must be immortalised," and one saw the robust personality +of Roosevelt at a small dinner party at the Plaza, New York, with a +later snapshot of him speechmaking from the platform of a Pullman at +a wayside station in Indiana. "A lovable man--he made that speech +just to enable fifty country school children to say in after life +that they had heard the President." + +What a luncheon hour, with Tod cross-questioning, Muriel laughing, +Vernley dumb, Mr. Vernley corroborating and Mrs. Vernley beseeching +her guest to get something to eat; and whenever a break in the +conversation came, Mr. Ribble restarted the flow of anecdote with a +query or a scholarly footnote. John would have wished that luncheon +hour to last for ever, but before they had risen from the table Tod +had slipped away and a few minutes later the car was purring in the +drive. + +"Come along, sir," he called as they rose. + +"Not yet, not yet, Tod," protested Mr. Vernley. + +"Yes, now--if you go upstairs for a nap, there'll be no golf this +afternoon. Mrs. Graham is coming too." + +"But Tod, I have no clubs," protested Mrs. Graham. + +"I have--the car's waiting now. Are you coming, Mr. Ribble?" + +"No thank you, my boy--I am still ink-bound. Muriel has promised me +a nice cup of tea in the study at four o'clock, and we have Mr. Crimp +coming, I believe." + +"That's why we're going." + +"Tod, dear!" protested his mother. "How rude you are!" + +"I loathe the fellow!" + +"And you have no reason, dear." + +"Loathing," said Mrs. Graham, "is perhaps the safest of all feelings, +it relies more on instinct than intellect." + +"And what are you children going to do?" asked Mr. Vernley. + +"Children, pater!" protested Bobbie. + +"We are having a double on the lawn. Thomson says it will be quite +good playing to-day. He cut it this morning," said Muriel. + +"Well, when we return, if you've any steam left in you, Mrs. Graham +and I will take on the winners." + +"Good!" cried Bobbie. "Come on, Scissors, let's change." In his +room, Vernley found John a pair of flannel trousers. There was nine +inches to spare round the waist, and a serious gap above the ankles. + +"If I had known I was going to look ridiculous," said John "I +shouldn't have played--" He pulled out the top of the trousers. +"'The expanse of spirit in a waist of shame,' that's what I look +like." + +"Don't be rude, Scissors--you know my figure fills you with envy. +Jove, I do hate playing this game with women. Those kids have no +idea how to use a racquet. They'll just stand and squeak every time +they miss a ball by a yard, and you're expected to say 'Hard luck.'" + +"Can Mrs. Graham play?" + +"Yes, she can make Tod work. If Alice and Kitty were at home we'd +get a good set. I say, Scissors, do you mind playing with Polly?" + +"No--but why?" + +"Because if I play with her and lose, as I shall, she'll be quite +huffy, whereas if she plays against me and wins, she'll be quite nice +to me," explained Vernley. + +"But what about Muriel?" + +"Oh--that doesn't matter. Nothing will dim you in Muriel's eyes." +John bent over and tied his shoes. + +"How do you mean?" he asked without looking up. + +"Well, you're on a pedestal that six-love can't damage. You know you +did talk brilliantly at lunch. I don't know how you do it." + +"But I was listening to Mrs. Graham." + +"And she to you--why, together you held the table, and old Ribble +kept persuading you both to go on." + +"I hope I didn't talk too--" began John. + +"You old fraud, you were both soaring and you knew it. You like it, +Scissors. I've seen you take the platform before." + +"Rot!" commented John, a little angry at being discovered. + + + +V + +When the tea bell rang, four red-faced youngsters trooped in to find +the Reverend Crimp mid-way in a monologue on the woes of the +Dodenesian Islanders. On the appearance of the tennis party, he put +down his cup very deliberately, rose from the comfortable depths of +the divan, folded his puffy hands and beamed upon the young people. + +"I think you know John," said Mrs. Vernley. + +"Ah, yes," began Mr. Crimp in a minor key. "Of course I know John. +I have a delightful memory of our last meeting. How d'ye do? I +perceive you have grown. Fresh air, eh, and good food, I am sure. +It is a true maxim, early to bed, early to rise--" + +"Not much good food at Sedley, Mr. Crimp," said Bobbie. "We always +go to bed hungry." + +"I'm sure," commented Mr. Ribble from a corner seat, "your remarks +are libellous; they are certainly belied by your figure." + +"That's what I tell Bobbie," cried Muriel, "but he says the cause of +stoutness is atmospheric, not gastronomic." + +A few minutes later the drawing room door abruptly opened and Tod +entered, followed by Mrs. Graham and Mr. Vernley. + +"Any tea left, Mother?" he cried. "Mrs. Graham has led us all the +way. Jove, she took the last hole in four!" Then, seeing the +clergyman, "Good afternoon, Mr. Crimp." Mr. Vernley crossed the room +and shook hands with him, while Tod was just about to draw up a chair +for Mrs. Graham when Mr. Vernley said, "I do not think you have met +Mrs. Graham, Mr. Crimp?"--and turning--"this is Mr. Crimp, our +clergyman, Mrs. Graham." + +Tod, still grasping the proffered chair, saw her hold out her hand to +the clergyman, who moved his in response and then suddenly faltered, +paused, and withdrew his hand. Mrs. Vernley, teapot in action, held +it suspended. Mr. Ribble seemed intent on selecting a cake. John, +Bobbie, Tod and Mr. Vernley were transfixed, waiting the blow. +Surely the fellow would not be so insane, so incredibly rude, thought +Mrs. Vernley. He would not dare! + +Mr. Crimp was speaking in a hollow, affected voice. + +"The lady's face is familiar to me--in circumstances I do not care to +recall," he said stiffly. + +The blow had fallen. It was followed with a painful silence. How +would she take it? With suspended breath, John, his heart aching, +watched her. Yes, she was superb, and dignity did not desert her. +Her face was calm; there was no sign of surprise, not even +embarrassment--perhaps this scene was not new to her. She looked at +Mr. Crimp, the ugly little man puffed out in his asserted dignity. + +"I'm sorry," she said, "to awaken your unpleasant memories. I will +retire." She turned to go. + +"Julie, dear," cried Mrs. Vernley, putting down the teapot and rising +suddenly to intercept her, "you mustn't listen to--" + +"You cad!" blazed Tod, turning on the clergyman, who had gone pale. + +"Really, sir, after insulting my guest I must ask you to retire." +Mr. Vernley's voice hardly restrained its anger. + +"If there is any insult, it is I who have suffered," replied Mr. +Crimp. "The dignity of my calling--" + +"Damn your calling!" cried Tod. + +"Sir!" flared Mr. Crimp. + +"Tod, be quiet," pleaded Mrs. Vernley. + +Mrs. Graham had now reached the door, Mrs. Vernley following, but +John was there first and opened it. + +"Leave me dear, please," said Mrs. Graham, turning, and the other +woman saw how it was with her and stopped. Mrs. Graham passed out; +John following, closed the door. He had not meant to follow her but +in his confusion he had closed the door and shut himself out with +her. Mrs. Graham looked at him half blindly, he thought. He dropped +his hand from the handle, and followed her into the hall. + +"Mrs. Graham," he called, "I--I'm--" but his lip trembled and the +words choked him. + +She paused at the foot of the stairs, then impulsively caught his +outstretched hand, and pressed it. + +"You dear boy--I know, I know!" she cried, holding his hand for a +moment, and then swiftly she mounted the stairs. John watched her +go, the blood singing in his ears. He heard her bedroom door close, +and then silence. He turned and looked at the drawing-room door. +What was happening in there? As if in answer, it opened and the Rev. +Crimp emerged, alone, closing it after him with a bang. For a moment +he paused in the hall, flushed, uncertain which way to turn, then, +seizing his hat from the hall stand, he hurried out. When the door +banged and he was gone, John started. His brow was damp with +perspiration and he was trembling. Tod came out. + +"Come in, Scissors, and finish your tea." + +"No--no, thanks Tod, I don't want any." + +"None of us do--the swine!" said Tod fiercely. + +John followed him into the drawing-room. + +"Has Mrs. Graham gone to her room, John?" asked Mrs. Vernley. He +nodded. + +"I must go up to her--poor thing," she said. Muriel, in distraction, +had lifted the piano lid and struck a chord. + +"For God's sake! Don't play that now! Oh hell!" cried Tod. Then +seeing the reproach in his mother's eyes, "I beg your pardon, +Mother--but I could murder some one! Come on, boys--I'm going to the +garage." + +Bobbie and John followed with alacrity. + + +Mrs. Graham did not appear at dinner. She kept to her room, and +there was a cloud over the party throughout the evening, despite Mr. +Ribble's delicious sallies of humour, and a fascinating discussion in +the library afterwards between him and Mr. Vernley on Proportional +Representation, a discussion very tedious to Tod and Bobbie, who +slipped away into the billiard room after vehement signals to John to +follow, which he ignored. He absorbed every detail, eager for a +political education, and very occasionally he ventured to ask a +question, which Mr. Ribble answered fully and seriously as though +John had been a grown-up person. Here was a new theme for the +debating society! So he sat, listening until the clock struck +eleven, and Mr. Vernley and Mr. Ribble lapsed into a silence filled +with tobacco smoke, whereon John rose and said good night. + +He found Bobbie perched on the edge of his bed, pulling off a sock. + +"Good Lord!" was the greeting. "Have you been in the library all the +time?" + +"Yes--isn't Mr. Ribble a wonderful man?" + +"They say so," assented Vernley, "but I always want to yawn when he +and the pater get going. It is an awful business having to live in a +house where M.P.s are always about. They talk for ever about things +nobody would give a brass button for." + +"But surely the method of government--" began John. + +"My dear old Scissors--what does it matter how we are governed so +long as we are left alone? Judging from those fellows who come down +here, you'd think the universe would cease to revolve if they went +out of office, and when they do go nobody would know, if it weren't +for their own newspapers which lament so over 'em. And it's all a +game. I've heard these fellows abuse one another, and use the vilest +terms, and, Lord bless us, they're playing bridge or golf together +the next day." + +"But that reveals our sporting instinct." + +"That's not yours, Scissors. It's the pater's, I recognise it--he +always quotes that when he throws over what he said the night before +about a man." Then ploughing his hands through his thick ruffled +hair, "Lord, what a mess!" he exclaimed. + +"What, politics?" + +"No--that filthy Crimp and Mrs. Graham." + +John started; in his selfish interest he had forgotten the incident. + +"There's one blessing," said Vernley, slowly squeezing out some +tooth-paste onto his brush, "we shan't be worried by that swine here +any more. He always made me sick. I wish I could generate a good +hate like Tod's." + +"Tod always did dislike him, didn't he?" + +"Yes. Good night, Scissors." + +"Good night." + +John did not sleep for a long time. He lived over that dreadful +episode in the drawing-room. Was Mrs. Graham sleeping now? Perhaps +she was crying, and women hated crying, for it made their eyes red, +and betrayed them in the morning. It would be awkward at breakfast +to meet her as though nothing had happened. Still he looked forward +to doing so. They were friends, she trusted him--that pressure on +his hand told him so. Then he wondered if Crimp was asleep down at +the Vicarage. Probably the beast was snoring now--he looked like a +man who could snore, with those horrible protruding teeth. Then he +fell asleep, and when he woke again Vernley was sitting on his chest. + +"You've been snoring," said Vernley. + +"I haven't," denied John indignantly. "I couldn't, I don't know how +to." + +"But I've heard you in my room--you woke me." + +"That proves I haven't, I should have woked myself first," said John +with a fine disregard of grammar. "I'm a lighter sleeper than you." + +"You've been dreaming, I'm sure." + +"Well, I have--of old Crimp," confessed John. + +"That accounts for the snoring. Hurry up, the first gong's gone." + +Downstairs, Muriel was the first to meet John. + +"Mrs. Graham's going," she told him. "Isn't it a shame?" + +"Going?--what, now?" + +"No, soon after breakfast. She told Mother she couldn't stay. Of +course she knows we're all sympathetic and all that, but she says she +finds sympathy as hard to endure as the other things. There are +always scenes like this wherever she goes, and she doesn't intend +ever going out again. I'm dreadfully sorry for her." + +"So am I, but Muriel, we mustn't show it; we must pretend nothing's +happened. Let's joke with her at breakfast." + +They went in together. Mrs. Graham was there, and she was not +red-eyed. Indeed, to John, she seemed more beautiful than ever. She +talked wittily to them all, and Muriel and John found their desperate +resolution quite unnecessary. After breakfast they all walked round +the grounds. Mrs. Graham was leaving in half an hour. To his +delight John found himself walking with her down the rhododendron +drive. + +"I'm so sorry you're going, Mrs. Graham," he said. + +"That's kind of you, Scissors--may I call you Scissors?" she asked, +smiling at him. + +"Oh, please!" he answered. + +"And I hope," she added, "this will not be our last meeting. If ever +you come up to town, and would care, you must call at my little flat. +I will give you my address." She opened her chatelaine and extracted +a card. John took it. + +"I should love to, Mrs. Graham--when the next holidays come--will you +be in town then?" + +"Yes," and he noticed she hesitated before adding quickly, "but you +must ask your guardian first." + +John's heart stopped. The cruelty of it! + +"I shall do nothing of the kind," he said hotly. "I--I think you're +wonderful, Mrs. Graham," he added in boyish admiration, and he +noticed she turned her head away. A moment later they had come out +of the drive and joined the others. + + + + +BOOK III + +GROWTH + + + +CHAPTER I + + +I + +The chronicles of youth, filled with trivial incidents, but acute at +the moment of experience, swiftly pass. John found himself, on his +seventeenth birthday, hardly aware that he was leaving boyhood behind +him. He was very different from the shy sensitive youngster who on +that momentous day of his arrival at Sedley had stood miserably on +the platform watching with an aching heart the receding train. He +had altered, almost incredibly, and yet he had not altered. In the +handsome, self-possessed lad, a leader of his house, something of a +god to the younger boys, with already a distinguished 'career' behind +him, as athlete and scholar, a President of the Literary Society, a +leading light in debate, the Editor of the school magazine, Sedley +indeed had a creditable specimen of its training. + +Had Mr. Fletcher, who had watched over him with a father's care, been +asked for his most reliable boy, it would have been John that he +named, or for his most promising, again, John, despite the dazzling +brilliance of the fitful Marsh; and yet Mr. Fletcher knew his +weaknesses--the tendency to dream, the sudden sensitiveness that made +John seem afraid of life, and occasionally, but rarely now, that +strange oriental preoccupation, that came over him, and shut him out +from his fellows. There was always something a little mysterious, +thought Mr. Fletcher. He loved and knew well all his boys. Even +Marsh's fanciful versatility held no secrets from him. But he never +quite plumbed the bottom of John's nature. Affectionate, deeply so, +revealed in a hundred small acts of tribute, Mrs. Fletcher had drawn +out the fires of devotion in the boy's heart, even sometimes, to +little whimsical confessions that she knew were signs of his absolute +trust. He had talked of his mother often. It was in Mrs. Fletcher's +drawing-room, where she had first seen father and son together, that +they talked of the reunion, after a parting of three years' duration. +She laughed away all John's fears of that meeting, soothed his +feverish anticipation. + +"Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, will father think I've grown?" he would ask. + +"Why of course,--you're almost a man now." + +"But do you think I have grown as he would wish?"--half fearfully +this, at which Mrs. Fletcher would laugh, "Why you silly boy, are you +afraid your father won't be glad to see you?" + +"Oh,--it's not that--only you know Mrs. Fletcher--he thought so much +of me when I was a kid--I'm almost afraid he might be disappointed." + +"Fathers and mothers never change, John, it's the children who do +that," she answered him. "And look at all you've done and--" she was +going to add, what a handsome fellow you've grown into, but she +checked herself. She didn't believe in turning a boy's head. + +So the momentous day came. John, up very early, very scrupulously +dressed, excited by a confirmatory telegram, was filled with anxiety +as to whether the taxicab would be in time to meet the train. He +slacked shamelessly in form that morning, but the master was +indulgent. Something of his anxiety and excitement permeated his +friends. Even Vernley became aware of the meaning of nerves, good +old Vernley, fatter and more faithful than ever, sharer of all joys, +woes, triumphs, disasters, and food. + +But the great moment came; the train drew up, the doors flew open, a +sudden flooding of the platform, a boy's flushed face under a straw +hat, an eager survey, with heart tremendously thumping, and a strong +resolution not to ran or cry, a terrible fear that he had not come +after all, and then-- + +There! His father! He had not changed! + +"Dad!" he shouted rapturously, waving a hand. The father stared a +while. + +"John, my boy--what a great lad you are!" There was a swift, +astonished survey. This tall, clean-limbed, laughing boy his son! +This lad, with the glimmering grace of an athlete, the boy he had +nursed at Amasia? His eyes lingered on every feature, noted the +broadening shoulders, the straightness of his carriage, the direct +level glance of the eyes. Presently they were seated side by side in +the taxi, and then, absurdly enough, John found he had nothing to +say, not one of those thousand premeditated questions to ask. The +father, too, felt restrained, and waited. + +"Ali sends his love," he said, at last. + +"Dear old Ali! How is he, Dad?" + +"Grown, but not like you, and quite a grave married man now." + +"Married! What a joke--Ali married!" + +"He does not think it a joke, he is very serious about it. He was +married the week before I left. I met his father in Constantinople. +Ali seemed a little sad because you did not write oftener. I showed +him your last photograph. He looked at it for a long time and then +said you were a great lord. I told him you were more probably a +great anxiety." + +Then followed lunch at Mr. Fletcher's--just his father and Mr. and +Mrs. Fletcher, and, by the way of a great favour to John in +celebration of the event--Vernley and Marsh as special guests. John +was frightfully anxious about his friends. He wanted them to admire +his father as he did, and in turn he hoped desperately that his +father would take to Vernley and Marsh. He was not long in doubt, +for the elderly man had soon won his way into the boys' hearts, and +had broken down their stiff reserve. + +"Isn't he ripping, Scissors!" whispered Vernley, during the second +course, "and you're alike as two peas." Under encouragement, Marsh +was radiant. John felt his father was such a success that he would +ask Lindon to the great tea in his study. A little in awe of the +hypercritical god, he had held Lindon in reserve, but Marsh had been +conquered and that young gentleman was critical and seldom approved +of parents. "An outworn institution," he always declared as he +observed them on Prize Day. + +Marsh, however, rose to great heights of enthusiasm and made the tea +party an unqualified success. It was true there were not enough +buns, owing to the repetition of some guests before the plate reached +others, and the kettle fell off the fire and soaked the muffins. +These were incidents. The great event was Mr. Dean's stories of Asia +Minor. And it was Marsh who kept him going, Marsh with an incredible +knowledge of strange Eastern ways, and an insight and intelligent +curiosity that amazed John's father. When the bell went and they all +trooped away, John knew it had been a triumphant day. + +Mr. Dean left the next morning. He had business to attend to before +his holidays, but he crowned his success with his last act. He asked +Vernley, Marsh and Lindon to join him and John for the first +fortnight of the summer holidays. He had taken a house at Grasmere +for a month, after which he and John were making visits to his +friends. With this promise of a happy reunion, Mr. Dean left them. + +That holiday became a great memory to John. They had a small house +that nestled on the side of Fairfield, with wonderful views from all +its windows of Grasmere and the lovely little lake, the road to +sylvan Rydal, the fern covered side of Red Bank. These were days +when they all set out, knapsack on backs, with stout boots, shorts +and sweaters, to climb the mountains. And what talk was theirs! +There was Marsh with his inimitable irony; where did he gather all +that he knew? Mr. Dean said that he must be a reincarnation. + +"No, please!" retorted Marsh. "Have you noticed how all the cranks +who profess to be reincarnations always claim something regal or +aristocratic or famous, for their previous existence? Mr. Smith will +tell you he was Marc Antony, while little Miss Titmouse, who lives on +nuts and uncooked food, and believes bad thoughts make bad weather, +will assure you she was mother to Marcus Aurelius, which in some way +explains that fellow's incessant moralising. Now if I have to be a +reincarnation, let me be original. I don't want to be an echo of +Demosthenes, or a second edition of Hannibal, or Henry the +Eighth--I'm much more likely to have been dustman to Ptolemy the +First, providing there were dustmen in that era." + + +In the evening, after dinner, when tired in every limb with a long +jaunt across the mountains, with that pleasant ache that follows +exercise, they would sit in the lamp-light listening to a reading +from the poets; or a passage descriptive of the ground they would +explore on the morrow. Perhaps, after many requests, Lindon would +sit at the piano and play a ballade or a sonata, while they looked +out across the gathering gloom at a solitary light on the opposite +side of the valley; and they would notice how bright and lonely were +the stars hanging over the mountain heights. As John sat there in +the dimly lit room with his friends and his father, listening +intently, a deep melancholy stole into his heart. This might never +happen again, this strange jolly time, and there was his future in +the world and all life so strange before him. But the sadness of +these reflections brought him a glow of pleasure. He felt so acutely +conscious of everything, he seemed so capable in this fresh +experience of Life to accomplish anything he wanted. So he let +himself dream pleasantly, which Vernley would notice and suddenly +exclaim, "Scissors has gone East again!" for it was that old far-away +expression which had so often come into John's face, but was rarer +now. + +So with crowded hours the end of the holiday came. Invitations to +spend a week at Vernley's and at Marsh's were accepted, the rest of +the holiday was to be spent by John and his father together. They +travelled down with Vernley from Windermere to his home, and here Mr. +Dean once more entered that large world of men and affairs with which +he had lost touch. His holiday in England was not unconnected with a +proposal that might result in his permanent return a few years hence, +for which he was striving. It was essential that John should be kept +in England and have a large field of opportunity at his disposal. He +had made arrangements with Mr. Fletcher for John to enter at King's +College when his time ended at Sedley, as it would, next year. It +would be time enough then to decide upon John's career, if the boy +had not revealed any preference. + +He liked the Vernleys and was glad to find John had chosen his +friends so well. He had hoped to take his son on a visit to some of +his own friends, but it was obvious that John had chosen his friends +with a regard for their quality of character. There was something +very open and faithful about young Vernley and this was reflected by +the whole household. However much Mr. Vernley might try to deceive +himself, and believe and attempt to impress the belief that he was a +man of affairs, Dean soon detected that he was naturally lazy and +extremely good-hearted, with a passion for horses, a glass of port +after dinner and a good cigar. + +As for Muriel, that little fairy danced her way into the father's +heart as she had into the son's. John had been very guarded in his +remarks about Muriel, so guarded, that his father guessed all +immediately. Muriel herself soon decided that Mr. Dean should have +been Mr. Ribble's brother. There was the same genial, somewhat +"curly-crinkly" appearance, as she called it, and as she confessed to +him one evening when he had begged a kiss in return for a box of +chocolates, she was glad he was not as serious as John, "who looks at +me like a collie dog and wags his tail when I smile." Mr. Dean +laughed heartily at this, it was so truly descriptive of John, who +followed her in silence and devotion. When Mr. Dean left, he took +Muriel on one side. + +"I wonder if I can ask you a favour?--it's for John's sake," he +added, as she looked up at him. "You see he has no brothers, and no +sisters, which is even more important for a boy, and living somewhat +lonely, I'm afraid he may become self-centred, which means being +selfish, so I want you to be his official sister. He'll talk to you. +I think he'll even tell you his dreams and ambitions, things he would +never tell to other boys because he feels he is just a little +different from them. I think he is, for instance, too highly +sensitive. I want him to grow out of that; and only sharing +confidences will help him. So I'm asking you, Muriel, to make a +brother of him, if you will?" + +Muriel had never quite looked at it in this light; then she had a +swift intuition that Mr. Dean was not in the dark. A sister--that +meant service in return. It meant something more than having John as +a courtier--it meant, yes, running after him a little bit if +necessary, and--oh clever Mr. Dean!--sharing him with other friends. +She promised readily. She was going to be a sister to John. + +Another week and they had left the Vernleys and were at the Marsh's. +John's father had been doubtful regarding young Marsh for a day or +two. There was no question of the boy's brilliance, but he +distrusted precocious persons, and Marsh's omniscient cynicism was +not healthy in a boy of seventeen. He attached too much importance +to the smartness of a thing. All his opinions were original and +brilliant, but they were dominated by those ends rather than by a +love of truth. It was not good that John should see the ridiculous, +bizarre or cynical aspect of life before he had tasted its +wholesomeness; and there was that in Marsh's character, so restless, +so desirous of things because they were new rather than good or +genuine, which made his judgments unbalanced for all their refreshing +enthusiasm. + +But fuller knowledge of the boy modified these reservations. His was +a razor-edge intellect, and highly combative. John, inclined to be +sensitive, introspective, was shaken up and drawn out of himself by +Marsh, who challenged all his ideas and made him defend them with +passion. Moreover, Marsh had, for a mere youth, an amazing range, +not of experience, but of thought. The literature of Greece, Rome, +Germany, France and England were not strange to him. He read rapidly +and talked volubly; true, his ideas were ill-digested, but he had +ideas, and they flowed in his conversation. His curiosity was +tireless as his enthusiasm. On their Lakeland holiday Mr. Dean had +been amazed by his turbulent spirits, his readiness to rhapsodise, +argue, and run, swim, box, climb, read and eat at any time of the day +and night. He had no temper in the meaning of the word. His +equanimity was never shaken. + +"You know, sir," he said one day, "old Scissors thinks I'm the +Voltaire of the party, but when he likes to wake up he can make us +all take a back seat. Sometimes his quiet efficiency annoys me. He +is always so infernally correct. Something-like always does for me, +whether it's a quotation or a figure, but Scissors always has the +exact thing and knocks you down with it, and the queer thing is, that +he's got imagination--and they don't often go together; you don't get +the Scottish lawyer working with the Welsh preacher." + +Mr. Dean was amazed at this bit of schoolboy psychology, but it +raised Marsh in his estimation, and from that time he saw there was +something more than scintillating wit in Marsh's observation. With +this view of the boy, all his preconceptions of his parents were +shattered on meeting them. How came this bird of such bright plumage +in so sombre a nest? + +Teddy Marsh met them at Loughboro Station, in exuberant spirits as +usual. "Good morning, sir," he cried, waving his straw hat as soon +as he sighted the guests on the platform. "Hello, Scissors, you +rusty old blade! Come along, sir, our wigwam on wheels awaits you. +The pony's in a vile temper this morning, and will probably insist on +going in the opposite direction. Yes, they're all well, thanks. +Mother's got a new creed--let's see, what was it when you were here +last, Scissors, a Nutfooder or a Christadelphian, or was it +Rawsonism?--well now she's a Sunrayer. You'll hear all about it; +they're a sect she's linked up with in middle America; they lie in +the sunshine all day, think violet thoughts, and achieve salvation by +sunburn. The governor's horrified and threatens excommunication. +All aboard?--won't that bag topple over? Hold on, I'm going to +tickle Flossie's flanks." + +He whirled the whip and with a running fire of questions, answers and +comments, they rolled along the leafy lanes towards the vicarage. + + + +II + +As before, that visit was composed of long sunny days in the garden, +endless tennis sets, or cricket parties at the Hall, and always in +the evening, after dinner, there was Mrs. Marsh's wonderful playing +in the drawing-room. Tea-time was the favourite hour with John. He +always felt glad when he saw the maid, changed from her pink and +white dress for the morning into official black and white, with lace +cap, bearing the folding table which she set under the walnut tree. +Then hammock chairs appeared; after that a white tea cloth, and the +rattle of china and the glint of the silver sugar basin--how he knew +the design!--two folding lids, with soft white sugar like flour +inside--jampot and teaspoons and cake knives. Then--after what +seemed a long time--the glad tinkle of the tea-bell, with Mrs. Marsh +crossing to the table, her first appearance for the afternoon. Mr. +Marsh would follow a few minutes late, and sometimes Teddie would +rouse him in the study, where he dozed after lunch when the weather +was hot. Generally there were a couple of guests to make a tennis +four, either the solicitor's daughter, or the governess from the +Hall, who played the best tennis of any lady in the county and was +always in danger of losing her situation because visitors at the Hall +would always mistake her for the mistress. + +It was a merry tea-time. Mr. Marsh was not always quite awake, and +he had, at this function, quite a gift for Spoonerisms. + +"Pass me the plake, kease," he would say. + +"Certainly, sad," would respond Teddie. + +After tea, John's father and Mr. Marsh usually disappeared. On two +occasions they were challenged to a tennis double and to the +amazement of exuberant youth, won. But generally they disappeared at +the end of the garden. + +"They've gone to talk roses again," commented Mrs. Marsh. + +"The governor's mouth's watering with the names Mr. Dean's given +him--he'll go about talking Turkish to the gardener for the next two +months," said Teddie. + +Dressing for dinner, too, was like a prelude to the delight of the +meal and the music to follow. John's dress shirt and jacket and +trousers lay neatly spread out on the bed. + +There was, at six-thirty prompt, the copper jug, filled with hot +water, with its initialled felt cover; and the country bathroom! +John always wanted to sing in his. There was the low music of the +running water, the lucid green shimmer, reflected on the porcelain +sides, sending waves of rippling light over the ceiling. + +Then, with gleaming shirt front and glossy hair, an immaculate boy +would descend to the drawing room and wait with the others for the +dinner gong. John soon grew to love those country sounds just before +dinner; through the windows glowed long stretches of wooded country; +often a thrush marked even song, and there was the retiring twitter +of the birds. A cow driven byre-wards lowed in the valley, and the +cawing of rooks in the Hall drive came on eddyings of the evening +breeze. + +At lamplight in the drawing-room, after coffee, Teddie would raise +the dark reflective lid of the grand. + +"Now, Mother, come and break the Beckstein," he said; almost a +formula, that sentence, to John. And Mrs. Marsh would rise and seat +herself at the keyboard, carefully adjusting the height of the seat, +moving back the music-rack slide, playing a preparatory major scale, +that descended in the minor, before proceeding to the real business. + +Then, a momentary silence, the death of talk, and the first notes +trembling into harmony. Never would John forget that first night on +which, squatting on the floor at his father's feet, he heard Mrs. +Marsh play Schumann's _Papillons_, It opened a new world to him; he +seemed to be looking down a long grove of trees into a glade filled +with moonlight, where an intruding wind, lost and hesitating, ran +from bough to bough awakening whispers. That hesitating prelude, the +slow, then quickening announcement of the theme, and the glad, +butterfly-flutter of the melody, dying away again into melancholy and +silence. + +Somehow, as John sat there, with his father so near, it brought back +other nights, nights on that verandah overlooking the silver Yeshil +Irmak, as it flowed singing along the dark gorge, with the high moon +peering over the cliffs of Amasia; and a great longing filled him to +be back there again just once, to sit in that hot, spiced dusk, to +hear the tinkle of the camel bells from the highway, and perhaps the +soft voice of Ali, dear old Ali, dignified and melancholy, sitting +cross-legged, and reading every mysterious sound of that Eastern +night. + +"There, that's enough for me," cried Mrs. Marsh, breaking across +John's reverie. "Come along, John, you've got to sing." + +"John, sing?" cried Mr. Dean. "I never knew he could sing." + +"I can't, Dad, it's Mrs. Marsh's idea!" + +"But he can! Come along, John," and she struck the opening chords of +"Drink to me only." "Why, Mr. Dean, your lazy son used to sit here, +watching me work night after night, and it was only by accident I +found he had a voice--I heard him singing in the bathroom one +morning." + +"Mother's heard me in the bathroom," said Teddie, "but that's why she +doesn't ask me." + +"No shirking, John," called Mrs. Marsh, replaying the opening bars, +and obediently John stood up and sang in a light baritone voice. +When he had finished there was applause. There was feeling in John's +voice; the spirit breaking through the flesh. + +"You should hear him sing, 'Who is Sylvia?' Mr. Fletcher makes him +sing it," said Teddie. + +"But Mrs. Marsh has no music," answered John finding a loophole for +escape. + +"You fraud--you know you can play it." + +Mrs. Marsh jumped up. "I believe he can do lots of things--and he +sits selfishly here listening to us all blundering." + +John sat down, placed his hands on the keyboard, and began softly, +being very nervous, chiefly because his father was listening. + + "_Who is Sylvia, what is she? + That all her swains commend her. + Holy, fair and wise is she; + The heavens grace did lend her, + That adored she might be._" + + +"And now that's finished," said Teddie, "let's have Sedley Field +Song." + +"You asked me to sing 'Who is Sylvia,'" retorted John. + +"I know, but ours is better." + +"All right then, here you are,"--and once more John's hands pressed +down the black and white keys while his voice went soaring into +"Field Song." + + "_Summer days, winter days, when a fellow's young + And friends are many and pains are few, + When the ball going over filled every fellow's lung + With cheers for--_" + + +Yes, those were beautiful nights in the lamp-lit vicarage +drawing-room. Their memories sank deep into the heart of a happy +impressionable boy. But one more impression. Enter, on Thursday +night, two days before the termination of their visit, Veronica, aged +seventeen and all the Spring sweetness thereof. It was thoughtful of +Mrs. Marsh to ask a lonely girl from a neighbouring manor house, but +she could not have seen the effect on John. He first saw her in the +hall. He had just come down the stairs, immaculate and well-groomed, +with shining hair and the rose-red of health in his face. He heard a +mingling of voices--Mrs. Marsh's and another--that other! His heart +stopped. It was like the trill of a bird. Then he saw a flimsy +cloak fall away, revealing a thin, elfin girl, with gleaming +shoulders and a dress swan-like in the dim hall light. She turned +and he could see her face--an oval, petite face with a little +whimsical mouth which might be just going to laugh or cry, and the +small head tumbling with curls, short and bobbed, and shaking as she +turned. It was a vision and the youth on the stairs paused--would +she vanish into the darkness of the doorway again, or-- + +"Here's John," said Mrs. Marsh coming forward. "Veronica, this is +John Dean, Teddie's friend." + +"How d' you do," she said to John, and half held out her hand, but +John, embarrassed, withheld his, and then bowed stiffly. Mrs. Marsh +noticed his gaucherie, and guessed the cause. + +"You're to take Veronica into dinner," she said, leading the way to +the drawing-room. He should have said something polite in response, +but he walked like a stick at the side of the girl, tongue-tied, and +furious at his own stupidity. He had never known his self-possession +to desert him in this manner. Even Muriel had not left him +speechless. Here, he began a comparison with Muriel, and felt a +twinge of disloyalty. Of course he was not disloyal---and disloyal +to what? But the thought perturbed, with the result that Miss +Veronica Chase, used to adoration, found the good-looking youth at +her side very dull, despite his romantic appearance. The entrance of +Teddie with "Hello, Veronica old thing!" relieved the tension, and by +the time they were seated at dinner, John had found his tongue. He +had asked her if she lived thereabouts, when followed a minute +description of their old manor house, with one of the thousands of +beds which that poor restless queen, Elizabeth, was reported to have +slept on. + +"Why don't you and Teddie came over to-morrow for tea? It's only two +miles from here." + +"I should like to very much," said John. What an enchanting little +hand she had; he watched the thin fingers as they played with a fork. +When she turned to speak to Teddie, he took the opportunity to study +her profile, fascinated by the beautiful curve of her neck, the +little pink ear, half clouded in a curl, the mouth--with its pensive +corners. This is perfection, thought John. + + "_Ah, Boy, it is a dream for life too high, + It is a bird that hath no feet for earth: + Strange wings, strange eyes, go seek another sky, + And find thy fellows of an equal birth._" + +--He recalled Richard le Gallienne's lines. And the real John +disappeared that night--he was a creature of mono-syllables, and +Marsh had no flint on which to strike the sparks of his wit. He +realised that John had been swamped in the flood of Beauty, and +gallantly came to the rescue. True, John emerged somewhat in the +drawing-room, and to-night, he sang readily and well, his effort +being repaid by Veronica's "you sing beautifully--I could listen all +night," although she jarred somewhat slightly by adding, "Do you know +any comic songs?" Though he abhorred them, John would gayly have +responded, and made a note to add a comic song to his repertoire. + +The end of the evening came all too soon; the car waited outside to +bear her away. The two boys lingered round it while the chauffeur +tucked the rugs about his young mistress. Then she went with a +farewell wave of the hand and a musical "Good night," which John, +standing there in the porch, heard drift up to the star-light. + +"Are you going to stand there forever, O stricken heart?" asked +Marsh. "I want to fasten this door--and bar Love out." + +John went in. Upstairs, in their room, he was silent. + +"Scissors, you poor impressionable young calf, I hope you're not +going to pine away in the night." + +"Oh shut up!" + +"That is not a gift of mine, as you know. Scissors, old thing, +you're racing your phagocytes, as Metchnikoff would say, since all +love is stimulation. She isn't worth it. I know old Veronica. +She's a heart-cracker. She counts her conquests by the hundred." + +"I don't think it's very decent of you to--" began John, a little +peevish. Marsh's flippancy irritated him. + +"To abuse our guest? No, it's not, Scissors, but I don't want to see +you going about with sticking plaster on your heart. Old Veronica +and I understand each other perfectly. She cracked me once, and then +laughed. That kid hasn't the brains of a beetle; she's merely an +agitator of pink youth. Flirt with her, yes, and she'll give you a +good time, for she's got a sporting instinct--but don't take her +seriously--she doesn't know what it means. Did you hear her ask you +for a comic song?--and you did sing well to-night, Scissors--the +nightingale to his mate." + +Marsh touched the tender spot. That comic song request rankled. + +"You didn't talk much with her?" asked Marsh. + +"No." + +"Well--do so to-morrow. Ask her what she reads, what she likes, the +pictures she prefers. She's got a mind like an illustrated Sunday +paper--you've had the comic supplement to-night." + +John groaned. Marsh's arrows always hit. + +"I think you're beastly about her," he said desperately. + +"No, I'm not. Veronica and I are great pals, but she doesn't come +deer-stalking on this estate. You're a sweet kid, Scissors, and I'm +not going to let you cry yourself to sleep for a butterfly with the +brains of a bat!" + +"Oh rot--you do rag, Teddie." + +"Well, well, dear infant, just investigate to-morrow." + +Why did Marsh delight in pricking balloons? He was right: horribly +right, thought John, as they drove away from the manor house next +evening. That afternoon had been one long disillusionment. She was +just as beautiful, just as attractive, and John feasted his eyes and +heart on her. But she made a mistake when she took him down to pick +gooseberries, in the far end of the garden, away from the others. + +"Give me your hand," she cried, and he helped her up the bank. He +tried to master an impulse to squeeze it, and just failing, was going +to, when she anticipated him. That sent the first cool little wind +around his heart. She laughed frankly into his eyes. She was +irresistibly beautiful, "and she knows it," thought John. + +"Shut your eyes, Scissors, and open your mouth." + +He obeyed. A cool thin hand held his chin, the fingers of another +pushed a berry in his mouth. + +"Swallow!" + +He swallowed obediently. + +"Open!" she commanded. + +He opened his eyes, her face was very near to his, her bewitching red +mouth smiled at him, and he saw two little devils of mischief dancing +in blue eyes that looked straight into his. + +John looked back into them. There was a pause. + +"You're shy," she said reproachfully. + +"I know," he answered. Her hand slid off his shoulder. + +"I wonder who's winning the game," she said, moving towards a bush. +"Perhaps we ought to go back." + +"But I want to talk to you," said John. + +"Do you?--you are a strange boy," Veronica said. + +"I'm not a boy--at least, no more than you are a girl," he retorted +somewhat resentfully. + +Another silence. They came to a summer house with a table in it, on +which a book was turned down. John picked it up. It was by a +popular woman novelist whose sex sentimentality swamped the +bookstalls. + +"Do you read Amelia Serkle?" she asked. "I love them." + +"No---I've never read her books--are you fond of reading?" + +"Awfully." + +"What do you like? Have you read Conrad?" + +"No." + +"Wells--or Bennett?" he added. + +"Yes--one of Bennett's--I didn't like it. I like Amelia Serkle and +Helena Thinne best." + +"Oh," said John. She was fast losing marks. + +"And poetry, I adore poetry!" she said ecstatically. + +"So do I," said John, warming. "Isn't Masefield splendid, and +Thompson and Swinburne--" + +"I haven't read any of those, I think. I like Laurence Hope, and oh, +I love Ella Wheeler Wilcox! Do you know her 'Poems of Passion?'" + +"I looked at them--once," said John. There was no hope left in his +voice. He did not disguise the fact very successfully. + +"We'd better go back," she said. + +They joined the others, who had finished their set. It was late and +Marsh suggested going. + +"Good-bye," he said, at the end of the drive, down which Veronica +accompanied them. Even then John marvelled at her beauty, enhanced +by the setting of those elms and the old manor house. + +"Good-bye," she said, offering John her hand. + +"Good-bye," he responded. And as he said the word it was obvious +that they had lost all interest in each other. It really was +"Good-bye," and neither minded. + +Half a mile from the house, walked in comparative silence, Marsh +burst into laughter. + +"What's the joke?" asked John. + +"I can't help laughing at that poor kid--she's so crude." + +"Who--Veronica--why?" + +"I'm wondering how many romances she's killed in the gooseberry +bushes." + +John glanced angrily at Marsh, and then the humour of it caught him +and he laughed also. + +"How did you guess?" he asked. + +"Because I've shut my eyes and opened my mouth," said Marsh. "Poor +old Veronica. She is a flirt! If only she had brains--just a few. +And there are a lot like her. Now, I'll tell you of a girl that's my +type, jolly sensible too. I want to see more of her next Prize Day." + +"Who?" asked John interested. + +"Vernley's sister," replied Marsh. + +"Oh--yes," said John, knocking down a nettle with a swish of his +tennis racquet. + + +Then came the end. The train drew away from Loughboro Station. +John's father leaned back in his seat while John hung out of the +window, waving to Teddie and Mr. and Mrs. Marsh on the platform, +until the arch of the bridge shut them from sight. John sank back +into his seat. + +"Aren't they jolly, Dad!" he cried. + +"Splendid, old son,--you make good friends." + + + +III + +There was one unsuccessful event in their holidays, that was the +visit to John's uncle. Mr. Dean went, John thought, from a spirit of +duty rather than pleasure. John had only seen his uncle once, when +he had come to the school on Prize Day and had treated John as a +child of five and adopted an air of patronage towards his father, +which the boy deeply resented. They had not responded to each other +in a single detail. "Just like his father," said Sir Henry to his +wife, the next day, "as impractical as Charles and as wayward. The +boy wants strong handling. I told his house-master so." He had +departed without asking John home for the holidays, greatly to John's +relief, for he would have gone in a spirit of martyrdom. John felt +he was resented because he was his father's son. It must be galling +to the uncle with no sons and two daughters, to know, unless he was +more fortunate, that his nephew would inherit the title. It was the +one unsuccessful fact in Sir Henry's life. He could and did ignore +his brother, but hang it, he could not ignore his brother's son. He +never read without anger in the Baronetage, "Heir-presumptive, +Charles Dean q.v." and q.v. led him to John Narcissus Dean. +Narcissus! What a preposterous name to give a boy--to an heir! + +Their visit did not improve the mutual opinion. Charles Dean +resented his brother's air of patronage, his smug self-satisfaction, +his ill-disguised vanity over his estates which somehow he seemed to +attribute to his own ability. Four tedious days, in which every +minute held the possibility of friction, brought the visit to an end. +John's father did not say much afterwards, but John realised all he +thought. Once only did he reveal in words what John surmised. + +"I hope you will never have cause to ask help from any +relations--stand on your own feet, John," he said. + +John accompanied his father down to Southampton. It seemed almost +impossible that this was the end, that he would not see him again for +two years. How far away was Amasia--and now that they were together, +so closely together, it seemed as if they had never been apart. + +"Two more years, John--and I shall have a directorship here--it won't +be long, old son--you're seventeen and time flies at that age." + +They stood at the top of the gangway. A gong was sounding, and an +officer came down the deck. "Visitors ashore, please!" he shouted. + +Father and son grasped hands. It was a long tight grip, with John +trying to look squarely into his father's eyes, summoning a stiff lip +to his aid, the father simply saying, + +"Good-bye, dear lad." + +"Good-bye, Father." + +A loosening of the grip, a turn, and his feet were blundering down +the steep, trellised gangway. He halted on the quay, while the ship +was being warped out. They were too far apart for words, his father +high up above him, leaning over the deck rail. Now the boat was +away, the last rope drawn aboard; the stern propellers thrashed the +waters into a white foam, the gulls cried, wheeled and followed. +John pulled out his handkerchief and waved it, though he felt soon he +might have to put it to another use. There was a responding flutter, +and then distance grew between them, distance across which John's +heart was stretching until it well nigh broke; a grey spot on the +horizon, and it was all over. + +He walked along the quay, the rain began to drizzle down. It turned +cold and he shivered as he walked back to the station. + +England seemed a lonely place to live in. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +A busy year, a year filled with little successes, trials and +triumphs, and John, taller and a little quieter, perhaps too quiet +for a healthy lad of eighteen. He had achieved his object by winning +the Mansell Exhibition, not of great value, it was true, but £50 +would help and the real value of success lay in the fact that his +father would know he had worked since they had parted. In June, +Vernley and he had gone to Cambridge for the King's College entrance +examination. It had not troubled either of them greatly, although +Vernley, with an unshaken belief in his own stupidity, swore he had +been ploughed. Their glimpse of Cambridge filled them with dreams of +a golden age. They stayed on for a couple of days after the +examination and made visits and excursions. Vernley's cousin was at +Trinity and had a large bare room, reached by a winding staircase +that looked on to the Backs, with a vista of bridges and elm-tree +walks. + +The day after their return to Sedley, Mr. Fletcher sent for John. It +was late in the evening when young Jones came to his study with the +summons, and John was just finishing a game of chess with Marsh. +Vernley sat in the window trying to read "Henry Esmond" in the sunset +light. The Triumvirate, as they were called, had recently moved into +this large room in the corner of the quadrangle. It was regarded as +the lap of luxury by the small boys who saw with envious eyes its +easy chairs, the cretonne curtains and the piano which Marsh had +imported. + +"Shan't be long," said John going out. What could Fletcher want him +for? Perhaps a house matter--he was a prefect now. He tapped at the +green baize door, pushed it open, then crossed the small hall of the +Fletcher household, and knocked again at the study door. Mr. +Fletcher bade him enter. + +"Oh--Dean, I want to see you--come in--sit down. It's about a +matter--a--" he hesitated. Why did the man fumble so, and fidget +with the blotter on his desk? The room was almost dark, he could +hardly see the master's face. Suddenly Mr. Fletcher got up and +walked across the room to the fireplace where he stood for a moment +with his back to John. Then abruptly he turned. + +"Dean--I hardly know what to say--how to tell you--I'm--I'm--you must +be brave, my dear lad, but I know you will be--you will be," he +repeated. John just stared at him. What had happened--and was he to +blame in any way? + +"What's the matter, sir?" he asked. + +Fletcher drew near and put his hand on John's shoulder. + +"I have sad news, John. Your father--" + +John started to his feet; why had Mr. Fletcher's hand trembled so? + +"There's nothing wrong, sir?" he asked, his heart sinking within him, +for he knew now something was wrong. + +"No, not wrong, Dean--but everything that could be brave, and like +him. My poor boy, your father is dead--there--there, it is terrible +for you, I know." Mr. Fletcher pressed him down on to his seat again. + +"Dead!" said John,--"not--not dead, sir?" he pleaded, raising his +hand as if to ward off a blow. + +"This letter has just come, Dean, by express post." + +John took it, and the master crossed the room to the electric switch. + +"I'd rather it was dark, sir,--I think I can see it," said John. + +"Certainly," replied Mr. Fletcher, and with an aching heart he +watched the boy go to the window and peer over the letter. It seemed +an eternity before John turned and spoke. + +"There--there seems no hope, sir--the company has none," he said in +an expressionless voice. + +"No, Dean, I fear not--it is terrible." + +"Yes," echoed John. + +Why did the boy stand there so silent, so emotionless, with the +letter in his hand? Anything was better than this unnatural calm. +Did he realise yet? + +"Dad--died fighting," said John, jerkily. + +"Yes--to the last, they say. He defended them magnificently--you +have that to remember. These massacres are terrible, terrible--I--" +he paused. Still John stood there. Mr. Fletcher had expected an +outburst, had prepared himself for it; and here they stood in the +dark facing each other, silent; nothing but the ticking of the clock +sounding in the abyss of these tense moments. The entrance of Mrs. +Fletcher was welcome. She moved to John's side, saying nothing, but +he felt her sympathy. + +Then, folding up the letter, "Thank you, sir. I will go now," he +said. + +"Yes, Dean--if you would like to stay here--we can--" + +"Thank you, sir, but I'll go--I'm--I'm all right, sir," he replied, +moving towards the door. Mrs. Fletcher, saw his drawn face. He was +so pitifully brave. He had reached the door now, was turning the +handle. He hesitated a moment, they saw him pause and turn, then +swiftly he moved towards them, flung himself face down on the couch, +buried his face in the cushions, and sobbed like a child. + +Mrs. Fletcher sat down beside him, and motioned to her husband to go. +He went out silently, leaving them in the dark room. + +"Oh, Mrs. Fletcher--my dear Dad! My dear Dad!" + +Mrs. Fletcher put her hand on the bowed head and stroked his hair. +There was nothing to say; she sat there, simply, her sympathy tending +him, until the storm passed. + + + +II + +John never forgot the details of those three days that followed. +First there was the anxiety of his father's fate. That he was dead +he knew beyond hope, but there was a lack of details, of the manner +and the circumstances. The letter from Messrs. Agnew & Cust merely +quoted the cable they had received stating the death of his father at +Amasia defending some Armenians who had taken refuge in his house +during a massacre. That was all, and three days elapsed before they +wrote again, enclosing another cable which said that his father had +been shot through the head, had died instantaneously, while fighting +his way out, with his servants, to effect a juncture with a relief +detachment from the American hospital at Marsovan, where his body had +been conveyed and buried. John wondered whether his father lay in +that cemetery where, on a memorable day he had seen him crying over +the grave of his mother. + +During those days of waiting, John realised, more deeply then before, +the meaning of friendship. Vernley and Marsh were always with him. +They said little, for what could they say? They knew that John had +rather they did not touch upon the knowledge so heavy on their +hearts, and sometimes their watchfulness, their eagerness to serve +him brought him to a point of open breakdown. For his own sake John +went on with his form work. It was a slight distraction from the +anxiety of the days that must pass before a letter could come from +Asia Minor. One night, about a week after the receipt of the news, +Vernley and Marsh sat in their study doing their preparation. John +had been sent for by Mr. Fletcher, and had been absent some time. +Vernley looked at his watch. + +"Shall I get supper?" he asked--"Are you finishing?" + +"Yes," replied Marsh, closing his Euripides. "I say, what a +miserable devil old Euripides was; he's always talking about death. +A good job some of his plays were burnt at Alexandria---there were +ninety of 'em. I hate thinking about death." + +"And just now--with poor old Scissors," added Vernley. + +"By the way, Bobbie," said Marsh, flinging one leg over the arm of +his chair, "what's Scissors going to do? I don't like asking him." + +"Do--how do you mean?" + +"His future--you see there's the money question. I don't know much +about his affairs--but Cambridge means money--and I don't know +whether his governor had any--he seemed too jolly for money-making." + +"Oh, he'll have left some--and there's the Exhibition," said Vernley. +Money matters were always easily dismissed in his presence. "He'll +be all right, I expect." + +"Well--we've got to see." + +"But it's no business of ours." + +"It is," retorted Marsh. + +"It is?" asked Vernley. + +"Yes--supposing there is no money?" + +Vernley had never supposed such a thing. He was silent a moment, +thinking. + +"You mean--he must go to Cambridge with us?" + +"Of course--and that's three hundred a year." + +"Three hundred?" said Vernley. He had never realised that so much +was being spent on him. Then quietly, "Well--if old Scissors is +stuck, we'll find it somehow." + +"That's what I'm driving at. Three years at three hundred a year is +nine hundred pounds--and that's college expenses only. It'll mean a +thousand all told." + +"That's nothing--my guvnor'll never miss it. He'd do anything for +Scissors," said Vernley, cutting the cheese. "He'd adopt him and +depose me to-morrow." + +"And there's my governor--he'd want to come in," said Marsh. + +"Well, there you are, that's settled!" Vernley took a large slice of +cucumber. He disposed of money problems just as easily. + +"But it's not settled, my child. You've forgotten the chief person +in the settlement--there's Scissors." + +"Well?" + +"You can take a mule to the water, but you can't make him +drink--suppose he wouldn't be helped?" + +"Oh--he would!--he'd be quite decent about it--he'd know it would +please us. But I don't think we need worry. He's sure to have some +money and there's his relations." + +"From all I've heard of his relations--we've a better chance," +commented Marsh. "I suppose you guessed why Scissors refused the +captaincy of the beagles last winter?" + +"He wanted to work for his Exhibition." + +"It wasn't that--really--he couldn't afford it." + +"How do you know?" + +"I heard him making discreet enquiries as to how much it would +cost--and old Scissors wanted it awfully." + +"I never knew that--I wouldn't have been captain had I known." + +"That's why I didn't tell you," Marsh explained, "but it shows you +that Scissors gets pressed. If he only--" + +"Ssh," whispered Vernley as the door handle rattled. John entered. +He looked worried and carried a letter. + +"News?" asked Marsh eagerly. + +"No--only a letter from the firm--about a job," said John. + +"A job?" queried Vernley. + +"Yes--they've offered me a junior clerkship at £80 a year in case I +need it." He did not add that the wording had cut him to the quick +with its "in excess of the customary figure at which our junior +clerks begin, but in view of probable necessitous circumstances," etc. + +"But you're going up to Cambridge with us!" cried Marsh. + +"Of course, or we don't go," added Vernley. + +"I don't know," said John, sitting down wearily. "It depends,--I may +not be able. I don't know yet how I'm--" + +"If it's a matter of--" began Marsh, when a warning look from Vernley +cut him short. + +"You're sure to hear soon, Scissors--I shouldn't worry yet," said +Vernley. "We're all going up together, we've always said so. You +know if you only think hard enough it always is so." + +"Sounds like the mater and the Higher Thought circle," commented +Marsh, wondering what plan Vernley had suddenly conceived when he +sent that warning signal. + +"Well--anyhow, I could eat something," said John, putting the letter +in his pocket. + +"Righto!--draw up!" said Vernley, passing the bread and cheese. +"Oh--I've written home to say that you'll spend the holidays with us." + +"He won't--at least he'll spend part with me," corrected Marsh. + +"Thanks--but I can't make any plans, you see I don't know what's +going to happen yet." + +"But you must go somewhere, Scissors," cried Vernley lightly. The +moment he had said it, and saw the dumb pain in John's eyes he would +have torn his tongue out to retrieve the careless remark. "Scissors, +I don't mean it that way--you know I don't!" he added desperately. + +"No, I know you don't," agreed John, swallowing hard, and trying to +look steadily back. They ate their supper in silence. Even Marsh's +forced gaiety failed. + + +The weeks leading to the end of the term went swiftly. Bit by bit +the news dribbled through, news of how his father had been +killed--this in a letter from the doctor at the American Mission. +His father had been buried next to his mother at Marsovan, under the +same almond tree whose blossom John could still picture in his mind, +so deeply was the first impression etched. Then later came Mr. Glass +from his father's company, somewhat surprised and hurt at John's +refusal of the clerkship. His father had been insured for £500. +There was that, and a small balance at the bank, not more than £600 +in all. Was he wise in refusing the opening, which would lead, in +years to come, to a very good position? John looked at Mr. Glass, +with his bald head, large stomach and expressionless face, and the +result of success did not appeal to him. Mr. Glass prepared to +depart. + +"Well, you may think better of it, my boy. Your father would have +wished it, I know. I don't see what more we can do for you--but +there, if you do change your mind and need us, we are there, +remember." + +Clumsily done, but well meant, and John realising this, thanked him +and shook the hand extended towards him. After Mr. Glass had gone +Fletcher looked at John. + +"I suppose you intend going up to King's?" he said. "I think you +will pull through all right with care." + +"No, sir, I feel I ought to begin doing what must be done--earn my +living. Six hundred pounds is not much, and I shouldn't feel happy +knowing that I was using it up." + +"But Cambridge may lead to opportunities--a Fellowship--at least a +degree, which is useful. At the worst you can become a--a +schoolmaster." He smiled apologetically for the joke against himself. + +"And meanwhile, sir, make expensive friends and acquire expensive +tastes? Why shouldn't I do the last thing first, and learn whether I +have the inclination." + +"The last?" queried Mr. Fletcher. + +"Yes, sir, I thought of getting a junior mastership--if I could. A +year would not matter greatly. If I failed at that--then I would go +up to Cambridge--it would not be too late." + +"No, but you are wasting a year." + +"Yes, sir, but I want--oh, I feel I must work it all out. I'm afraid +you don't understand, sir," added John lamely. + +"I think I do--this has altered your whole life, or at least you feel +so--nothing really does affect our lives to anything like the extent +we imagine it does. Experience proves that we are always ourselves. +As for a mastership--it is not easy without a degree. I have a +friend at a scholastic agency. If you wish I will write to him--that +is, if you want to take this step. Personally, I advise you to--no, +I won't advise you, John--you must decide for yourself." + +Two weeks after that conversation, John was glad of the step he had +taken. The insurance company had refused to pay the claim; the +policy did not provide for the contingency in which Mr. Dean lost his +life. John's capital now was £132. Mr. Fletcher's friend had +obtained for him a junior mastership at a preparatory school in +Hampshire. + +"Sixty pounds a year, Dean, not much, but still you're a beginner--it +will give you time to think," said Mr. Fletcher, handing him the +letter. John wrote accepting the offer. There were vigorous +protests from Vernley and Marsh. At the end of the term, after a +terrible wrenching from the school, his friends, the Fletchers, and +all the beloved corners and places and daily events of four happy +years, he went down with Vernley to his home. The latter still +believed that John would accompany him to King's. Marsh had gone +home with the same belief. Vernley's faith was based on the ability +of his father to bring John round to common sense. There was a talk +one afternoon in the library that brought a lump into John's throat, +and a mist into his eyes, as he listened to the self-effacing +generosity and kindly plans of the big, bluff man sitting in front of +him. But he remained true to his decision. Mr. Vernley mopped his +brow, hot with the attempt to suggest, as delicately as possible, a +way out, and afraid all the time of hurting the boy's feelings. John +thanked him in a voice that trembled. + +"Well, well, John, you're an obstinate boy, but I won't worry you. +You can do me a great favour by keeping an eye on Bobbie, and you +won't--and I'll owe you a grudge all my life. But if you do want to +give me real pleasure--then come to me whenever you will--I won't say +more than that. You understand, my boy, don't you?" and with that he +placed a kindly hand on the lad's shoulder. "And--'pon my word, I +admire your grit--you're the right stuff!" + +Dismay, blank dismay, was written on Vernley's face when he heard of +the result. It was no use appealing to John--the latter had heard +him to the limit of his patience. Vernley went to Muriel. She could +act when others failed. To his amazement she did not agree. + +"Scissors is quite right. You can say what you like, or put it how +you like, but it's charity, and John would know it, and you would +know--and it might make a difference. I think you're blind." + +"But why?" cried Vernley, plaintively. + +"John refuses to be helped simply because he thinks so much of +us--he's not going to jeopardise his friendship by indebtedness or +reasonable gratitude. But you men never can see these things. Only +a woman understands." + +"Rot!" said Vernley, but he began to understand. That night he wrote +to Marsh. "I shouldn't mention it any more, Scissors can't be +shaken--the Governor's failed, and if your Governor tried he might +suspect a plot and throw us all over. Perhaps we'll have a chance +later. School teaching's a hell of a life." True to his advice, +Marsh dropped his own scheme, in which his father had concurred. +When John arrived to spend September at the Vicarage the choice John +had made was not opposed. They had a jolly holiday, jolly in so far +as John, with the momentous events of the last two months in his +mind, could be light-hearted. Often he looked into the future and +sometimes was seized by despair at its hopelessness. It was not the +task confronting him. Earning a living was the common lot of men, +and the one in which they found most happiness. It was his +loneliness, the apparent futility of his life. He was alone. That +was the awful thought. This great, passionate world, and of all its +millions, not one inseparably bound to him, to rise or fall with his +success or failure! Ungenerous, perhaps, this thought. He had +friends, such friends too! But the possession of friendship meant +independence; he was not going to be behind and be pulled along in +the race of life. They should have no cause to be sorry for him; +rather would he have them eager to know him, to cherish his +friendship the more for the success that he brought with it. He was +of a class that found it easier to do a favour than receive one. He +spent his life seeking, not a way out, but a way through. He was now +braced for the contest, and the sternness of it exhilarated him with +the freshness of a morning sea. He was diving from a great height of +sunlit friendship into the cold sea of life. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I + +In the art prospectus, printed on a glazed paper with many choice +illustrations, Chawley School was a perfect place. The school, once +a manor, celebrated for its architectural beauty, was situated in a +magnificent park of five acres, with an ornamental lake and a drive +one mile long. The gardens in front of the house were extensive and +well kept. One of the illustrations showed fifty small boys, all +dressed alike, in grey shorts and blue flannel jackets, with grey +socks with red tops, and straw hats with red bands, squatted on the +splendid lawn, all showing bended bare knees and round happy faces. +In their midst were three masters, one middle-aged and two quite +young, and a lady. The letterpress under this charming picture of +sunlit foliage and smiling humanity, said "Afternoon Tea." The +prospectus also mentioned the covered swimming pool in the grounds, +the boys' own garden, the large airy dormitories and class rooms. It +then drew rapturous attention to the staff. The school was run by +the Rev. Shayle Tobin, M.A., Scholar of Balliol College, Oxford, with +a double first, a blue for cricket, and for some years famous as a +half-back. + +One Sunday morning, six head boys, conscious of leadership and the +great world of a public school approaching, shuffled their feet in +the Manor pew in the village church. Behind them in other pews sat +other little boys, more angelic in appearance and devilish in action. +They were all dressed alike, in black Eton jackets, white collars, +grey trousers and shoes. Even at the tender age of ten to thirteen +their faces gave promise or otherwise. The new young assistant +master who sat guarding them in the third pew found himself studying, +during the dreary sermon, the shapes of the heads ranged in front of +him like turnips on a table. There were long heads, round heads, +oval, pointed, blunt, flat and dinted. Handsome, well-made, ugly, +emaciated, intelligent, stupid, good-natured, deceitful, mischievous +and lovable. John Dean ranged up and down the row. This was his +first Sunday morning in church. It was his Sunday on duty; the other +assistant master had gone into Southampton. + +The young assistant master was not the only critical person letting +his thoughts wander from the Harvest Festival Sermon. John gazed +abstractedly at the figure of the Rev. Samuel Piggin, ringed round +with bunches of carrots, a few grapes and six tomatoes balanced on +the top of a sheaf of wheat, which demonstrated God's bounty, despite +a ruinously wet summer and a harvest, half of which lay rotting in +the fields. + +Miss Piggin, twenty-nine years of age, with spectacles, and ardent in +romance, was quite thrilled by the first glimpse, as she turned to +the East in the recital of the Creed, of the handsome young master. +His profile would have enhanced the wrapper of those shilling +reprints to which, for want of romance, she was addicted. Nor was +she alone in her sudden interest. Several young ladies sitting +behind John found great fascination in the clean curve from the nape +of the neck up to the wavy brown head. Other younger ladies, +favourably placed in the side pews, could not have been more +fascinated had Apollo himself renounced his pagan origin and come to +church. The proud mouth, the dark eyes, the fine brow surmounted by +a wavy mass of chestnut hair, the whole poised on an athlete's +shoulders, were attractions against which the sermon competed in +vain. The doctor's daughter, for three years determined to be a +missionary's wife, found her gaze wandering from the altar to the +school pew. + +One little boy with a freckled face and a genius for mischief, ceased +making chewed pellets from a hymn sheet when he noticed the rapt +attention directed towards the pew in which he sat. He nudged the +boy at his side, and both, suddenly conscious of the suppressed +excitement that flowed over them, sniggered and brought a reproof +from their new master. Something in the freckled boy's mute mirth as +he looked at him, caused John to turn round, when he met the troubled +gaze of a dozen pairs of amorous eyes. He quickly turned again and +felt the blood mounting to his neck and face. The little boys +sniggered again. John made a mental note not to the little boys' +advantage. Miss Piggin also made one--to call when her father paid +his formal visit; and not to be outwitted, the doctor's daughter +decided she would motor in with her father on Monday morning, when he +paid his usual visit to examine all the boys at the beginning of term. + +Hitherto missionaries had absorbed her hero-worship, but then, +assistant masters, as a class, had not seemed attractive. The former +master drank, to the scandal of the village, which met him in the bar +of the "Red Cow" where he grossly libelled all those, and their +wives, who kept preparatory schools. His predecessor had a squint, +the one before was lame, and the one before him was an old man of +sixty, who had suddenly and most inconveniently died of bronchitis in +term time. Sixty pounds a year and free board somewhat limited the +available supply of assistant masters. Messrs. Sloggart and +Slingsby, the scholastic agents, had told the Rev. Mr. Tobin that +they were afraid he would have to add another ten pounds. + +John liked Mr. Tobin on first contact. He was a man of about fifty +years of age, with, a tanned face and kindly blue eyes. The famous +athlete was fast disappearing in a bulky schoolmaster, who added +weight each term with considerable anxiety, coupled with a feeling +that his appearance at least was a good advertisement of the school. +He had a genuine love of boys and worked hard with them, being strict +and kind, with a determination to do his best for them! The boys, in +fact, were watched day and night; convicts would not have had closer +attention, and the same supervision extended to the two assistant +masters. + +Mr. Tobin had little imagination, and the whole of it had been +expended in the prospectus. + +The grounds of Chawley School were certainly extensive. The former +tenant, like the present, had found them too much so, and let them go +wild. The lawns on the front part of the house were kept tidy; +elsewhere the walks were weed-grown. The ornamental lake stank, and +might have been the death place of Shelley's "Sensitive Plant." The +prospectus mentioned boating on the lake as one of the diversions of +the fortunate boys. The only boat was an old punt, one end of which +had been long submerged among the water lilies. It was the floating +end that appeared in the prospectus photograph. Afternoon tea on the +lawn was also slightly different from the photograph. Three quarters +of the boys had never been on the lawn. Every Sunday, as a reward, +six top form boys, with the assistant master, were invited to tea +with Mrs. Tobin on the lawn. A fear of her presence was mingled with +the love of her cake, and had the boys had a free will in the matter +they had rather not have been rewarded. + +Mrs. Tobin was a tall woman of about forty-eight years. She was cold +and looked at people with eagle eyes. Her voice was deep, her +features gaunt, framed in straight brown hair brushed severely back. +She had the full equipment of a bishopric's conventions and never +forgot her very reverend origin. She was the business woman, and +constantly reminded her husband of the fact. She knew that to make a +school pay, it required at least fifty boys. All over that number +represented profit. Chawley School had forty-nine boys. She lived +her days as though on the edge of a precipice. Mr. Tobin, as became +a sportsman, delighted in feeding his boys, and invited them to a +second helping of favourite puddings. Fortunate youngsters who sat +at his end of the table! At Mrs. Tobin's end a second request did +not bring a refusal, but, "Are you sure you have not had sufficient?" +John, who struggled desperately with his pies, found a problem in the +differential calculus easier than the elementary mathematics required +for cutting a pie into fourteen portions to the satisfaction of +twelve hungry boys. + +Often, when his fourteenth turn came he received a small piece of pie +crust as his share. Sawley, a sharp little fellow who sat at John's +right, soon noticed this and generously offered his share. "We get +more than usual now, sir," he explained. "Why don't you serve +yourself first? The other masters always did." + +"Masters?" queried John. "Why how many masters have you had?" + +The boy smiled, then looked cautiously round to Mrs. Tobin's table. + +"Six, sir," he whispered. + +"And how long have you been here?" + +"Six terms, sir." + +John's heart sank. + +"I don't expect you'll stay--will you, sir?" asked the boy in a burst +of confidence. + +John snubbed him, in duty bound. So he was one of a procession! He +began to understand the bubbling curiosity which his arrival had +aroused. His arrival! That had marked the end of a long mood of +despondency which began as soon as he had left the cheerful faces of +the Marshs. The misery he had endured in the three-mile ride from +the station to the school! Peering out of the window he watched the +long road with its straggling cottages, brown and gold in their +autumnal creepers. Then the village stores with a fat man looking +curiously at the school cab, next a rise and on the other side a +glimpse, through the trees, of Chawley School, fronted by a broad +stream and bordered by rook-haunted elm trees. As the cab drew up at +the main door, the Rev. Shayle Tobin came to greet him. His box was +taken up and he followed the head master into the wide hall. There +was no furniture in it except a round mahogany table with an electro +plate card tray, and a hat stand. The head-master's living +apartments opened off on the right, and a wide corridor traversed the +whole length of the building. John was led to the left, which +contained the class rooms. If anything more had been needed to +depress him the room, somewhat grandly called the Masters' Common +Room, would have done it. + +"We have not had time to get straight yet. The Matron will make this +more comfortable soon," Tobin said. There was certainly room for +improvement. A worn carpet covered the floor. On the left side +stood a small table covered with a crimson cloth stained with ink. +The wall paper was a faded, patternless drab colour. There were two +chairs, one a basket chair with a short leg, the other a stiff +Sheraton. There were no pictures on the walls, the fire grate had +two broken bars and no fender. + +The head-master next led the way to John's bedroom. This appeared to +be a great improvement. The size of the room, in contrast to the +Common Room, made John feel more lonely than ever, and he shuddered +when he thought of winter mornings. But it was well furnished in a +heavy mid-Victorian manner. There was a white, marble-topped wash +stand with a red-flowered jug and basin, a large swinging mirror and +wardrobe. The carpet was faded but good. This at least was an +endurable room and he could live in it. + +It was shortly before tea on the first day of term that John met his +colleague. Gerald Woodman, a scholar of St. John's College, Oxford, +was tall and heavily built for his twenty-five years. He appeared +much older because of his great reserve and a perpetual melancholy. +He had dark hair and dark eyes, an enormous appetite and no +sentiment. In his short life he had arrived at a creed of absolute +cynicism. He talked with reluctance, but John found later that at +heart he was a good fellow whose foibles were the inheritance of a +period of religious mania. He was now a robust atheist. The Church +no longer seemed a desirable refuge; he had become a schoolmaster. +Although fourteen stone in weight, he was possessed by a fear of +starvation and deplored his thinness; when in cricket flannels, his +thighs wobbled so much that all the boys grinned, but even this did +not reassure him. + +John had recently passed through the brief pimply period inseparable +from youth, and in desperation one day bought a bottle containing +five hundred blood pills. As if alarmed at the prospect, the pimples +immediately disappeared. Mr. Woodman saw the pills on John's +dressing table and asked if he might have a few to set his blood in +order. John gave him them. Those pills probably saved the first +assistant master from a second nervous breakdown. He swallowed five +after each meal and declared with deep satisfaction that he was +putting on weight; he was optimistic until the bottle was finished, +when his habitual melancholy returned. + +Their first evening at Chawley School was spent in a conference with +the Head-master who drew up the curriculum. The hours were arranged +between them. John received one afternoon per week off duty and the +alternate Sundays. The class hours were 8:30 a.m. to 11, a break of +half an hour during which they supervised games, then 11:30 to 1 p.m. +An hour for lunch, then work until 3 p.m. Games followed until five, +a period during which John changed into football shorts and raced +about the field in a scrimmage of shouting boys. He enjoyed this and +quite forgot all his woes. Tea was at five, a blessed interval of +one hour's peace, then school again until 7:30, when the boys went up +to bed. Dinner, in the household apartments, with Mrs. Tobin in an +evening gown and facetiously cheerful, was at eight. After dinner +the two masters left the rosy warmth of the dining room for their own +bare quarters, where the interval between dinner and bedtime was +spent in the correction of the day's exercise books; a monotonous +routine, dulling the senses, and demoralizing human beings with its +hopelessness. There was no sense of advancement. The end of the +term came slowly, then the holidays, then term again, with the same +subjects to drill into the same reluctant little boys. + +Mr. Woodman, in a voice of deepest melancholy, foretold all this on +the first night. When he learned that John was new to his profession +he smiled at him like a butcher on a good sheep delivered for +slaughter. + +"Whatever made you do it?" he asked. "Do anything, be a scavenger, a +policeman--you will at least retain your self respect. You will not +have to endure the chilliness of schoolmasters' wives, the scorn of +parents, the buffoonery of boys. We are fools out of motley, +something masquerading as gentlemen on the stipend of stevedores. My +God, Dean, pack your trunk and flee to-night. This is the end of all +things. Have you dreams, ambitions, hope, courage, youth? Abandon +all who enter this profession!" + +John remonstrated. There was the great opportunity of forming +character, surely it was a noble thing to teach the young, to gain +the confidence, if not the affection of boys, to watch them grow in +intelligence, to trace the operations of their fresh minds slowly +opening on a wonderful world? Mr. Woodman listened patiently to +John's panegyric, and peered at him over the top of the gold-rimmed +spectacles he wore when correcting exercise books in the jumping +incandescent light. + +"Dear me! This is almost pathetic! Your innocence moves me. I hope +you will pardon my saying you must be very young. Eighteen? Ah! +that is a blessed age, but you have yet to learn what boys are. Let +me warn you and save you much pain. They are devils incarnate. And +don't cherish any illusion about being a schoolmaster. We are a race +of pariahs. At forty we have no feelings left; we are desiccated +text books. At fifty we are old fools haunting the doorsteps of the +scholastic agents or short-sightedly sitting on the prepared pins of +our loving pupils. Don't think you will receive any gratitude for +your labour; you won't. Your cheque at the end of term wipes out all +obligations. After three years' close attention, they are not even +your boys. They pass on to a public school and repudiate you. Boys +are sent to preparatory schools by lazy parents who wish to get rid +of the responsibility of their offspring, or by upstarts who want to +start the new generation in the grooves of social respectability. +They will hold you in utter contempt because you cannot do anything +better than bring up their children for them. Epictetus was a prince +in comparison with the modern schoolmaster!" + +Woodman's theory, nevertheless, was not strictly applied. He was +firm with his boys, made them work hard and was a martinet in detail, +but he was a sportsman and the boys responded to his sense of fair +play. As for John, by the third day of term, he was devoted to them, +although hating more and more the dreary routine of his life. It was +fascinating to study this dozen or so of young lives given into his +keeping, to note the amazing divergence of character which manifested +itself so early. John found himself looking through them to the +parents beyond. He had a perfect index to the home life and the +characters that had influenced them. The generous boy and the +greedy, the frank and the secretive, the imaginative and the stolid, +the sharp and the dull, the graceful, the strong, the quick, the +ugly, the slow, the boy of bright honour, and the boy with a tendency +to deceit, the potential coward or hero--they were all here in +embryo. Education after all was only a wind that could bend the +branches, it could not change the nature of the plant. + + + +II + +At the end of the first week, John was in a highly nervous condition. +The monotony of the work, the regularity of the hours, the seclusion +in a small world, the absence of all friends and his isolation miles +away from all who knew him and with whom he could talk intimately, +preyed upon his mind until one evening he reached a point of frenzy. +He banged down a pile of exercise books, kicked a cushion vigorously, +and then swore at the wall, from the other side of which came sounds +of a small boy practising Czerny's One Hundred and One Exercises for +the pianoforte. Woodman watched this outburst of wild rage with +amusement. + +"Beat your wings, my poor little moth! You will soon tire and +subside--we have all passed along that _via dolorosa_," he commented. + +"It is unendurable!" cried John, flinging himself in a chair. + +"The capacity of man to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous +fortu--" + +"Oh, shut up!" snapped John. Woodman regarded him sympathetically. +He had grown to like this bright lad, so freshly enthusiastic, and +bit by bit he had learned his story. In exchange he had shown John +some of the poetry which he wrote secretly. Strangely enough it was +highly sentimental, the safety valve of suppressed romanticism. + +"Come on to the lake," he urged. John followed. It was their +favourite pastime. They had resurrected the old punt, and in danger +of a wetting, they often pushed it along through the thick water +lilies that bent under its prow, and slowly closed again on the track +they made. Meanwhile, the rooks, watching them from the elms above, +cawed loudly, and the water hens showed alarm. The two masters +became incredibly young once they were in the punt. They rocked it +to see how near shipwreck they could go; they sang in a loud voice +all the absurd ditties they could remember. Had their young charges +seen and heard them, it would have been an amazing revelation of the +humanity of masters out of school. As it was, Mr. Tobin complained +that some of their noise had carried across the lawns to the open +dormitory windows. But they simply had to sing; it was their one +outlet of pent up youth within them. They would punt about until the +dusk had given place to darkness, when the elms seemed gigantic and a +rising moon peered in between the branches and watched the rippling +reflection of her light. Around them all was quiet save for the +weird squeal of a weasel in the woodland or the melancholy hoot of an +owl. + +One evening John was more noisy than ever, and Woodman threatened to +capsize him, but there was good reason for this exhilaration. The +mail had brought an acceptance of a long poem from the Editor of the +_British Review_. He had written in competition with Woodman, who +urged him to send it to an editor. With no faith, but some hope, +John obeyed. His surprise, when the acceptance came, was unbounded. +It was a long satirical story in the manner of Masefield. John had +feared it was too long, for it took twenty pages, and here were the +proof sheets and the offer of three guineas for his work! Those +proof sheets kept him in a state of elation for several days. He had +never seen himself in print except in the school magazine, and here +was a great review printing his work! John cashed the cheque and +ordered one pound's worth of copies of the review when it came out, +which he distributed among his friends at some cost. Then he must +see the reviewers' comments, and another guinea went to a +press-cutting agency, which sent all the advertisements containing +his name, and one criticism, if the slightly disparaging dismissal +could be termed a criticism--"Mr. John Dean contributes some verses +of a satirical nature." The net profit on the transaction was five +shillings and sixpence which John invested in paper and envelopes. +He had tasted printers' ink. John had seen a way out. He subscribed +to the _Bookman_, devoured the _Times Literary Supplement_, and +enquired the cost of joining the Society of Authors. + + +By the middle of November, with its dark winter nights when the wind +howled among the chimneys, swayed the leafless branches, scurried +along the cold flags of the corridors and rattled the shutters of the +school-room windows, John had reached a point of nervous desperation. +One night he beat his hands on the walls of his room in mere foolish +impotence of rage. Even the placid Woodman, swallowing blood pills +and putting on weight, became alarmed. There was an intensity in +John's despair that made him apprehensive. It was in vain that he +encouraged his literary work and discussed the novel which John had +begun as a distraction, but had now discarded. He dragged him out +for long walks down the bleak country lanes, but could not get him to +talk. He was thin, with rings under his eyes, and the rose-red of +healthy youth in his cheeks had given place to a hectic flush. He +had moments of hilarious mirth, as alarming and as unnatural as his +despair, and one night he had aroused Woodman in his bedroom, +declaring he could not sleep alone in his room any longer and begged +to be allowed to sleep on the couch. Woodman assented gladly but he +was awakened later by a sound of sobbing in the darkness. He lit a +candle and leaned up on his elbow. + +"Dean--my dear fellow--you must not go on like this--you'll make +yourself ill." + +He heard John clear his voice. + +"I know--I'm a fool--I'm horribly ashamed of myself--but--but, oh, my +God, I am wretched." + +"Why, you silly old thing, this morning you were making your boys +yell with laughter." + +"And got snubbed by Tobin for it," retorted John. "Put out the +light, Woodman--I'll behave--and thanks awfully." + +Woodman doused the candle with the matchbox. In the morning John was +normal again. Neither made any allusion to the scene in the night. +It was a bad dream. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +There were now rapid phases to John's character. He was beginning to +apprehend all the wonderful interests of the world, interests from +which he was being boxed up. He longed for the sound of a woman's +voice and a glimpse of beauty; a violent nostalgia seized him. The +mention of Asia Minor in the geography lesson--and he was leagues +away swinging his bare legs on a verandah shaded with almond blossom, +hearing the singing of the stream down the gorge at Amasia, watching +the light silver, the waterfall as the moon came over the mountain +cliff and flooded the valley. He recalled his father reading to him; +he could hear the clatter of his pony's hoofs in the courtyard, hear +Ali calling him out to play, Ali his bosom friend, whose last gift +now lay on his chest, whence he had never removed it. Or he would be +suddenly transported to Sedley by the sight of a familiar dictionary, +and again sit working and chattering with Vernley and Marsh in their +study. His longing for his friends increased with the passing days. +Vernley wrote faithfully, chronicling doings at Cambridge, sometimes +unconsciously causing pain by the enthusiastic mention of a new name, +which John felt was taking the place of his own. + +As anticipated, Marsh was a great success. In the freer atmosphere +of the university he had blossomed into a man of power and influence. +He had already made a brilliant debut at the Union, and prophets +talked of him as a future President--"Marsh says the office would be +yours for the asking, there is no one here who could stand up with +you--and I agree; why on earth don't you come, you dear old obstinate +Scissors!" John was almost persuaded, but pride held him back. He +must work out his own salvation--a memory of Browning helped him: + + "_But after they will know me. If I stoop + Into a dark tremendous sea of doubt, + It is but for a time; I press God's lamp + Close to my heart; its splendour, soon or late, + Will pierce the gloom; I shall emerge one day._" + +Was he a coward? He had a fear of poverty, and an almost desperate +fear of the future at times. He was immersed in the poetry of +Shelley and Keats, and soon was longing ardently to die of +consumption in Italy, long before he would be twenty-six. In another +mood his ambition carried him to dizzy heights. Recollections of +talks with Mr. Ribble came back. Downing Street was not such an +impossibility after all. He could speak. What had Vernley said in +his last letter? And Mr. Steer had written to him about his article +on "The Rise of Naturalism in English Poetry" which had appeared in +the _Blue Review_, and asked him to be sure to call when next in +London, in order that he might meet "some of your contemporaries"! +From that day on London began to call him. That was the battlefield. +Woodman agreed. "This is a dead end," he said, "but useful for the +future." + +"Useful, how?" asked John. + +"You're getting material to write about. Think what a story's here +for you one day, when you look back. You'll smile then." + +Gradually John's mood of desperation passed. The problems of life +was yet to be solved or attempted, but he was young. He had intense +ambition, good health, friends, and certain qualities which secured +him notice. He became aware that he possessed what men call a +personality; there was something that made persons ready to do him a +service, and this asset was the latest of his discoveries. At the +Vicarage, Miss Piggin had proved her friendship. She left him books; +she knew something about art, having spent two terms at Newlyn; at +least she knew the various schools of art, the names of the galleries +in London, and the queer methods employed for achieving success. + +For the first time he heard of the Vorticiste and the mad young men +of the Backyard Gallery, which specialised in chimneyscapes and +exalted the hideous. She told him of energetic young James Squilson, +one part artist, and two parts publicist, the one part being good, +the others impudent. The good was at present carefully hidden, while +his monstrosities had created sufficient of an outcry to make those +beardless Jews, Messrs. Riverton, give him a one-man show at the +Trafford Galleries. This exhibition, Miss Piggin said, was a great +success. Society flocked to it and declared it unique. It bought +enigmatical canvases at fifty guineas each, which were cheap, +considering they were fashionable and provocative of discussions at +dinner parties. Major Slade, a charming man, who liked having +artists to dinner, bought several and felt like a connoisseur for six +months, which was as long as he liked any sensation. Squilson's +third exhibition cooled Slade's waning enthusiasm. The perverse +fellow had become an artist. His paintings might have been accepted +by the Royal Academy. When Squilson declared, to the horror of +society, that he would not object to being accepted, Slade dropped +him and gave away his works as wedding presents. + +Miss Piggin was musical also; she played Bach and cultivated an +enthusiasm for Scriabine. John found that his musical intelligence +ceased after Debussy--Ravel was his breaking point, although +Stravinsky's _L'oiseau de Feu_ seemed to give him a prospect of a new +land where the animals were articulate. + +John became rather a frequent visitor to the Vicarage. Mr. Woodman +was asked to dinner also, but he was asked as a companion, and was +useful in occupying Piggin's attention. Miss Piggin, accustomed to +the role of hostess since her mother's death, devoted her attention +to John. Formerly on festive occasions she had asked her friend, the +the doctor's daughter, to assist her. She decided that she could +manage well enough with such obliging young men. Miss Piggin also +found a new incentive to dress rather better than usual. The sleepy +life of a country Vicarage had caused her to become somewhat lax in +the past; it was no use being a fashion plate when there was no one +to notice. Now, however, she made a surprising resurrection; even +the village publican commented on it, as also poor little Miss Timis, +called in to do the sewing. + +Although Miss Piggin was well aware that nature had not been lavish +at her birth, she knew that fashion has given woman a good frame for +an indifferent picture. Short sighted, out of doors she wore +spectacles, but these were discarded in the evening. She was +troubled with chilblains on her hands, it is true, but she had a +wonderfully fresh complexion for a young woman of nearly thirty. +John in fact thought she was about twenty-three, though she seemed to +have seen a lot in her short life. But she could talk and had an +eager interest in literature, of which she was no mean critic. As an +artist she was sufficiently good to merit her asking John to sit to +her, which he did, getting an ache in the neck, while she made a very +idealised drawing of him. It was a little trying, for the sitting +which he had been told would require a few hours, ran into weeks. +Miss Piggin seemed everlastingly taking out the next day what she had +achieved with such elation the previous day. The eyes and the mouth +caused the most trouble. These required several visits from the +easel for close study. His hair was comparatively easy, for she +could arrange it to fall as it suited her. She told John he had +sensitive nostrils and a perfect, but sensuous mouth. + +"Not sensual?" he said laughing. + +"It might become that--yet," she replied. + +It was good fun and he liked the little teas they made in the studio, +with the aid of a gas ring. Afterwards he insisted on washing up +while she dried the tea things. It was a domestic moment and it gave +Miss Piggin a thrill; he looked so fascinating with his sleeves +rolled up above the elbows. Once, when he dozed while sitting, she +had hoped that he would fall fast asleep. She would just kiss his +head as it lay, with its tumbled hair, on the side of the chair. But +he aroused himself, and Miss Piggin was grateful that she was saved +from being so foolish. + +She held John from a nervous breakdown. She took him for lone walks +and encouraged him to talk. He found his idea of going to London to +write, eagerly supported. What to write he hardly knew. Miss Piggin +suggested journalism. She had met quite a lot of journalists near +her rooms at Hampstead. They seemed very jolly and not hard-worked. +It was true they had small private incomes or self-sacrificing +parents. She gave John the address of a boarding house in Pimlico. +If he went to London, he would find it cheap but not nasty. + +It was on one of these walks one day an incident occurred that +thrilled her with a revelation of the male in action. They were on a +narrow and muddy road when a cart came into view, with a red-faced +youth lolling on the top of a load. Although there was no space for +the two walkers to stand in, he drove his cart forward, jamming them +up against the wall and spattering them with mud. Miss Piggin gave a +cry of despair at the sight of her muddy skirt. With a quick +movement John ran to the horse's head, seized the rein and pulled up +the cart. + +"Why don't you look where you are going?" he shouted angrily. + +The lout blinked at him. + +"Shut yer ---- mouth." + +John flushed and tightened his grip. + +"You'll get down and apologise to the lady," he said firmly. Another +flow of indecent language. + +"Let go that ---- rein!" finished the carter. + +"I shall not. Come down!" retorted John. + +The carter raised his whip and brought the lash down across John's +shoulders and neck. The horse reared, John started forward, seized +the dangling leg of his aggressor, and brought him sprawling down +into the muddy road. He was up in a minute bellowing obscenely with +rage. John dodged the blow directed at his mouth. + +"I'll fight yer! I'll fight yer, yer--" yelled the carter stamping +around. John slipped off his coat and waistcoat; the carter followed +suit. + +"Oh, Mr. Dean, please, please!" implored Miss Piggin from the mound +on which she had taken refuge. John's answer was to fling his +discarded clothes into her arms. She looked around, meaning to +shriek, but as no one was in sight it seemed useless. Meanwhile the +battle had begun. The antagonists were as different in appearance as +they were in method. The carter was a heavily built youth of about +twenty. He was sandy-haired with a tanned face and neck. His arms +were muscular, and the gaping shirt revealed a hairy chest. He was a +fellow not likely to be knocked out, especially by the lightly built, +slim youth, who looked almost delicate in contrast. + +Could this determined, lithe fighter make any impression on an +opponent so firmly built and muscular? Miss Piggin thought not, and +began to think of intervention with her umbrella; but she might poke +the wrong person. She was cheered to notice how quick her champion +was. It was a contest between speed with intelligence and strength +with obstinacy. Mr. Dean might set the pace, but would he wear down +this bulwark of seasoned flesh? They had both received blows, and +the nose of the slim youth was bleeding. The other, however, was +also bleeding at the mouth. Miss Piggin felt faint and yet thrilled +at the sight of these flushed youths, their hair falling into their +eyes, one breathing hard, and the other looking implacably fierce. +It reminded her of a fight she had witnessed between two stags on +Exmoor. There was something exhilarating in the spectacle, though +horrible. + +Considerable in-fighting followed which evidently distressed the +carter. Although Miss Piggin could not determine who was getting the +blows--they were bent down together--the carter was letting forth +"oughs" and "ahs" either as expressions of satisfaction or of +receipt. The carter had opened with a wild but weighty swinging of +the arms, which the other cautiously avoided. One blow from those +sculpturesque forearms would have rendered him hors-de-combat. He +waited his opportunity, backing slowly until he secured a favourable +opening. One fist landed over the carter's eye. He grunted but his +progress was not impeded. The next moment they had clinched, for +which Miss Piggin felt grateful. She would have left them in this +harmless position, if she could, until she had returned with the +village constable. She now stood with bated breath, for when they +broke away some one would receive a blow. + +Here John's small supply of ringcraft, gathered in Sedley gymnasium, +came into play. He used the clinch to rest himself upon the bulk of +the carter, who pushed him around, tiring himself. Then seizing a +propitious moment, he threw off his assailant's arms, feinted to the +left cheek, and swung in with a sharp upper cut with the right. It +caught the carter neatly under the chin, lifted him and sent his head +back. He went down heavily with a lost balance. John walked round +till his opponent was ready to rise. His blood was up, there was a +grim expression on his face, and Miss Piggin, catching a glimpse of +his steely eyes, cold and fierce under the mop of disordered hair, +changed in her alarm. She feared now for the life of the carter, +raised up on his elbow and contemplating things. + +"Oh, Mr. Dean!" she whimpered. + +He continued to walk round as though he had not heard. The carter +painfully rose to his feet, and then with a torrent of abuse, rushed +in mad fury at the waiting foe. A right from the shoulder caught +John on the chest, breaking his guard, and sent him down to his knees +with its sheer strength. The carter had no code to obey and was +ready to follow up his advantage, but in this he was unwary. John +waited until he stood over him, and with a crouching spring came up +under the raw fellow's guard, reaching his chin again with some +force. Shaken and somewhat dismayed with this surprising return of +an apparently beaten adversary, he began to retreat, and John, still +full of battle, saw his chance. There was some swift in-fighting +which Miss Piggin could not follow, because now the amount of blood +visible on both antagonists made her feel ill. She turned her head +away. When she looked again, it was all over, John stood surveying +the huddled up form of the beaten youth. + +"Can you get up?" he asked coolly. The voice was almost cruel in its +tone, thought Miss Piggin. Then John stooped and pulled the sullen +fellow to his feet. They stood facing one another for a long +interval. + +"Will you shake hands?" said John, extending his. There was no +response for a moment. + +"Yer...." snarled the carter, his eyes still full of battle. + +"I'm sorry then," said John unrolling his sleeves. There must have +been something crossing the slow brain of the carter. His eyes +changed expression. + +"Yer've won ... boss," he said slowly. John heard the changed tone +and again held out his hand. The carter took it. + +But peace had left them both strange spectacles. The horse even +seemed a little afraid of its master, and turned its head as he +approached. He was wiping his face, which had begun to swell, with a +red handkerchief. John was doing likewise. The absurdity of the +whole affair was intensified in the process. Miss Piggin now +approached and offered a diminutive handkerchief, which John +accepted, for his own was soaked by a persistent nose. The right eye +was slowly closing up. + +Without further comment the carter took his horse's head and led it +off down the road. As John looked up and caught Miss Piggin's +piteous expression, he could not help laughing. + +"I suppose I look a beautiful object?" + +"Oh, Mr. Dean!" was all she could say. If only he would faint now, +all was safe! Her womanly instinct for nursing the brave rose within +her. She would dearly have loved to hold him in her arms and bathe +his face, and tidy his hair. But romance gave place to the practical. + +"You must come to the Vicarage first--you can't return like that." + +"No--I can't--but I want washing now before it dries," he replied. +There was a canal bordering the next field; the road led over the +canal bridge. The Vicarage was two miles away. + +"I'm going to swim in the canal!" he said. + +Miss Pilgrim shivered at the idea. "It's terribly cold!" she cried. +"You will get a chill." + +"It's the tonic I want," he replied. "You stand on the bridge. I +can strip underneath if you'll keep watch." + +He led the way, and left her on the bridge. What an amazing man! A +minute or so later she heard a splash, and shivered sympathetically +in the cold November wind. She could not help just looking over the +bridge a moment, and caught a glimpse of white shoulders, a dark +head, and the strong arms thrashing the grey water into a foamy +track. Then he turned and she looked away. + +When he came up and joined her on the bridge later, he looked +marvellously refreshed. It was true his eye had closed up but most +of the horror of the battle had been the blood. + +"But how have you dried yourself?" she asked, as he squeezed his hair +with his hands. + +He laughed at her with his merry eye--the right one, still visible. + +"On my shirt." + +She blushed crimson. Men had shirts, as she knew, but it was awkward +to be told so by men. They walked home through the barren copse, +burning red on the horizon where the sun left the winter day. For +one person these were the woods of Broceliande, and her heart warmed +towards the young knight fresh from the battle. + + +Mr. Woodman's expression, at the appearance of John just in time for +tea in the study, was a mixture of surprise and disapproval. + +"My dear fellow--" he began. "You have not been fighting? An +assistant master! Whatever will Tobin say? Don't eat all that +toast--here's the fork, make your own--he will want a full +explanation of that eye. What an eye!" + +John briefly recounted the episode. + +"I should leave out Miss Piggin," said Woodman. + +"Why?" + +"Tobin strongly disapproves of masters walking about the country with +young ladies, and as for fighting for them like bulls in a herd..." + +"Oh, stop ragging. What's the best for a black eye?" + + + + +BOOK IV + +LIFE + + + +CHAPTER I + + +I + +Two young men stood on a country platform saying good-bye to each +other. One was bound for Cambridge, the other for London. Two +trunks were in charge of the porter, but neither of these belonged to +the bronzed young fellow who took his seat in the train. For +although London was his destination, he had as much foreknowledge of +his actual resting place in that metropolis as had Mr. Richard +Whittington many years before him. The latter was supposed to have +brought a cat with him; the young man in the carriage had no cat. He +had health and ambition, also one hundred and twenty pounds in the +bank. He had been able to save the whole of his salary for the +second and final term at Chawley School, which he had left at Easter, +to the sorrow of the boys, who had marked their adoration with some +tears, and a presentation set of "Shelley's Poems." He had taken a +bold step, highly applauded by Mr. Gerald Woodman. He had sacrificed +an income of sixty pounds a year, with board, lodging and washing, +for the uncertainty of London. + +But there was no regret in his heart on this lovely spring morning. +The song of the lark mounting to a southern cloud, the sense of +budding things in hedge and tree, the sharp air, and the exuberance +of his friend, Bobbie Vernley, all augured well for the adventure. + +"You have given me a great time, Bobbie," he said, looking on the +good-natured face of his friend. "Don't forget to tell Marsh to +write, and let me have all the news. I will write as soon as I get +my rooms." + +There was a slamming of doors, the screech of the engine whistle, a +final handshake, a look in Vernley's eyes that told him much, and +they were parted again. + +John sat back in the seat and watched the familiar station glide +away. Somehow this place always marked the beginning and end of +things. When next he came how would he stand--a success or a +failure? He had weighed anchor and was putting to sea. He had +youth, one hundred and twenty pounds, and determination. + +Opening a note book, he glanced through a list of addresses which +gave him a little comfort. He knew a few persons in London. There +was Mr. Steer, and a renewal of his acquaintance warmed him with +joyous expectation. There was Mrs. Graham, to whom he was +confidential, and who, looking in upon his dreams knew to what starry +pinnacles he aspired. Muriel had insisted on an early call on Mr. +Ribble, but John felt doubtful. A busy politician would find +courtesy and kindliness heavily taxed if every stray youth seeing +London rang his door bell. But he made one promise to call formally. +There was a hope of companionship in the presence in town of Lindon, +who had just left Balliol to study at the Royal Academy of Music, but +a certain shyness still hung over his relations with that brilliant +person. There was something he never quite understood, a reservation +in manner, if not in speech, which told John theirs could never be an +equal friendship. Somehow he always felt the debtor to Lindon, +perhaps owing to his manner. Despite his cordiality, his obvious +liking of John's company, the latter always felt diffident; perhaps +now he would learn to know Lindon better, relieved of the halo of a +schoolboy's worship. + +Interleaving his note book was Miss Piggin's card, and on it, in a +pointed Italian hand, the address of a boarding house she +recommended. "Mrs. Perdie, 108, Mariton Street, S.W." In his +pocket, John carried another specimen of Miss Piggin's handwriting, +on the flyleaf of "The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft," calmly +setting forth the inscription--"To John Narcissus Dean from Elsa +Piggin, in memory of walks and talks." Some of the letters had run, +Miss Piggin explained, owing to the dew dripping from some roses just +gathered, on her writing desk. The warmth of her pillow overnight +had somewhat crinkled the dried page, but this Miss Piggin did not +attempt to explain. She carefully hid from all eyes that, with his +departure, Romance died. Henceforth, she accepted Fate with gentle +compliance. No more rebellions, never again the false hope of +Springtime; even photographs were resolutely put away, John's +included, but she permitted one small snapshot taken on the football +field, to remain on her dressing table. He had such a handsome leg, +and her soul craved beauty. For the rest she was unwearied in +attention to her father. He found clean nibs in his pens, his +note-books carefully dusted and replaced. She had a great scheme +that afternoon for the Ladies' Sewing Meeting, which foretold long +months of patient work--an altar cloth, embroidered with scenes from +the life of St. John. Appropriately therefore, the opening lesson +was read from the Gospel according to St. John. She began it with +loving reverence. St. John was such a beautiful name, she thought. + +And John? Alas! he too dreamed, of a fair face, the laughter of +maidenhood, the sudden shaking of curls beautiful in their agitation. +Those last moments in the hall, awaiting the arrival of Tod with his +car, were painful almost. One by one they had said good-bye. Mr. +Vernley, red-faced, cheerful, friendly; Mrs. Vernley, motherly to the +last, then Kitty, off for her morning ride, and Alice about to retire +to her voice production; and then they were alone for a few precious +moments. + +"You will write?" + +"Every day, darling," he vowed. + +"I shall always think of you." + +"Always?" + +"Always!" she promised. + +Their hands are locked--silence, and tears in Muriel's eyes. + +"I shall soon be on my feet." + +"I know." + +"Muriel!" + +"John, dearest!" + +"London is nearer than Chawley." + +"Yes, John, but--" + +"But?" + +"It is so new, such an adventure." + +"That thrills me--our day draws nearer, our day, Muriel." There is +another pause. Bobbie bangs the door open before approaching. + +"Car's coming round, Scissors," he shouts. "Good-bye, Muriel, old +thing! Remember me to the nuns!" He strides up and kisses her +soundly on the cheek, sees tears in her eyes; she feels the +reassuring pressure of her brother's hands upon her arms. And then +they are gone. + +As the train drew in through the panorama of chimney-pots, factory +roofs and gasometers, it was her face John saw, over the wretchedness +of the bewildering city. In the station he awoke to the reality of +the things under the girders and glazed roofs. He carried only a +bag; his trunk would be forwarded when he found rooms. He stood on +the platform hesitating a moment. London frightened him. It was so +vast and self-centred, so busy with people who had apparently solved +the problem he had to solve. Where should he begin, and how would it +all end? For the moment he had one rule, strict economy. He made +his way slowly up the incline out of Liverpool Street Station, and +asked a policeman the best means of reaching Mariton Street. "Where +is it?" he asked the genial fellow whose robust countenance cheered +him. + +"Pimlico! No. 6 bus to Charing Cross, change to 24, that'll take you +down to Mariton Street." John thanked him and clambered to the top +of the bus. He watched the traffic, human and vehicular, streaming +down Bishopsgate. At the Bank, he could not suppress a thrill as he +looked on the restless tide surging into the vortex before the +Mansion House. St. Paul's, lifting its sun-struck dome into the +morning air, pigeon-haunted, floated away behind, and the short +descent under the viaduct brought them to Ludgate Circus. There, +narrow, mazed with telegraph wires, jammed with buses, cars, lorries, +and hurrying humanity, rose Fleet Street. An incommunicable wonder +stole in on the boy's heart. Here was the battle ground whereon he +would throw down his gauge. The roar in his ears might have been +applause, or was it the laughter of ridicule? The gold-lettered +sign-boards announced the tributary channels on either hand. Names +familiar on the breakfast table; names of power and wonder leapt +forth from these insignificant buildings, behind those walls sat the +men who held the world in leash. The fall of empires, the death of +monarchs, the ruin of men, the fame that sprang upon them; all these +things found their historians here. Man-made, this world was hedged +round with the divinity of power. Within those drab buildings beat +the pulse of Time. Mercury, wing-footed, swept down those narrow +stairways, and leapt forth from fourth-storey dwellings of the +Olympian "We." + +It was soon passed. The roaring bus soared up the gradient towards +the Griffin and Shield at the City entrance of Temple Bar. Beyond, a +widening way diverged in two crescents around the pinnacled church. +High up on the right, the solemn solidity of the Law Courts, its +clock hung from the tower far over the narrow street; a swerve and a +new vista. The Strand leading onwards past the wedge of the +Australia House, the pillared colonnade of the Gaiety Theatre, and +the narrows, with hotels and theatres on either hand. Then the +railed front of Charing Cross, a brief right hand glimpse of St. +Martin's Church, and John descended. Around the corner broke the +wonder of the world, Trafalgar Square, flanked by the National +Gallery, white against the blue sky, cumulus-banked with summits of +sunlit snow. Aloft, Nelson, dark and solitary, looking riverwards +far over the head of the unfortunate monarch, superbly seated and +orientated; the four lions, symbols of British solidarity and regal +magnificence, in whose ears the song of the nation's traffic sounded +by day and by night, guardians of the hub of empire; and listeners, +perforce, to the revolt of humanity. + +Long stood the youth, gazing upon this scene, watching the brilliance +of the fountains with their scintillating jets, about whose spray +naked urchins as if strewn from a garland of Correggio, shouted and +splashed. Into his heart stole the magic of the place. Here was the +visible pulse of the nation, the England in which he lived, an +Englishman. Here was the dream, tangible, carried in the hearts of a +thousand pioneers across the wastes of far places, the music +accompanying the hymn of duty, the thought that built the empire +imperishable in the love of her children. He looked on the Roman +magnificence of the Admiralty Arch, caught a swift translation of a +Venetian moment when a cloudless azure dome encupped the towered +church; and then, with a start, he returned to the business of the +day. A few minutes later one view crowded out another, until amid +ecstasy and wonder, he seemed to be riding through history. +Whitehall, broad, official, stately; the sudden leap to sight of +Westminster Hall; the familiar homeliness of the Abbey; the tracery +of the Houses of Parliament; the clock tower and the bridge, and ere +the tumult subsided in his heart, followed the long +cathedral-greyness of Victoria Street, ending in the vulgar rout of +traffic about the railed courtyard of Victoria Station. John laughed +to himself, swaying on the bus. Was he seeking lodgings or El Dorado? + + +When the bell rang for the fifth time that morning, Mrs. Perdie let +forth a protest. + +"Sure there's no peace in a basement kitchen," she moaned, wiping her +hands dry after peeling potatoes for the evening meal. It was no use +expecting Annie to answer the bell; she was on the fourth floor +making the young gentlemen's beds, and lost that moment in +contemplation of a gaudy pair of pyjamas. So while Annie speculated +on the cost of a blouse made out of the same silk, Mrs. Perdie +climbed the stairs and opened the door to another exquisite young +man. But she had a trained eye, and the first words of enquiry told +her that this was the genuine article, the product which Mrs. Perdie, +proud of being a connoisseur by virtue of seventeen years' service in +the best families, reverenced and made adjustable terms for. The +mention of Miss Piggin's name immediately confirmed her impression. +Warmly she invited the young gentleman into the drawing room, +hastening to draw up the Venetian blinds and apologising for her +appearance. + +"I'm not like this of a night-time. You see, when they are all out I +give a hand to the maid." Then she was silent a space, while she +absorbed the vision of the young man seated before her. A visit from +Phoebus Apollo himself--the original of the plaster statue on the +shelf over the aspidistra--would not have silenced her so effectively. + +"I knew at once he was of quality," she confided to Annie later. +"His hands, gloves and shoes--you can never go wrong there. You +can't be sure of accent. Some people are regular parrots. And he +was that shy I could have hugged him. Didn't like to ask how much, +he didn't, or what it included. Different to that brazen pair on the +fourth floor." + +The interview was indeed somewhat painful to John. He had heard +warning stories of the rapacity of landladies, of their dirty rooms, +bad food and subtle extras. The most familiar jokes were based on +the experiences of unfortunate lodgers. He had expected to find Mrs. +Perdie rat-faced, with a withered neck and untidy wisps of hair. +This round-faced woman with the pleasant smile and a straight-forward +air was not the original of the caricatures; moreover he saw no +cringing cat. There was not even a bunch of wax grapes under a glass +dome, which Tod assured him monopolised the mantelpiece in all +boarding houses. + +At her invitation he made a tour of the bedrooms, and heard as he +mounted the stairs, the separate histories of the occupants of each +room. She halted on the third floor and led the way into a back +bedroom. It was well-furnished as a bed-sitting room. A writing +table stood under the window, which looked out on the wide expanse of +a factory yard. The sky was cut by a huge chimney, belonging to the +Army Clothing Factory, but this was not unpleasant, for it bore a +slight resemblance to the Campanile of St. Mark's, Venice; at least +with a blue sky an hour after sunset, the illusion was not +impossible. There was a large mirrored wardrobe, a bed with a purple +eiderdown, a boxed-in wash-stand, a small table, an easy chair and a +gas stove. + +"Gas is extra, sir, there's a shilling slot meter in the recess so +that you only pay for what you burn. The bath room, with a geyser, +is on the landing. This room and board, is two guineas a week, +laundry and boot cleaning extra. There's breakfast and dinner in the +evening, with midday dinner and tea on Sundays. All our guests have +lunch out. I'm sure I could make you comfortable, sir." + +Looking at the woman, John felt sure too. He was glad to have +settled the problem so easily. Before he went, Mrs. Perdie gave him +a latch key--a sign of confidence in view of the smallness of his +bag, and in return he insisted on paying her a week in advance which +caused her to say to Annie, "only a gentleman would think of +that--handsome-like. There's nothing like the quality." + +When she showed John out, he was reminded that dinner was at seven, +and buses ran every ten minutes from the corner. + +"I don't know your name, sir," said Mrs. Perdie finally, as the young +man put on his hat. + +"Dean--John Dean," replied John with a smile. + +Mrs. Perdie smiled back as she closed the door, "Bless 'im," she said +to the cat, which then appeared. "I wonder what he does--and such +nice teeth and manners!" + +When Annie descended from her dreams of glory, with a few loose +feathers in her hair, Mrs. Perdie was rubbing a serviette ring. + +"Annie--there's a new gentleman comin' in to-night; set a clean +napkin and this ring between Miss Simpson and Captain Fisher, and get +the back bedroom ready. Take the best towel up." + + + +II + +When John returned to Mariton Street that evening, the beauty of +London burned in his blood. He had given himself up to pleasant +vagabondage all that day, abandoning the quest of livelihood. On the +morrow he would begin that grim task. So after sending the address +for his luggage to be forwarded, noon found him walking along the +road by the garden wall of Buckingham Palace, towards Hyde Park. It +was sunny, and the pleasant hum of traffic, the bright-faced +messenger boys, the nurse girls with their well-dressed children, the +crescendo of an approaching bus, the lovely elegance of the lady +whose car went parkwards for an airing, the stately fronts of the +houses, the sun-gleamed masses of clouds that backed the dark figure +of the charioteer on the quadriga near Green Park--all these things +were part of this wonderful song of life. It was almost incredible +that he should seek a niche in all this splendour. Those people +around him seemed so well established; had they ever begun, or had +they been mere victims of circumstances? + +He watched a couple of riders turn in at Hyde Park Corner; a +fresh-faced young man, stolid with good food and no worry, +accompanied a fragile girl, whose well-tailored riding habit for a +moment called up another figure he knew well in similar attire. He +followed in at the gates and turned to the left, wondering if ever he +and Muriel would ride together down that glorious stretch. He sat +down on one of the chairs and watched the riders. Children +accompanied by grooms, elderly army officers, a very stout lady who +appeared to break down the fetlocks of her mount, a tall girl in +black top-boots, who galloped, with splendid hands, and laughed back +at two young men who made desperate efforts to keep with her. + +Then his attention was attracted by an elegant apparition, which +alighted like a bird of paradise from a car on the edge of the curb. +It was a boy-officer in the Scots Guards. He was very tall and +languid, but held himself stiffly erect as though there was a cavity +between his shoulder blades which he wished to keep closed. It was +difficult to know how he ever washed his face, so rigid were the +arms. His hat which had a brass peak and a red and white diced band, +half buried his face, the chin receding underneath a hairless upper +lip, delicate and curved. His painfully erect carriage seemed +derived more from mechanism within than from the operation of will. +His tunic suggested a theatrical tailor, so flawlessly did it fit, +with an exaggerated waist-line that made an hour-glass of a human +trunk. And as if in fear that it was just possible some one might +mistake the young elegant for an ordinary officer in an ordinary +regiment, the tailor had descended from fashion to eccentricity in +the cut of the trousers, which, receiving inspiration from golfing +breeches, bulged below the knees, where they were caught up by +puttees that wound about two stick-like legs ending in enormous +booted feet. The young man was evidently delighted with himself. He +turned round three times in the sunshine, like a parrot on a perch. +Then it happened that a square-shouldered country youth, in a coarse +copy of the same uniform, but with ruder brass embellishments, +saluted and passed. The immediate effect was wonderful, if +startling; a swift spasm, as of a Titan struggling with tetanus, +galvanised the young officer into movement. By a terrific jerk, he +succeeded in bringing his out-turned palm behind his right ear where +it locked for a moment before being hurled downwards to its former +rigidity, the disturbed flesh subsiding again into calm dignity. A +few minutes later he was joined by a brother officer, an even more +splendid figure wrapped in a long greatcoat of gorgeous blue, +double-breasted and broad lapelled, with two vertical rows of buttons +and a glimpse of scarlet lining within, where it gaped about his +knees. The waist line was identical, a similar hat hid a similar +face. One felt there might be a thousand of these in a box somewhere. + +The Comédie Humaine continued. Two seats away from him a rather +stout lady, accompanied by three Pomeranian dogs, seated herself. +She was half-buried in furs above the waist, and half-naked below, +but apparently suffered no discomfort. John could not help looking +at her ankles, which were shapely, a diamond watch-bangle encircling +the right. The lady noticed John's gaze and did not seem to mind, +for she smiled. Slightly embarrassed, he thought it right to smile +back, transferring his gaze to the Pomeranians, in suggestion that +they were amusing. The exchange of smiles, however, made him aware +that the lady was of indeterminable age, but had a very fresh +complexion. The wind also told him that she liked expensive perfume. +He continued to watch the horses and the people, and caught whiffs of +conversation. He heard, from the young men, that certain things, he +could not hear what, were "rather priceless" and "topping." One +voice was ecstatic over Pavlova, "but Novikoff!" exclaimed an adoring +feminine voice, "you've seen the Bacchanale?" Presently a long +purple limousine drew up to the edge of the curb. The lady with the +dogs rose and went towards it, the chauffeur opening the door. She +was just entering the car when one of the leashes dropped from her +hands. The dog immediately ran off in the direction of John. + +"Naughty Topsie!" she called. "Come here!" + +But Topsie welcomed liberty and sped on, John in pursuit. He soon +retrieved the runaway and towed it back. + +"Thank you so much," said the lady sweetly. "Topsie is such a +rebel--I love dogs, don't you?" + +"Yes," said John. He thought she looked critically at him. + +"Have you got one?" she asked. + +"No--I have just left school--it is difficult there." + +"Oh--and are you starting business; I suppose you're quite thrilled!" +She laughed again and John responded. + +"I have not started yet--I have just come to London to-day." + +"All alone?" asked the lady, arching her eyebrows. + +"Yes." + +"But how romantic! You sound like Dick Whittington, without a cat or +a dog!" She laughed again at her joke. He noticed she had beautiful +small teeth; a rope of pearls lay on her throat. + +"Do you know London?" she asked again. + +"No--I have never stayed here for any time," he answered. The +chauffeur still waited with his hand on the door. + +"This park is very lovely," she said, gathering her furs about her. +"You should see it--will you drive through it with me?" + +The invitation was so gracious and alluring John could not refuse; he +followed the lady into the car, and with the dogs in their laps, they +glided forward. It was a luxuriously appointed car. Three silver +sconces held flowers whose perfume competed with that of the lady. +The chauffeur in front wore a cerise uniform, with a broad green +collar. Inside they were quite silent for a few minutes. John's +shyness overcame him, while the lady, reclining on an air cushion, +arranged her furs and played with the collars of the dogs on her lap. +John knew that he was being closely scrutinised, and he resolved not +to reveal any more of his personal history. This close contact +showed that his companion's age was about thirty-five, and the fresh +complexion had not been acquired in the open air. She made no secret +of this, for she lifted her half veil, opened a vanity bag, took out +what appeared to be a silver pencil, and raising a small mirror, +carefully attended to her lips, which reddened in the process. John +wondered who she was. There was a little pile of visiting cards in +the wallet under the motor watch but they were upside down so he +could not read them. She was evidently a wealthy woman, and in some +respects reminded him of Mrs. Graham, who also had a green jade +vanity bag. Mrs. Graham, however, on the one occasion when she used +its contents, told him to turn his head away. The lady in the car, +having completed her toilet, raised a lorgnette, looked out of the +window for a few moments, dropped it, and addressed John. + +"London can be a very lonely place," she said. "I know, because my +husband is in India with his regiment." + +John hesitated in reply. He could not just say, "Oh," and if he said +"I'm sorry," it would be stupid. So he simply said, "Yes." + +"Have you many friends here?" she asked. The question was kindly. +He chatted brightly. Her first impression was correct, she thought, +looking at him. He was a very handsome youth. When he looked down +she saw how the long lashes swept his cheek, and when looking at her +his eyes had wonderful depth. She liked the fine line of his +profile, and the well-shaped, sloping ear; his hands too were +fascinating, being strong and veinless. And in every movement and +line, there was the symmetry of thoughtless youth, which was +delightful. After a short time he, too, was admiring her intensely. +She had an alluring voice--and he could not help noticing the ankles +and small feet, so beautifully shod. + +They turned and twisted, caught a glimpse of a sheet of water, an +ornamental garden and bridge, then turned again, running parallel +with a main road, whose roar could be heard behind the screen of +trees. The watch hands pointed to ten minutes to one. + +"I am lunching in Cumberland Place at one," she said. "Can I drop +you on your way?" + +He had no way, but did not care to confess it. + +"At the gates will do, thank you." + +When the car drew up near Marble Arch, she took a card from the +wallet. + +"This is my name and address. Since you are new to London, let me +offer you hospitality. Will you not dine with me one evening at my +house?" + +He thanked her. + +"Shall we say Thursday at seven? It will be quite _en famille_. You +will be the only guest." She showed her beautiful teeth when he +assented, and held out a diminutive gloved hand as he stepped out of +the car. + +"Good-bye," she smiled, as he raised his hat, a glance taking in the +sweep of his brow with its clustered hair. The door closed, she +leaned back with a parting glance, and as the car lurched forward, he +replaced his hat. He looked calm enough, but there was tumult +within. For a few moments he gave no thought to lunch. What a +wonderful place London was! Then he became conscious of the large, +neat-lettered card in his hand. "Lady Evelyn Warsett, 607, Queen +Anne's Gate, S.W.," he read. Also he remembered he had not told her +his name. + +When John returned that evening to Mariton Street the dinner gong was +creating pandemonium in the hall below, and there followed an opening +of doors, a creaking of stairs and a babble of voices. He halted on +the threshold of the dining room, dreading his entry into this +strange circle. But Mrs. Perdie was waiting for him and piloted him +to his place at the table, where she introduced him to Miss Simpson +on his right, and Capt. Fisher on his left. The captain was very +curt and ignored him throughout dinner. Miss Simpson was assiduous +in polite attentions and small talk. When she discovered he had been +in Asia Minor, life suddenly brightened for her. She had lived a +year at Samsoon, with her brother, then the Consul, now a Governor in +India. The Captain sniffed and fidgeted. He hated all his talk +about Asia and India. He had spent most of his life on the Gold +Coast, and knew it was not so fashionable. + +When dinner was over the young men lingered behind. + +"Perhaps you would like to have a smoke?" suggested Mrs. Perdie, +going out and leaving John with the other boarders. He now looked +more particularly at his companions. They had crossed to one of the +windows where they began to bewilder the parrot by blowing smoke into +its face. Presently one of them seemed aware that John was in the +room. Pulling out a silver cigarette case he opened it and held it +towards him. + +"Have a gasper?" he drawled genially. + +John presumed he meant a cigarette, and took one. The donor extended +an elegantly ringed hand to light his own. There was an excessive +length of cuff. John's eye moved along the arm, and noted the +carefully knotted tie. The clothes were ultra-fashionable, the cut +of the waist being much exaggerated. The trousers had a razor-edge +crease and the patent boots, narrow and pointed, were topped by brown +canvas spats. But despite the elegance there was something too +pronounced in everything. The cloth was just too light in colour, +too loud in check, the cameo ring too large, the pearl pin too pearly +to be genuine. Even the hair was curled until it suggested a wig +rather than a natural covering, and the skin had a curious poreless +texture. But all these might have passed unnoticed by a less +critical eye than John's, fresh to impressions after the plain +severity of schooldays, had not the voice, and accent deliberately +assumed, been so truly remarkable. It was a high-pitched voice, that +rather sang than spoke. He turned from time to time to his +companion, to whom, to John's amazement, he alluded as "my +dear"--John wondering if that was the fashionable pet name in London. +The friend was of similar type, but he talked less and giggled more. +The teeth were profusely stopped with gold, and while they talked, he +extracted a piece of washleather from his yellow waistcoat pocket and +polished his nails. He was the younger by about two years. + +"Mrs. Perdie didn't introduce us," said the elder--"my card." + +John took the piece of pasteboard and read it. In Roman printed type +it ran "Reginald de Courtrai. Greenroom Club, W.C." + +"You are French?" asked John. + +"By descent--my grandfather was a Courtrai de Courtrai." + +"Oh--I'm afraid I haven't a card yet--my name's Dean." + +"Have you come to business?" + +"No--I have not long left Sedley." + +The companion also held out a card. John accepted it and read, +"Vernon Wellington, Greenroom Club, W.C." + +"I bet Reggie at dinner you were a public school boy," said the +donor. "Good old public schools we always say! Glad you've come. +We are trying to put some tone into this house. Lord, it needs it, +look at this!" He waved his hand derisively towards a +red-blue-and-gold china shepherdess on the mantelpiece. + +"Fine place, Sedley," commented Mr. de Courtrai, puffing out smoke, +one leg crossed in the arm chair. "Eton,--Harrow,--Sedley--I think I +should have chosen Sedley had I not been educated on the continent. +There's a fine tone about Sedley, what do you say, old dear?" + +The old dear agreed. "My people insisted on me going to a private +school. Thought me too delicate. Always regretted it." He adjusted +his tie carefully, glanced at himself in the mirror and smoothed his +hair with a thin white hand. "You're new to London I suppose?" + +"Yes--I arrived to-day--but I shall like it." + +De Courtrai blew more smoke into the air. + +"You must get some cards--really, my dear." + +"And a club," added Wellington. "Every fellah must have a club. +We'd put you up, but ours is for the profession." + +"Profession?" asked John. He was eager to know what they were. He +had never met any one quite like this. + +"We're on the stage," replied Wellington. + +"Oh--it must be very interesting work, acting." + +"We aren't actors; we're in the ballet--the Empire. We're opening +next Monday--'Scheherezade.'" De Courtrai stroked his ankle. "A +superb spectacle, you must come." + +John had never seen a ballet and he could not imagine the parts +played by these young exquisites. He remembered two pictures by an +artist called Degas, on which Mr. Vernley set great value. They were +of ladies in short fluffy skirts with stumpy legs, on one of which +they stood, stork-like. Bobbie said they were ballet-girls, and that +Tod had once run one, whereupon John naïvely asked "Which won?" +causing Vernley to collapse in shrieks of merriment. He had never +heard of men doing ballet dancing. Perhaps they had something to do +with the scenery. He did not care to hint at this, however, and said +how much he would like to see the ballet. + +"He'd better come on Wednesday, my dear," said de Courtrai, +addressing Wellington, "when we're doing 'Carnival.' He'll fall in +love with Harlequin, won't he?" + +Mr. Wellington giggled and exclaimed-- + +"S'nice!" + +"Is she very beautiful?" asked John. + +They opened their eyes wide. Mr. Wellington again giggled, put his +hand delicately on his hips, shook himself and exclaimed, "Chase me!" + +"My dear!" exclaimed de Courtrai, dabbing his nose with a +highly-scented handkerchief, "It isn't a she, it's a he!" They +laughed again, in a high-pitched key which jarred on the young man, +and they saw that he resented their mirth. + +"You mustn't mind, old thing," de Courtrai exclaimed apologetically, +touching John's arm. "You're really rather sweet." + +John got up. + +"I'm afraid I must go and unpack now." + +"Can we help?" volunteered Wellington. + +"No, thanks, I haven't much," he replied and went out. He could hear +them giggling as he went upstairs to his room, and felt furious with +them for making such a fool of him. How was he to know that +Harlequin wasn't a ballet-girl? He would talk less in future, and +not ask so many questions. But he disliked their manner although +they had been very friendly. + +Half an hour later there was a tap on his door. With his head deep +in the almost empty trunk, John paused. The tap was repeated. In +reply to his call Wellington and de Courtrai entered, the latter +carrying a cup. + +"We've brought you some coffee we've made in our room. Ma Perdie +won't make it without a shilling extra." + +"Oh, thank you," said John taking the cup. They paused. + +"Won't you sit down?--at least, there's only two chairs; I'll sit on +the bed." + +They sat down and John sipped the coffee. It was made from essence +and sickly sweet, but he had to drink it. + +"You're very jolly in here," said de Courtrai thrusting his feet out +towards the gas fire. "A nice warm room--we're at the top. You're +getting your knick-knacks about, I see." + +"Yes--just a few I've brought." + +Suddenly from the other side of the room came a loud "Ooh!" It was +from Wellington who had been walking round on a tour of inspection. +He had halted at John's ivory brushes, with his father's monogram and +crest. + +"What charming brushes!" he sang. "Look, my dear, aren't they just +too lovely!" He carried the tray to de Courtrai. + +The latter looked. + +"Yes, I believe they're heavier than mine. But Welly, you mustn't be +so rude." + +"Oh, it's all right," said John weakly. The next exclamation came +from de Courtrai, who suddenly saw the portraits on the dressing +table. + +"Who's this?" he asked picking up Vernley's portrait. + +"My friend." + +"What a sweet face!" + +John could hardly agree, and he thought with a smile, what Vernley +would have said if he had heard himself called "sweet." + +"And this?" Wellington picked up Marsh's photograph. + +"Another friend," replied John briefly. Next to it stood a portrait +of Muriel. He didn't want them to probe all his secrets. He was a +fool for putting it out. + +But de Courtrai's eyes travelled over it without notice, to a Sedley +group. + +"Who's this with the ball?" + +"Oh--that's Lindon, the Captain." + +"What a wonderful figure!" + +"Yes--he weighed twelve-stone-four. He was stroke in the first eight +too," said John, "and he's a fine pianist." + +"You can tell he's an artist by his eyes," exclaimed Wellington. "I +never make a mistake that way; do I, my dear!" He giggled and sat +down. + +"Never, Welly--you've a gift for the s'nice and s'naughty." + +"Go h'on!" giggled Wellington, dabbing his face. John stared, de +Courtrai saw the wonder in his eyes. + +"We must hobble off--we're in the way--well see you again." + +"Don't forget Wednesday," cried Wellington in the doorway. + +"Ta-ta!" called de Courtrai. The door closed. + +What a pair! John didn't know whether to laugh or be angry. They +were very vulgar and inquisitive, but also very friendly. He would +not encourage them, however. He resumed his unpacking. An hour +later he had finished, and was preparing for bed, when there was +another tap on the door. This time he pretended not to hear; he did +not want them in again. But when the tap was repeated, he went to +the door and opened it. In the darkness of the landing, he could not +see who it was. + +Captain Fisher paused on the threshold. He had come out of the +darkness and stood blinking in the light. John waited, for he seemed +about to say something. There was a long pause, a clearing of the +throat, then-- + +"Permit me to introduce myself, sir, I am Captain Fisher, Fisher of +the 3rd Foot, sir. Twelve years China Station, twelve Malta, six +Gold Coast--damn it. Glad to know you, sir!" he stammered, then +bowed low. + +Embarrassed, John bowed also. + +"Those were days, sir,--days--days of--" he put a hand on the lintel +as though the memory was too much for him. "Egad, sir, they _were_ +days. Fisher was a boy, sir, Lavington will tell you, sir--General +Lavington, God bless him--ninety-two to-day, sir--we've drunk his +health at the 'Rag' to-night. A great Speeeech ... a wunnerful man +... ninety-two, not much longer, sir, any of us. An' here we are, in +a Perdiferous house--pardon me, it's a great night--with foreign +meat, cats, parrots and a shilling in the slot. If any had a' known +on China station that Charlie Fisher would have been living in this +manag--menag--caravanserai, as Omar would say--You've seen 'em, +sir,--the blighted blossom of India! Ha! Ha! An' the eunuchs--yes, +sir, that's what they are! Pouff!" Here Captain Fisher steadied +himself from a fitful gust of indignation. "Now there's a gel out +to-night-- + + _Take a pair of sparklin' eyes + an' a--_" + +hummed the Captain. "You'll see her, sir, what a glorious vision! +Wants breaking, sir! A high stepper like her father's fillies, but +what a head--what a--I'm a connoisseur too, in my day, Dandy Fisher +they call me. China Station twelve years, twelve years Malta, Gold +Coast--" + +"So you said, sir," interrupted John, breaking the circle. + +"You're a fine lad," exclaimed the Captain, looking at him keenly. +"Just such a lad as mine, God bless 'im. What's y'name?" + +"Dean, sir--John Dean." + +"John--ha! so's mine--God bless him--dear ol' John--dear ol' John." +He swayed a little, as he surveyed his waistcoat. "He was your age +too, and his hair too--just such hair--the gels loved him--dear ol' +John." + +"Is he--is he dead, sir?" asked John. + +The old man straightened himself proudly. + +"For his King and Country, sir--in the Boer War--an' a V.C., sir,--a +V.C.--God bless 'im." A tear trickled down his nose. "The last to +leave me--the last. General Lavington said to-night--ninety-two, +sir, he is, he referred to John, he knew 'im--signed his first +papers, sir--dear ol' John. Come and have a drink, me lad." Captain +Fisher turned and put a shaking hand on the banisters. + +"Not to-night, sir, thank you, it's late." + +"So 'tis--so 'tis. Good night, my lad. God bless you!" + +"Good night, sir!" John waited until the broken old man reached his +room, and then closed his door. + +With a last look round his little room, John swiftly undressed, stood +pyjama clad and barefooted a moment after brushing his hair, looking +out on the bright moonlight night, and the quaint caricature of the +Campanile. Then he turned off the light and leapt into bed. But not +to sleep. This was his first day, and he now slept for the first +night in the city he had come to conquer; so far he had done little +conquering, he thought, as he reviewed the events of this day. The +moonlight flooded his room, making it still more unfamiliar. He +watched the swiftly fading glow of the gas fire, and his eye caught +the portrait of Muriel, illuminated in a direct beam of moonlight on +the mantelpiece. Mastered by an impulse, he threw back the clothes +and put a foot on the cold floor, then sprang out and took the +portrait from its place. For a long moment he looked at it in the +dimness, then pressed his lips to the cold glass, and was about to +get into bed, when he did what he had not done for a long time. He +had never given any serious thought to religion; perhaps he was +instinctively rather than formally religious. The times when he had +sat in school chapel had been irksome, though occasionally a hymn, +and the high fresh voices of the choir had stirred him, +aesthetically, not spiritually. But to-night he felt very lonely, +and just a little afraid. Moreover there was a new faith in his +fervent love for Muriel, which somehow required expression. So +quietly he slipped down to his knees, buried his face in his hands, +and prayed in a somewhat disordered fashion for something which he +could hardly define. Then standing up again, he looked at the +photograph, wondering whether the head he saw, in reality lying on a +pillow in a quiet country room, flooded with light from this same +moon, would realise anything of what he had just done and said. He +turned to replace the frame, then, on a thought, put it under his +pillow and got into bed. Two minutes later, quiet breathing in a +silent room told of a dreaming head, smiling for some reason, buried +deep in the pillow. He was oblivious even of Capt. Fisher's deep +bassoon in a room above. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +He had never experienced anything like this before, and after the +dismal events of the day, the exhilaration he felt was heightened by +reaction. The stall in which he sat was luxurious. It was good to +see around him so many prosperous, well-groomed men, and smiling, +richly clad, or half-clad women. Then the lights, streaming on the +gilding, the brass rails, the tall proscenium, and the gaudily +panelled ceiling, with its naked nymphs, rosy limbed, floating from +pursuing youths on banks of fleecy cumulus,--all tended to awaken the +senses. But oh! the music and the ballet! that wild spontaneous rush +of thistledown feet and lovely limbs, the glitter, the elaborately +evolved design, the swift riot of colour swimming on a sea of soft +melody that poured out over the darkened auditorium! From the white +beauty of "Lés Sylphides," dreamlike, as a stirring of lilies on a +moonlit pool, they had passed to the happy flirtations of "Carnival." +John, in ecstasy, forgot the sick misery of his heart, forgot those +cold refusals, the reluctant opening of numerous doors, the frigid +examination of self-confident men, the waiting, the snubbing, the +insolence of office boys and porters; his deep hatred of Fleet +Street, his apprehension of fruitless days, all passed away as he +peered into these glades of music and loveliness. With the blaze of +prodigal splendour in "Scheherezade," the swift change of music from +revelry to terror, the hurrying and scurrying of silk-clad women, the +stern dignity of the departing Sultan, John's head swam. He almost +forgot to look for Wellington and de Courtrai in that rapturous +release of the captives and the licentious abandon of the women on +their entry. It was with difficulty that he penetrated their +disguise, for the effeminate dandies of Mariton Street were +half-naked dusky men with muscular torsos who leapt and danced with +fierce exultation before their adoring lovers. John could hardly +realise that these superb athletes, masters of rhythm and gesture, +were the two vulgar youths who, despite his coolness, had shown him +nothing but kindness, with such insistence, that he had accepted +their pressing invitations to this performance. And his amazement +passed to unbounded admiration when de Courtrai died from a stroke of +the Sultan's scimitar, in a magnificent somersault that laid his body +prone at the feet of his terrified mistress. The curtain fell to a +tumult of applause. + +The long interval enabled John to explore the promenade at the back. +He stood in a corner and watched the parade, and wondered if it was +always the same, night after night--what kind of lives these people +lived, where their money came from, their nationality, for there were +overdressed young Jews with patent-button boots and silver-topped +canes, elegant dandies with waisted coats, girlish-looking youths +that smirked and simpered, heavy-jowled men with pendulous stomachs +and evil gloating eyes under bald, shiny heads. The women too, +French, German and Russian, dark, fair, loud-voiced, high-heeled, +arrayed in furs, small-footed and mincing, they passed, with quick +eyes and mechanical smiles, or sulky stare and-- + +"Penny for your thoughts, dearie," said a girl in a large white +stole, as she laid a kid-gloved hand on John's arm. + +He started more in fear than surprise. + +"Lord love us--I shan't bite yer!" she laughed. "So shy! and a +pretty boy too," she added, giving her fur a twitch while she looked +audaciously into his eyes with a frank stare. "How do you keep your +complexion, lovey? That ain't Ligett's one and six in cardboard +boxes, I know." + +John smiled, almost unintentionally. She could only be about +eighteen, and despite the hard mouth, she had innocent, kind eyes. + +"That's right--you're a regular Adonis with that showcase smile," she +exclaimed. Several persons were watching them. John coloured with +self-consciousness. + +"Gawd! I wish I could do that--an' I did once, dearie, before the +dirty work on the cross roads. But I don't mind a Martini before +Strumitovski waves his stick again." + +What could he do? To say "No" might provoke an outburst. He moved +towards the bar, her hand still on his arm. He felt a thousand eyes +turn on them, heard a thousand whispers. He was sure the bar-maid +smirked satirically when he ordered two Martinis. He had never had a +cocktail in his life, and didn't know whether to drink or eat the red +cherry in the amber liquid. His companion led the way and he saw she +expected another, although he had not swallowed half of the bitter +stuff. He ordered two more, and while they talked a warm glow crept +over him, and with it a feeling of distance. He seemed to be talking +to her down a corridor. There was a loud ringing of a bell above the +babel. + +"Where are you sitting?" she said, propelling him out. Before he +could answer some one called "Dean!" rather excitedly. The voice was +familiar, and turning, in the crush at the door, he saw Lindon. + +"What on earth are you--?" began Lindon joyously. Then, suddenly he +saw the gloved hand on John's arm and swiftly glanced at his +companion. Lindon winked expressively. "See you later, Scissors," +he called. "I'm at Jules, Jermyn Street," and then disappeared. +Utter confusion fell upon John. He strode fiercely along. + +"Lord! do you owe him a fiver?" simpered the girl. + +"No--certainly not, it's you!" he returned fiercely. + +She did not flinch, accustomed perhaps to such remarks. John, +although slightly drunk, was aware of his cruelty and felt penitent. + +"Don't flare, dearie," she said quietly. + +He halted at the corner where he turned for the gangway. + +"Good-bye," he said, somewhat ungallantly, to which she responded by +detaching her arm. + +"Aren't you coming home with me, boysie?" she asked plaintively, her +eyes very serious. + +"No--thanks, not to-night--I don't--I--" but he could not say it. +She divined it, however. + +"I know you don't--and I'll not be the first. You shy darling!" she +cried impulsively, taking his face between her hands and kissing his +mouth. A moment later she had gone, leaving nothing but a faint +odour of stale scent. Pale now, John leaned on the wall while the +blood surged to his brain, then, with a heart thumping tumultuously, +he found his way back to his seat. The rest of the ballet passed +unheeded; his mind was tracking that plaintive little face through +the dark house. + +When the curtain fell on the final divertissement, in accordance with +instructions John found his way round to the stage door, in a dark +back street, where stood several luxurious motor cars, a small group +of young men and women, autograph hunters chiefly, a tout or two, all +kept outside the stage door, blazing with light, by a hoarse-voiced +man in livery, to whom in turn, each member of the company called +"Good night, Billy." At last Wellington and de Courtrai appeared and +with them, three young ladies of the ballet, called Fluffy, Pop and +Pansy respectively. On the programme they had Russian names, as had +his two friends, but their accents betrayed familiarity with Balham. +They were pupils in the _corps de ballet_, and for ten +minutes--during which they all walked towards Piccadilly Circus, +there was an animated discussion of the performance, its errors, and +the wickedness of the conductor who had taken the last score through +in seven-eight time, causing a collapse of the principals the moment +the final curtain had fallen, whereupon he had been summoned to the +wings by Lydia Lamanipoff and had his face well slapped for his +insolence. Pop declared that it would end that "affair" which had +been a subject of current gossip ever since Lydia had thrown over +Tamanski for biting her shoulder in the "Bacchanale." + +John was swept along in the crowd, his own little group noisily +laughing and talking, Pansy hanging on his right arm, while her other +fondled a Pekinese dog with an enormous blue bow. They turned in at +a restaurant on the corner of a street, descended some marble steps +that wound round a lift, and suddenly John, pulled through a couple +of swing doors, halted amazed in a marble panelled room, over-lit, +with innumerable small tables surrounded by men and women. +Wellington made his way down the centre of the room, glancing at +himself in the large mirrors on his left and enjoying the sensation +their entrance caused. He commandeered a table down at the bottom, +near the noisy waitresses' buffet; above the babble of voices rose +the discordance of an orchestra on a dais. Its chief function +appeared to be that of creating as much noise as possible, including +antics at the piano and on a small drum and an organ. Wellington and +de Courtrai appeared to be well-known, for several dandified youths, +distinguished by spats, cuffs, side-whiskers or monocles, came over +to speak to them, and all were very convivial, ending their remarks +with, "Won't you introduce me?" Handshaking was a great ceremony, +accompanied with "How d'ye do?" to which was allied its inseparable +bromide, "Pleased to meet you." + +Pop distinguished herself by ordering steak and chips and a bottle of +stout; Pansy had a more delicate taste, ordering sardines on toast, +which de Courtrai declared was a specialty in this hall of many +tables. Bewildered, John ordered the recommended dish, refused a +cigarette from a pale gentleman who insisted upon talking across +Pansy to him, and was suffocated with the heat and tobacco smoke. +The conversation was still of Lydia and her loves, punctuated by long +stories of the ladies, and other ladies' furs and "fellahs." John, +desperate for a theme of conversation, began by praising the +Pekinese, and then narrated his experience with the lady and her +three dogs in the park. To his surprise it awakened immediate and +deep interest. At the end, the girls giggled and Wellington +exclaimed, "Chase me!" + +"It's thumbs up," said de Courtrai, wisely. + +"What a cheek!" asserted Pansy, rolling her eyes; Pop declaring, +"It's a shime to lead awy the young,"--whereupon there was loud +laughter. + +"Mind what you drink," said Fluffy impressively. + +"I should take Welly as chaperon," advised Pansy. + +John, getting redder and redder, partly in anger at his own naïve +foolishness, partly at their insinuations, declared he was not going +at all. + +"What!" they all screamed in amazement. + +"Wish I'd the chance," commented de Courtrai, adjusting his tie. "I +want some one to take a motherly interest in me." + +There was another bellow of laughter. All eyes were turned on their +table. John wished he could get away. But they sat on until the +lights began to go out, and when at last they were in the street +again, John discovered, to his dismay, they were not bound for home +but for Pop's flat off Jermyn Street. He suggested going home alone. + +"Rubbish, the fun's just beginning," cried Fluffy, taking his arm. +He was swept along with them. Pop led the way, herded them into a +small lift that ran up out of a dark hall in the street. It halted +on the fourth floor, where they all emerged. + +"Wonder if the Colonel's in," said Pop, turning the key. They all +followed and the question was answered in the diminutive hall by the +emergence from a brilliantly lit room of the Colonel himself. He was +big fat man, with a treble chin and thin lips. His eyes were beady +and their sockets were sunken and baggy. On his enormous stomach he +displayed a heavy gold chain, and as if to augment the size of the +foundations of such an enormous superstructure, he wore white spats. +A diamond glittered on his finger, six black hairs trailed across his +gleaming head, and his teeth were stopped with gold. Anyone more +unlike a colonel, John had never seen. When John, later, asked de +Courtrai for his regiment, the wise young man laughed. + +"Oh--he's one of the Nuts," answered de Courtrai. + +Certainly he was. He kissed the three girls in a fatherly way, +poured for them all a whiskey and soda, offered John a cigar, and +finally sprang amazingly on to the lid of the baby grand piano, where +he dangled his enormous legs. Pop disappeared into an adjoining +room. Then it was her home thought John, for she emerged a few +minutes later in a kimono, with slippers on and her hair down. She +curled up on a cushion by the fireplace, lit a cigarette, and looked +up admiringly at the Colonel. He had now dismounted, to permit +Fluffy to sing, Wellington accompanying, after which the latter +played with a skill and touch that surprised John. When Pop had +contributed, "Keep on loving me," to which refrain the Colonel pursed +his lips frequently, they called for John to perform. He pleaded +excuse, but they would not listen. + +"I don't know anything, really," he urged, but they forced him down +to the piano. + +"What is it?" asked Fluffy as he played the opening bars. + +"_O Lovely Night._" + +Pop looked at Wellington. + +"My--he's rapid, ain't he?" she said, but John did not hear. + +There was a strange stillness as he sang. Even Fluffy stared into +space, her pretty little face, under the rose shade, pensive. "Makes +me all shivery," she whispered, between the verses. + +Why did he sing this, John was asking himself. It was quite out of +keeping with the atmosphere. He was a fool to court failure like +this, but he struggled through. No one spoke when he finished. +Finally Pop asked for another cigarette. + +"You've got a lovely voice," said the Colonel. "Wish I could sing +like that. Could once, when a kid--in a choir," he said with a wry +smile, pouring out a whiskey and soda. + +"Lor--you in a choir," smirked Fluffy, pushing a thin finger into his +pendulous stomach. The Colonel resented this familiarity. + +"Yes, my gal, me in a choir--and solo tenor too, don't you forget +it!" He gulped down his drink and sighed. Pop put her arms round +his neck and kissed his bald head. + +"Did 'ums den," she crooned, and they all laughed. + +Soon afterwards they left, Pop and the Colonel standing in the +doorway until the lift had gone down. Later, walking down Mariton +Street, after they had parted from Fluffy and Pansy, de Courtrai +discussed the girls. + +"Orl right, of course, but, as you know, not ladies." + +"Is the Colonel Pop's father?" asked John. + +His two companions halted and stared at him. + +"My dear child--" began de Courtrai. + +"Dean's my name." + +De Courtrai gaped. + +"Really if you resent our--" Wellington drawled. + +"I do resent being made a fool," said John, hotly. + +The conversation was strained for the rest of the walk home. + +The Viennese clock in the drawing-room struck three as they lighted +their candles in the hall. + + + +II + +The following morning, in a contemplative hour in bed, John was +conscience smitten. He was on the road to ruin, exactly as in the +books he had scoffed at. Flashy companions, the stage, the stage +door, actresses, fast places of resort, doubtful flats, men of loose +morals, and drink--yes, three drinks, two in the bar--the bar!--and +one at the Colonel's, and then, as ended all vulgar affairs, a +quarrel on the way home. What would Muriel think if she knew? Was +this the way he was winning through? He had been in London four days +and was on the downward path. Penitent, he sprang out of bed, and to +strengthen his will, denied himself even a dash of warm water in his +bath. At breakfast de Courtrai and Wellington were missing, for +which he was grateful. It was good to talk with the Irish girl, +enjoy her bright laughter and the fresh look in her eyes; what a +contrast to those bedizened ladies of the ballet. Mrs. Perdie was in +her most motherly mood; she came up specially from the kitchen to +have a look at Mr. John. + +"I wondered if you were coming in, Mr. Dean--I was awake with my +lumbago--but there you are. It's a strange young man who can resist +the night air of London!" + +He felt inclined to resent her comment, but it was so good-natured +that he laughed in reply. The real mother emerged half an hour later +when she met him alone in the hall, where he came to enquire after +his laundry. + +"You'll soon lose that lovely colour of yours, Mr. Dean, in this +whirlpool, if you deny yourself proper rest. I've seen many a bright +young gentleman go dull through coming home with the milk. Perhaps I +shouldn't say it, but lor, Mr. Perdie always said I was mother-mad, +an' p'raps I am. You'll not wear yourself out chasing the moon down, +will you?" + +Her good-natured face wore an anxious look. + +"An' it's not for me to say really, but them young gentlemen upstairs +are not your kind, and I'm sorry if I'm presuming, Mr. Dean," she +said, wiping her hands on her apron. + +"Not at all--I appreciate your anxiety, Mrs. Perdie," answered John. +"I shan't use my latchkey very often, you'll find." + +"There, sir, I felt I must say it, seeing you might ha' been my own +son, sort of fashion, an' I'm easy now." She disappeared suddenly +below. + +At ten-thirty that morning, John sat in the office of the _New +Review_. He had with him a letter of introduction from Mr. Vernley +to Melton Cane, the editor. For one hour he sat in the waiting-room +overlooking Covent Garden, while he listened to the whirr of the +typewriter in the next room. A door on his right opened into the +editor's den, wherein sat the assistant editor reading manuscripts, +which he took ceaselessly out of a big tin box. The reader was a +tall heavy man, with sandy hair and a fresh complexion. He had +chatted pleasantly with John and told him poetry was a drug on the +market, and they were choked with it. + +"Ever since we discovered Mayfield's narrative epic, we've been +inundated with plagiaries of his work. I wade through them until I +sink in despair." + +"But I haven't brought any poetry," explained John. + +The big man gave a sigh of relief. + +"You look like a poet--which made me think there was no hope for +you--all those who look the part write dreadful rubbish. You saw +that schoolgirls-dream come in a few minutes ago?" He alluded to a +magnificent, leonine-headed youth with flaming tie and dark cloak +whom John had taken for one of the great on earth. "Here's the stuff +he's left--without a stamped addressed envelope for return-- + + _My soul is bitter within me, + Long nights have I contemplated + The ego that is mine + And questioned to what immortality + Destined I go--_ + +I can tell him at once--the waste paper basket." + +The offending manuscript joined the pile of the rejected. + +"You do write?" asked the assistant editor. + +"A little." + +"Prose or poetry?" + +"Prose." + +"Ah! there's some hope, but not much. Are you aware, my dear boy, +that only three out of every hundred novels bring their authors +royalties, and that only one of those three provides a decent income? +Do you know that editors rely on big names, their directors' literary +shareholders and occasionally, when they have been out of town too +long and must go to press, the literary agent?" + +John did not know this. The assistant editor stood up and yawned. +"One day I'm going to run a school of authorship. Having been a hack +for ten years with the income of a typist, I shall tell the aspirants +how to become authors, and get testimonials from all the editors in +whose papers I shall advertise my prospectus. Have a cigarette?" + +John took one. They smoked in silence for a while. The assistant +editor pointed to a portrait on the wall. "That poor devil committed +suicide in Brussels last week. He had a net income of £4 per month +from this _Review_. Why do people write poetry, why do they write at +all? Literature is not a profession, it's a form of vagrancy." + +"You've been a vagrant?" said John. + +"How did you know?" + +"I read your travel books and liked them." + +"Oh--well, I'm off for good this time. I'm going to Capri where I +shall sleep all day and talk all night. Been to Capri? No? Well, +it's a good place to fade away in. Are you going to wait for Cane?" + +"Yes." + +"He'll come in with a rush and go out with one. He's lunching with +the Irish Secretary. He's in such a hurry that he's never sure +whether he is in Constantinople, Berlin or Paris. His pet theory +just now is the German menace; have you anything on the German +menace?" + +"No--I've--" + +"That's the line at present. Last month we were Malthusian, this, we +are standing for strong language in modern verse, next the German +menace--we don't know what after that; the menace may run to two +numbers. You will notice I am discreet. That is half my charm. +It's now twelve, I think you'd better wait half an hour, and then +come out to lunch with me." + +"Oh thank you, but--" + +"No, it's not kind of me, as you think. You keep me from being bored +with myself. Presently you shall tell me all the ambitions of your +white young soul, all the sinks you are going to flush with your +flood of zeal, the heights of fame you will scale, the way you +propose to pay for board and lodgings, how you'll persuade the +publisher you are the infallible boom he is waiting for. But you +shall not read me any of your poetry." + +"I don't write poetry. I told you I didn't," began John. + +"Almost I am persuaded," said the assistant editor. "But you will; +the symptoms are there It is a mental measles you cannot escape." He +stacked up the unread manuscripts. "There are poets in that pile who +can write like Keats, like Shelley, like Byron, like Wordsworth, and +they do it just as well. They've been born too late. What they +can't do is to write like themselves. There are over thirty +Swinburnes here, and enough suggested immorality to poison the +Vatican library. Most of it is written by young ladies." + +At this moment Mr. Cane came in. He was a little man, going bald, +with scrubby moustache. John was about to retire, but he bade him +stay. Rapidly he glanced through half a dozen letters on his desk, +dictated social acceptances to his typist and then turned to John. + +"Now--what can I do?" + +John presented his letter. Cane read it quickly. + +"You want work, I see. There's none worth having in the literary +world. You're well informed, I'm told. Do you know Elverton Thomas?" + +"I've heard of him." + +"He wants a secretary who can get points for his speeches. If you +like, I'll give you a letter to him at the House of Commons." + +"It isn't what I want, thank you," said John. + +"We don't always get what we want," snapped Cane. "I can't do +anything else for you," he added with an air of ending the matter. + +"You can if you will, Mr. Cane, please. You know Mr. Walsh." + +"Well?" + +"I want to see him." + +"Newspaper editors are very busy men." + +"They've always time for good business," urged John. + +"H'm--how old are you?--you can get what you want, I see." + +"Nineteen, with lots of drive in me." + +"You want to get on a newspaper?" + +"Yes--I'm determined to." + +"I'll ring up Walsh. Go to his office at five to-day. He'll be in +then." + +"Thank you very much." + +Cane stood up, buttoned his coat, put on a glove. + +"I'm going now," he said to his assistant. "I'll sign those cheques +this afternoon. Send back Professor Railing's articles on +Shakespeare--there's nothing bar his resurrection could make a noise +for him." He strode to the door. + +"How's Mr. Vernley?" he asked John. + +"Very well, sir, thank you." + +"And Muriel?--a bright child that!" + +A light leapt in John's eyes. The other man understood at once and +gave him the first warm human look. + +"Oh--she's very well, sir." + +The door closed, he was gone. + +"There! what do you think of him?" asked the assistant, somewhat +proudly, John thought. "He'll play bridge at the Reform until four, +dance at Murray's during tea, and rush back here before dressing for +the opera. And those simpletons," with a wave towards the pile of +the rejected, "think he spends his time discovering them for the next +number. Our next specialty in verse--is a mechanic poet. There have +been navy poets, tramp poets, fishermen poets, postmen poets, porter +poets, but no one's found a mechanic poet. I have, and strange to +say he doesn't write about lathes, cams or beltings. He's gone back +to pure Greek. Here's 'Iphigenia in Balham.' Victorian bricks and +mortar mixed with ancient Greece. We've prevailed on the Bishop of +London to quote it next month. That'll start the _Church News_; an +interview in the _Daily Mail_ with the new poet, and we are well into +a second edition. Now let's go to lunch. I don't know your name. +I'll call you Narcissus--listening to my echoes." + +"That's a lucky shot," said John. "That is my nickname. Dean's my +name." + +"Ha!" said the assistant editor. "You are a reincarnation. I must +take you to a lady friend of mine. She will see the aura of a +chlamys under your flannel shirt. My name, too, is strange--not what +you would think for a moment. Not poetical or suggestive, scarcely +practical even--just Smith--you start at the revelation. It is +distinguished only by having neither a 'y' nor an 'e'. We belong to +the original Smiths--the blacksmiths. Ready?" + +Crossing the Strand, John began to wonder if this was the inevitable +end of all attempts to do work in London. It was good-natured of +this stranger to take him out. He was amused at his torrential witty +chatter, but it was not solving the all-pressing problem of getting a +living. + +After lunch they parted in the Strand, John promising to take Smith +the short story which he confessed he had written. It was now a +quarter past three. He walked slowly down towards Fleet Street. +Would Cane fulfill his promise and arrange his interview with Walsh? +He particularly wanted to join the staff of the _Daily Post_. He had +read it regularly at school. Three times they had published letters +of his, and they had taken two articles. + +He found the Square, lying back from Fleet Street, in which the +offices of the _Daily Post_ were situated. Through the swing doors +he came to an enquiry office, and asked for Mr. Walsh. Had he an +appointment? He thought so, through Mr. Cane. The uniformed +attendant noted the fact on a slip of paper with John's name. He was +then led into a small waiting-room. It was opposite the lift and +contained a bare table and four chairs. The walls were hung with +portraits of former editors and directors. John waited, standing. +His heart was beating with suppressed anxiety; he felt he was on the +fringe of things. A long wait, then a page boy asked him to follow. +He entered the lift, rose several storeys, walked down a long +white-bricked corridor, turned a corner and found himself in an oval +hall, with several doors leading out of it. John was asked to wait. +Behind one of these doors sat the great man. There was much coming +and going of clerks, and possibly reporters. Half an hour dragged +by. John stood up and paced the floor. Then three quarters of an +hour, and still no summons. Through a glass door he could see a +young man writing under a shaded light He tapped the door, and the +writer came to him. + +"Is Mr. Walsh disengaged yet?" + +"I don't know--have you an appointment? What name?" + +John told him. The dark young man disappeared through another door. +He came back in a few seconds. + +"Mr. Walsh is sorry, but he cannot see you." + +Dismay covered John's face. + +"But I have been kept--" + +"He is very busy to-day ." + +"Surely he knew that before?" + +"Perhaps--but he can't see you." + +"Then I shall sit here until he can." + +The young man smiled. + +"This office never closes," he said. + +"But that door opens," retorted John, nodding at a a door. + +It was a lucky guess. + +"His secretary won't let you in--it is quite useless, really." + +"We shall see," said John, now enjoying his obstinacy. A door close +by opened, and a small clean-shaven man, of middle age with gold +pince-nez, stood by listening to the debate. He suppressed a smile +as he looked at the flushed youngster, then came forward. + +"What do you want?" he asked. + +"I want to see the editor, sir, and if he's a gentleman--he'll see me +after waiting for him an hour." + +The man peered at him through his eye glasses. + +"I'm afraid he's not a gentleman, but you can see him." + +"Oh, thank you, sir." + +"Come along," he said and showed him into a large room littered with +papers and books. He motioned John to a seat. + +"Now what do you want?" he asked, standing with his back to the door. + +"I want to see Mr. Walsh, please." + +"On what business?" + +"It's personal--" began John. + +"Perhaps so--but he must know. You want to write for the paper I +suppose?" + +"You've guessed it, sir,--but do let me see him," John pleaded. + +"He's engaged with the chief reporter at present--but he will see you +soon, if you're patient." + +He then left the room by another door. + +John looked out of the window, down across the flat top of temporary +buildings, and saw the traffic surging along Fleet Street. He was +engrossed in the spectacle when his benefactor re-entered and seated +himself in the revolving chair before the littered desk. + +"The editor will see you now," he said. + +John jumped up. + +"Oh, thank you sir," he cried, and walked toward the door. + +"In here!" said the man, waving a hand for John to resume his seat. +"I am Mr. Walsh--though you may have expected a gentleman." + +"Oh!" cried John, and collapsed in confusion. + +"Mr. Cane tells me you are an enterprising young man. I see you are +an obstinate one. They are both qualities required on a newspaper. +I'm sorry we've no vacancies. The principle on which a newspaper is +staffed is that we always have more men than we can employ--for +emergencies and for weeding out. You have no experience?" + +"No sir, but I--" + +"Don't worry, experience is unnecessary to any but duffers. You look +sharp. Leave your address with my secretary. If a vacancy occurs--" + +"But it won't sir." + +"How do you know?" + +"I know that's the way every unsatisfactory interview ends," said +John, grimly, more desperate than insolent. + +Mr. Walsh got up and crossed to the mantelpiece. + +"How old are you?" + +"Nearly twenty, sir. You see, I must earn a living, my bit of money +won't last long. That has nothing to do with you, but I know you +will be glad to have me when it is too late." + +The editor smiled. + +"You believe in yourself, and you'll succeed. But I can't take you +on. I'll attach you, however. You can do a few theatres, and art +galleries and perhaps the literary editor can give you a little work." + +"Oh, thank you sir." + +"And one day we may be able to put you on the reporting staff." + +"On what basis am I paid?" asked John. + +"For what you do." + +"And how much is that?" + +"Depends on the chief reporter. It's all I can offer you, it's a +chance." + +"I'll take it, thank you." + +John rose. + +"See Mr. Merritt before you go." He held out his hand. "And I wish +you luck." + +John was dismissed. Outside the door he took a deep breath. He had +won the first round. All now depended on Mr. Merritt, who, he +learned, was out. John left word to say he would call the following +afternoon. His next job was to go into Philip's shop, and buy a map +of London. At tea, in a Lyon's shop, he read down a list of +amusements. Dramatic critic for the _Daily Post_--he murmured to +himself. It sounded splendid. And what a shock for Wellington and +de Courtrai! That evening he wrote to Vernley, to Muriel and to +Marsh. He also sent a letter to Mrs. Graham and Mr. Steer, saying he +was in London, and asking if he might call. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I + +In the entrance of the Circle Theatre there were already several +loiterers awaiting friends with whom they were going to see the new +play. Among them John. There was of course, nothing unusual in his +appearance; the gallery queue which had filed past the main entrance, +after its long vigil, would not know he differed from any other of +those fortunate fellows who, well-groomed, drove up in taxis and cars +and walked to their reserved seats, carrying the undigested peacock +to the stalls. It was all so new to him, this animated scene with +its types of humanity. Merritt, a thoroughly good fellow who had +immediately shown a kindly disposition to the new man, had introduced +him to Bailey, the dramatic critic of the _Echo_, who now accompanied +him. Together they stood by the portrait of a famous American +actress and scrutinised the arriving audience. There were Jews, of +course, little men, with semi-bald heads and black curly fringes; +they all wore patent button boots, and very fancy dress waistcoats. +The cut of their clothes was ultra-fashionable, and there was a glint +of gold and a flash of diamonds at many points of their ostentatious +persons. Gold-mounted walking sticks and cigars were noticeable. + +"These are the inner circle of the dramatic world," said Bailey. +"That's Reinstein; he owns six theatres and a chain of restaurants; +you eat his dinners and then try to digest them and his plays in his +stalls. I've seen great dramatists, men who can make you weep with +their beautiful sentiment, run across the street to speak to him." + +"That's an awful looking beggar," said John, catching a vile leer +directed at an under-dressed young woman who waved an ostrich feather +fan as she passed, on the arm of an old man. + +"A clever fellow--nine successes this season. That's Wentz, his +scout, a word from him will make or mar an actor or actress." + +"Who's the man he's talking to?" + +"Ah--that's Lewis--he's one of us," replied Bailey. + +"Us?" + +"The most aggressive, the most feared and advertised of us all. His +column every Sunday is said to be the only thing that Reinstein and +his crowd worry about." + +John looked at him. Hook-nosed he wore an ingratiating smile and his +voice purred as he spoke; when he laughed he emitted a high falsetto +note. John's observation was broken by the entrance of an amazing +spectacle into the charmed circle. A man, so diminutive that his +dress shirt dominated him like a plate on a plate-holder, was shaking +hands with Lewis. On his fat nose he balanced, precariously, a pair +of pince-nez through which he peered bemusedly. The tips of his +chubby hands just emerged from two prominent cuffs, his legs being +wholly lost in corkscrew trousers falling over the feet. + +"Good heavens!" cried John, "just look at--" + +But another apparition joined the circle. Nature had created him as +an antidote to the little man. He was huge; a behemoth. His heavy +jaw, the massive head, the long teeth, made him a perfect ogre, and +in fulfilment he scowled at his companions. His large hands hooked +themselves by the thumbs on to the pockets of voluminous trousers. + +"They belong to us," said Bailey, enjoying the shock he administered. +John's pride in his vocation had been too obvious not to afford +amusement to a confirmed cynic who had sat in the stalls for twenty +years, and had never betrayed the weakness of enthusiasm. + +"But--but surely," said John, "the newspapers don't send people like +these--what about their dignity?" + +"Dignity! There's no such thing in journalism. That belongs to the +leader-writer--in print." + +"Are they all like this?" + +"Most of us," replied Bailey, lighting a cigarette from the stub of +another. "We're working 'subs' by day and deadhead gentlemen by +night--the more respectable are civil servants--and they are the +least civil critics. Still--there are a few presentable ones; we +have the Grand Old Man--he's not here yet. He is a perfect contrast +to the Nut-food man--they'll be here later." + +A curly-headed young man in a fur coat strolled in. He gave himself +a side glance in the long mirror, approved of his classic beauty and +passed on. Everybody nodded to him and he acknowledged their homage +graciously. Several elderly ladies and a flashily dressed actress +hurried after him into the theatre. + +"That's Ronnie Mayfair--the actor. Freddie Pond will be here soon. +I've never known him to miss a first night." + +Just then, John's attention was attracted by a swift glimpse of a +passing head. Its unusual beauty arrested him, the dark vivacious +eyes flashing under a head of black bobbed hair. She could not be +more than twenty, he thought, she was so slim. The extreme +simplicity of her dress, falling without any decoration from shoulder +to the knee, emphasised the lightness of her poise. She was a swift +darting creature, with a sensuous mouth, crimson and pensive. But +there was determination, defiance almost, in every movement of her +body. Passion merely smouldered: she could be a creature of sudden +contrary moods. She threw John a quick but searching glance as she +passed, conscious of her power to attract, and the weakness of all +his sex to respond, and yet it was not a challenge so much as a +half-contemptuous provocation of his nature. Bailey, observant and +detached, did not fail to see the magic fire that had leapt from one +to the other. He saw this youth quiver with a sudden agitation, saw +the answering challenge of the lithe form that flitted by, sure of +the spoil if it cared to possess. + +"No," said Bailey, laying a hand on John's shoulder, amused at his +false assumption of indifference, "don't be another moth. There are +too many singed already." + +The boy laughed, then, with a careless tone----"Who is she?" + +"The Chelsea Poppy--she's Hoffmann's famous model." + +He knew then in a moment. So this was the Chelsea Poppy, the much +sonneted model of Hoffmann's famous heads. He loathed this forceful +Jew's sculpture--its deliberate accentuation of the ugly, its cult of +the repulsive, its coarse workmanship, apologised for as the new art. +Like others he had wondered how foolish Society women could make +themselves so extravagant over this ugly little man, the jerseyed +king of the Café de l'Europe, with a court of disorderly disciples. +The head of Poppy was famous. In the marble he had loathed its +sensuality, the ugliness of the contorted face. But there was a +repulsive similarity to the original; it was a cruel travesty of the +flower-like beauty he had just seen. + +"She's--amazing," said John, not trusting himself to say more. + +"In many ways," added Bailey. "Here's Freddie. It is a perfect +first-night, if the Grand Old Man will come." + +"Curtain up!" came the call. The lounge emptied into the darkened +house. The dramatic critics became very serious. + + + +II + +The end of the first act gave John another glimpse of the Chelsea +Poppy, a less assuring glimpse. She was talking, at the entrance to +the bar, to a cadaverous fellow who leered at her, and an involuntary +shudder passed over John as he noticed the possessive look in the +eyes of the man; he resented the fact that the girl seemed in no way +perturbed. Probably she was at home with that kind of man; certainly +she talked with absolute familiarity, and her hoarse little laugh +jarred on the ears of the youth ready to adore. Twice she winked at +a pair of young cavalry officers who sat on a lounge opposite, partly +to display their seamless boots, partly to catch the girl's eye. +Snatches of their conversation floated over to the youth who stood +alone under the mirror. They were enjoying themselves at the expense +of the promenaders. The diminutive fat man provoked their scorn. + +"How do such people get into this part of the house?" asked the pink +and white youth, twisting an auburn moustache. + +"Can't say," drawled the pride of the regiment, regarding with +satisfaction his thin thighs. "The fellow's a reporter I suppose!" +They yawned and then watched a girl's ankles until she drew near, +whereupon they coldly looked at her from head to foot. She seated +herself on the lounge. When John turned away she had taken a +cigarette from the proffered case. They did not rise with the call +of the curtain. In the interval after the second act, John let +Bailey point out more celebrities. There was a distinguished looking +Jew, with dilated nostrils, iron grey hair and a stoop, handsome in +the manner of his race, bearing the impress of intellect. + +"That's Luboff the novelist!" + +The famous portrayer of Jewry passed; his face, despite its lineal +coarseness, had an amazing beauty in its character. A few minutes +later Bailey was talking with the novelist and introduced John, who +found himself magnetised by an intense personality with great charm. +He was a man with a hundred fights against poverty, prejudice and +ill-health, but he had triumphed nobly. He had interpreted the Jews +to a scornful world, displayed their poverty, revealed their poetry. +As a dramatist he had assumed the role of a reformer; he entertained +the crowd, but he lectured it. After a few minutes' chat he left +them to speak to Lord Rendon, who, despite his elephantine exterior, +had a nimble mind versed in the subtleties of politics and +philosophy. At this moment John's attention was arrested by the +re-appearance of the girl in red. She was talking to an astounding +man whose hair straggled in disorder down to and over a soft brown +collar. He wore a pair of black metal pince-nez, smoked a stubby +pipe, the bowl of which he pressed from time to time with fingers +that scorned the need of the manicurist. The Socialist was written +all over him; there was sabotage in his eyes, repressed defiance in +his gestures. He wore, to accentuate his untidy eccentricity, a +faded brown sports coat, the pockets bulging with papers, and most of +the buttons missing. + +"Ah," said Bailey, "now you've seen the nut-food man--that's Adams of +the _Argus_--clever chap, but thinks untidiness is a sign of +intellect." + +"I see he knows the model--he's a Bohemian?" + +"Yes--at least he hopes so. We haven't any real Bohemians in this +country. They live on the Continent. When Englishmen try to be +Bohemian they only succeed in being lazy or noisy. You'll find that +each of them is regarded as a rising poet, a rising novelist or a +rising dramatist. They're always rising until they are middle-aged, +when they disappear somewhere. Really, Bohemians are the dullest +persons; they've no topics but their egotism. Avoid them, +Dean--they're never hygienic. I can enjoy a third-rate artist who is +ornamental, but these people are merely extravagant." + +"But he looks interesting," urged John. + +"So he is--you want to meet him?" + +"Well--" He was desperately anxious to know Adams, for Adams knew +the girl. He must speak to her before the play ended. Bailey +guessed the hope and buttonholed Adams who shook hands. + +"This is Mr. Dean. Tilly," he said, turning to the girl who had +drawn aside. + +"Miss Topham," he informed John. The girl looked at him casually, +and merely exclaimed, "Oh!" It was a shock to the eager youth and +for two or three minutes she ignored him. Then-- + +"You're new to London?" she said coldly. + +"Yes, but who told you?" answered John. + +"No one,--I could see you were by the way you've been looking at +people." + +This was a set back. John gave her a frightened look and she was +pleased by this success. + +"Have I--I hope I don't appear--" he stammered. + +"It doesn't matter--they like it; that's what they come here for." + +John was a little uncertain who "they" meant. It seemed to include +every one but herself. + +"Have you a cigarette?" she asked, abruptly. + +The boy's heart sank. + +"I haven't--I don't smoke. I can get some." + +"Don't bother." She looked at him curiously. "You don't +smoke--you're a queer kid." They stood alone now, for Adams and +Bailey had strolled on. He noticed how transparently thin were her +hands, which she tucked in her belt. Her neck had a lovely line in +its perfect sweep from the throat down. + +"You are an art student?" she asked, with a faint smirk. + +"Oh no--I'm on a paper--why?" + +"You examine like one." + +He flushed with the detection, and she gave a little laugh of triumph. + +"Sit down and tell me all about yourself--you puzzle me," she said. +"You look as if you'll do all sorts of wonderful things, but people +who look like that hardly ever do anything." + +He was easier now. They sat side by side on the lounge. + +"There's little to tell, Miss--" + +"Oh, drop that, I'm Tilly to every one." + +"Tilly then,--you see I haven't left school long." + +"I can see that--the down's on you yet." The remark hurt him and she +saw it, swiftly. + +"Don't mind me," she said quietly, putting a hand on his arm. "You +see I'm used to men that gloat and want rebuffing." + +She laughed at the surprise in John's eyes. + +"Don't look like that or I shall melt. You're a nice boy, and I'm +afraid of you." + +"Of me?" + +"Yes--you make me think of lots of things I've given up thinking +about. Harry must ask you to tea." + +So she was married! Of course she was married, he reflected, he was +a fool not to have known from the first. + +"I should like very much to come." + +She looked at him again, until he looked away, and with a little +laugh jumped up. "We must get back now. I'll see you soon. +Good-bye!" and she was gone. What an off-hand creature! He was +annoyed at her manner. She had treated him like an infant. She had +laughed at him. He had let her see too much. When the play was +ended and he stood in the crowded vestibule with Bailey, amid the +crush of fur-wrapped women and black-coated men, he was still +thinking of her. + +"You've made a hit with Tilly," said Bailey. + +"I!" + +"Yes--and she doesn't pay compliments--but don't let her play with +you; she doesn't take any one seriously." + +"I'm not likely to do that," replied John shortly. + +"Come along then--we've to get our work done." + + + +III + +Merritt, chief reporter of the _Daily Post_, was a remarkable little +man. He was quite aware of this and retained his reputation with +ease. The life of a chief reporter is a desperate one. The most +amazing news scoop to-day is dead twenty-four hours later, and a big +reputation can be lost in a day's idleness. Merritt showed no signs +of anxiety. He sat at his desk in the stuffy little room adjoining +the reporting room, whence he would dart out to send a man speeding +across London or to Aberdeen. His totally bald head gleamed with +vitality. He could be very rude and very rough, but men had rushed +to Ireland at his behest and accounted themselves rewarded when he +smiled and said "Good!" He was part of the _Daily Post_ and could +not conceive how a man could wish to live for anything else. No one +ever saw him go home and no one ever saw him come; he was the first +and the last, and when he had gone, he was not at rest. His voice +often spoke over the wire from Brixton, disturbing the early morning +rest of a jaded reporter. A fire at Muswell Hill, a murder in Camden +Town, a burglary in Knightsbridge or an assault at Tottenham--he knew +of it first, scented the clue, despatched the sleuth-hounds. + +It was rumoured that he was married, but for years there was no +evidence, until one day he disappeared and returned wearing black. +He had buried his eldest boy of twelve. The senior reporter to whom +he mentioned this was about to make a remark, and he saw Merritt's +mouth twitch, but the next second he was being told of an entry on +the diary. It was work, work, work. Other men fell ill, became +nervous wrecks, took to drink, were promoted, or left. Merritt +remained chief reporter, known from one end of Fleet Street to +another, perhaps from one end of the world to the other. He never +went out, save at four o'clock for an hour, when he would be seen in +a bar near by, within sound of the buses, and he went there for news. +He knew every one. Men in the Lobby of the "House," on the Stock +Exchange, in Whitehall or at Epsom would ask "How's Merritt?" He was +the link to publicity. He knew enough about the lives of men to +equip a squad of blackmailers; and K.C.s consulted him when accepting +briefs. He had saved a king from assassination and rescued a bishop +from a charge of being drunk and disorderly. He had witnessed a +succession of editors. Merritt stayed, for Merritt was the _Daily +Post_. + +But above all, this stout little man of fifty knew men. It was he +who discovered Burton Phipps, their star descriptive writer, had sent +him off to Norway to intercept and expose the sham explorer of the +Pole. Jane, the finest parliamentary sketch writer in England, was +trained under his hands. Merton, the editor of the _Morning +Telegraph_, Layman, the President of the Board of Trade, Reddington, +chairman of the United Banks--all had groaned in their youth under +his merciless yoke of discipline. Loved and feared, he spared no +man, and he never encountered rebellion because he never pitied +himself. "Merritt's a devil," every one said--"but a wonderful +devil," they added. + +He took John in hand. He made him compress a column of wonderful +writing to fifteen living lines. He made him re-dress a plain +narrative in a style that "tickled." He told John to use words of as +few syllables as possible. "All sub-editors are ignorant and full of +malice," he said, with traditional jealousy. He was never to worry +about what the public thought of this or that. "The public don't +think, they follow." It was a heartbreaking apprenticeship. The +fine column on the Kennel Show went into the waste paper basket. +"There's two murders come in and the subs say we're overset." He +ridiculed a "special" on teashop girls with rapier wit, told John he +wrote too fast to write well, and was as guileless as an infant in +arms. Once, with a brusque committal of a much-esteemed article, he +brought misery to John's eyes, saw it, and growled, + +"You're a journalist all right, but your stalk's green," and with his +wry smile brought a lump into the youth's throat. + +"Am I--am I giving satisfaction, Mr. Merritt?" + +The chief reporter looked over the top of his glasses-- + +"The Chief sent you to me for occasional work. You've done a +banquet, a dog-show, four police courts, three inquests, two plays, a +poster show and several special enquiries. You've been running about +like a hare for ten days--you've not been an occasional, but a daily +event. And I don't waste my time!" + +It was true, John was worked hard every day. Each night the diary +had the initials J.D. with a cryptic assignation following. +Sometimes he accompanied a senior, a note-taker, and looked out for a +descriptive paragraph; more often he was alone. On the night that he +had returned from his first play, after he had sent in his pencilled +copy to the subs room, he looked at the diary and almost jumped in +exultation.--"J.D. 7.15., Artists Union, Chelsea Theatre, half col." +Here was his chance! + + + +IV + +The members of the Artists Union were certainly artistic. A novelist +who specialised in love and divorce in the Sunday newspapers and was +dignified with the title of 'publicist' made a long tirade against +the ignorant but prosperous industrial classes. A young man followed +this, very nerve-racked and bordering on hysteria, with an oration +proving that hunger and genius were inseparable, whereupon a stout +lady at the back of the diminutive theatre rose up and declared that +all artists, musicians, and authors should be a direct charge on the +Government, a sentiment that was applauded loudly. Thoroughly +enjoying himself, John sat next to a young lady in a gaudy kimono who +was busy sketching the speakers, while a young man with a red beard +that half hid a very weak mouth, drank tea out of a thermos flask. A +wealthy lady, interested in art, occupied the chair, which must have +been very uncomfortable, for most of the brilliantly insulting things +said applied perfectly to her husband, a wholesale grocer, who, to +atone for disfiguring England with placards inciting the public to +drink Tiffinson's Tea, bought preposterous modern paintings at well +advertised figures. John discovered it was a gathering of minor +notabilities; there was Mr. Shandon Gunn, the cubist painter who +laboriously disguised the fact that he had ever studied at the Slade +School, or knew the meaning of perspective. When slightly drunk, he +was reputed to be epigrammatic. His speech was cheered vociferously +for its cleverness in conveying absolutely nothing to the audience. +He was followed by Mr. Leslie Bumbo, a pallid fellow, the apostle of +art with an ego, who wrote art books, and kept a book shop in a slum, +which revealed a knowledge of business, since the bookshop kept him. +Moreover, he led a culture movement for leisured ladies, who gathered +every Wednesday in a shanty at the back of his house, where, in a dim +light and a dim voice, he droned out his latest discourses on art. +It was remunerative if mournful, for the ladies paid a shilling for +admittance, bought the discourses and went home feeling gloriously +advanced. His speech this evening was confined to an embroidery on +"The Ugly as an incentive to Murder." + +John was indebted for personal details to the young lady in the +kimono, who called him "kid" and smoked incessantly while she drew. +Towards the end of the meeting she waved her hand to a girl who had +pushed forward in the crowded doorway. John looked and, with a +slight thrill of pleasure, recognised Tilly. In the conversazione +that ensued when the formal meeting ended, they sat in a corner +together and drank coffee. She knew everybody and introduced him +freely as "Scissors." When the company was going, Tilly, who had +collected a small crowd, caught hold of John's arm. + +"Come along, Scissors!" she cried, propelling him towards the door. + +"Where?" he asked. + +"To my studio--we're having a romp." + +"But I can't go--I've to get my copy ready for the office." + +"Oh damn!" + +He wished she hadn't said it. Perhaps he was old-fashioned, but +somehow, a girl who used that word was a little--er? That was what +John could not precisely say; he had been trying to since their first +meeting. He did not want to appear a prig, and yet--. He knew +Muriel would not approve, but he laughed at the thought. A speaker +had been attacking the Victorians for their smugness--well, he was +being very early Victorian. + +"Come on, kid," cried the young lady in the kimono. He stood between +Scylla and Charybdis. A vision of Merritt nerved him to resistance. + +"Then come after, we'll go on till three or four." Weakly he +declined and weakly he surrendered. He took the address and promised +to return as soon as he could. It was half-past one when his work +was done, and he knocked at the door of Birch Lodge Studios, No. 4, +off the King's Road. There was a great noise of revelry within. +When the door opened, he found himself in a large room, with a +half-roof of sloping glass through which the moon peered down. A +dozen Chinese lanterns illuminated the room and were reflected in the +polished floor whereon about twenty couples were dancing to the music +of a gramophone. + +"Scissors, you dear!" cried Tilly, as he entered. "I didn't think +you'd come." + +"But I promised," he said, as she took his overcoat. The next moment +she had taken him in her arms and they were whirling through the maze +of the dance. She was hot and the studio was stuffy, and there was a +languor in the manner in which she hung in his arms that was +half-trustful and half-seductive. At the far end of the room, where +the candle of the lantern was guttering, it was almost dark as they +danced round. She gave a little laugh as the candle went out, her +mouth provokingly near to his, her eyes softly luminous in the +moonlight falling through the glass. The rhythm, the warmth, the +music worked upon him; he was whirling, he knew not where. For a +moment he hesitated, then laughed as she laughed, and the next moment +quenched his boyish thirst on her lips. Convulsively she clung a +moment, then collapsed softly in his arms, and he experienced a +strength that was weakness, a tenderness that was cruelty. He +paused, floundering in a sea of the senses. + +"Go on," she whispered, for the other couples in rotation were +crowding upon them. She pushed him round, but not before the girl in +the kimono swirled by and laughed out. + +"Caught you that time!" + +The tone was vile, the accent inexpressibly vulgar; it jarred on the +excited youth who danced dizzily. Tilly, more acutely alive and now +self-possessed, felt her partner give a shiver of disgust. + +"Let's sit this out--I don't want to dance any more--please." + +They sat on a camp bed along the main wall, in silence. + +"You're angry," she whispered looking at him coyly. + +"I'm not." + +"Oh, yes you are--look at me, you sulky boy." + +He looked into her mischievous eyes, and he had to laugh. + +She twined her fingers with his. + +"That's sensible," she said. "We're only young once," and she let +her head rest on his shoulder, her soft hair warmly clouding his +cheek. The next moment he was holding her with all the strength of +his lissome young body, and laughed delightedly when she winced at +his ardour. Yes, he was only young once. + + "_--way down in Tennessee,_" + +whined the gramophone. Only a few were dancing now. Little bursts +of laughter and chatter came from dusky groups around the studio. It +was all rather unearthly in that aromatic atmosphere. Some one wound +up the gramophone and put on a new record-- + + "_While shepherds watched their flocks by night + All seated on the--_" + + +"Oh, stop it," came a voice, and there was a laugh all round. + +"Got 'em mixed," responded another. "Here's 'In Alabama'--how's +that?" The gramophone whirred on, and the dancing began again. + +It was nearly three when the guests began to depart. John knew none +of them. He had not seen their faces clearly all the night, but they +somehow knew his name was "Scissors," and treated him familiarly. +Most of the men were about his own age, the women a little older. +The humourist of the party, whom they called "The Doc" was about +forty-five and seemed to father the assembly. + +"Don't go yet," said Tilly as she stood by the door. "I'm not a bit +sleepy and I want to talk." He stood aside and let the others go. +At last only one girl remained. + +John came back to earth abruptly. + +"Where's Mr. Adams--I haven't seen him all the evening." + +"Harry?--oh, I don't know--he comes in when he likes," replied Tilly, +drawing up a chair to the anthracite stove. She began talking to the +other girl Fanny, who presently rose and said, "Good night," +disappearing into another room. + +"Is she staying with you?" asked John. + +"Who--Fanny?--no, we live here together. She's getting married next +week, poor kid, to a little blighter. Lord knows why she picked +him--or why any girl marries at all." + +"But--you're married!" said John, surprised. + +She stared at him. + +"Married--whatever makes you think that?" + +"I thought Mr. Adams--" + +Tilly interrupted him with a short laugh. + +"You've been listening to gossip. Everybody says I'm going to marry +him--but I say not. I'm not going to keep any man, and that's what +marrying a man of genius means." + +But John cared nothing for the philosophy. He was relieved, for the +last two hours he had felt an unmitigated bounder. A new +cheerfulness swept over him, and Tilly noticed it. + +"Why, you're waking up--you've been like a bear with a sore head!" + +"I'm sorry," he said, simply. + +"All right, Scissors!" She slid on to her knees at his feet. "And +kissing's no harm," she sighed, looking up into his face. "And oh, +I'm so lonely at times!" + +She pulled his face downwards with her tiny hands, and ran her +fingers through his hair. The sensation made him laugh as he slipped +his arms under hers and drew her upwards until their lips met. In +the darkness he could hear the beating of their hearts, and the +silence singing in his ears. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Annie had been upstairs three times that morning to see if Mr. Dean's +shoes had been taken inside his room. But the door was still closed +and the shoes on the mat outside. At last she gave away her secret +hero. + +"Mr. Dean's not up yet," she said reluctantly to Mrs. Perdie, as she +came downstairs to the kitchen. "Shall I keep his breakfast 'ot?" + +"What?--not down? Why it's half past ten! Have you cleared away +yet?" cried Mrs. Perdie, emerging wet-handed from the scullery and a +brisk encounter with saucepans. "We can't keep breakfast going into +lunch time." + +Annie halted, she did not expect an order that would deprive her +favourite of his breakfast. + +"You'd better take it up on a tray to his room," said Mrs. Perdie, +relenting--"and I'll speak to him when he comes down." She +disappeared again into the scullery where she thought long on the +ways of young men and how cruelly the wicked city corrupted them. +Lying in bed late had been the first sign of Mr. Perdie's breakdown. +Once a man began to lie late, his backbone went, of that there was no +question. She tolerated such a thing with de Courtrai and Wellington +on the top floor. It was in keeping with their characters. Weedy +young men in a fast profession might be expected to lie in bed in the +morning, even at the cost of losing breakfast. + +Strange to say, the one who suffered most, Annie, who carried up the +breakfast, grumbled least. She tapped, gently at Mr. Dean's door, to +absolve her conscience, but not to wake him, then she tiptoed in. He +was fast asleep--though she could see very little of him, with his +head buried in the pillow and the sheets hunched up round his +shoulders. Cautiously she drew up the blind and flooded the room +with light. Then she placed a small table at the side of the bed. +Still he slept. For a few moments she stood in romantic +contemplation of his tousled head, with its ravelled locks. How +lovely he looked, with his boyish colour and his strong throat. His +pyjama jacket, unbuttoned, gave a glimpse of a strong chest. Greatly +daring, she leaned forward. Just once she would do it--she might +never have the chance again--and oh, she had wanted to, so many +times. Often she had longed he would just come and put his arms +round her and kiss her fiercely--she wouldn't have minded if he had +been cruel even. She stooped and very lightly kissed his hair, just +where it fell in a mass to one side of his brow, and she felt her +very heart would betray her. But he slept on, unconscious of all the +love poured out over him. Softly Annie went out. She halted on the +threshold with the tray in her hand, flushed and trembling with +excitement. + +"Lor--I'm daft!" she thought, and then walked loudly into the room +and deposited the tray on the table with a bang. + +"Here's breakfast, Mr. Dean. It's half past ten and missus says she +can't keep it any longer!" + +He was awake in an instant. + +"Good heavens--I've overslept!" + +"I should think y'ave, Mr. Dean--that's being up 'o nights at them +dances." + +John laughed. + +"Captain Fisher's been asking for you, Mr. Dean, He's very excited at +breakfast about something in the papers. He says you're a remarkable +gentleman. He was so excited." + +"But what about, Annie?" asked John stretching. + +"I don't know that, sir, but he wants to see you--come in drunk last +night 'e did, and was 'orribly rude to Miss Simpson, on the landing. +Said he hated damn gramophones grinding hymn tunes over his head. He +apologised this morning and now says he's been grossly insulted +because Miss Simpson didn't say anything, but gave him a temperance +tract. The missus had to speak to them both and the Captain gave +notice." + +"When does he go?" asked John, cracking his egg. The gossip of this +caravanserai amused him. + +"He never does go; he always gives notice when Mrs. Perdie says what +she thinks," replied Annie. "'Ow could he go anywhere else when all +know 'is little 'abbits? But I've got a lot to do. The tea orl +right, Mr. Dean?" she said, moving to the door. + +"Quite, Annie, thank you," he replied smiling at her. She closed the +door on her hero with a resolute sniff. + +Drinking his tea, with a head clearing, John became reflective. This +would really not do. Half of the morning gone, and he was due at the +office at twelve! Then his mind went back to the night before, and +to Tilly. It had all been rather hectic. Now he thought of it, he +had been a decided fool, sitting there until the early morn, just +holding in his arms and kissing a girl whom he had not known six +hours, and who called him "a dear kid." Why had he behaved like +that? He was lonely perhaps--and he had amused himself, that was +all. He didn't, couldn't love her, and certainly she had never for a +moment thought of him in that way. Turning to pour out some more +tea, his eyes fell on a framed photograph on his dressing table. +Yes, he had been a bounder--he couldn't tell _her_, she wouldn't +understand, for even he did not. And yet, if he met Tilly again--he +dismissed the idea deliberately, but remembered in doing so that he +_would_ meet her again. There was a dance at the Studio next Friday. +No,--he must not go there again. + +He slipped out of bed, and bath towel in hand, surveyed himself +critically in the glass. Did he look a rake? Was dissipation +stamping its marks upon him? But the vision in the mirror was that +of youth, flawless in careless health and grace. + +When he appeared in the hall downstairs, and Mrs. Perdie hurried +forth to give a little motherly advice, he looked such a slim picture +of radiant youth, his dark eyes shining, his face gleaming, with high +spirits bubbling over, that she lost the opening words of her +prepared overture, and worshipped for a moment, after which her +chance was gone, for Captain Fisher emerged from the drawing-room, +newspaper in hand. He flourished it in John's face. + +"Egad, sir, it's great--I've not laughed so much for years--you've +got the real touch--I always thought those Bohemians were mad." + +He touched his forehead with the rolled-up copy of the _Daily Post_. + +"May I look a moment?" asked John, a little bewildered. He opened +the paper on the third page and saw his name in black type. The +editor had put it to the description of the Artists Union meeting. +John suppressed a shout of triumph. There was his name true enough, +"John Dean," with three quarters of a column of close print +following! Of course, the House of Commons was not sitting, so space +was plentiful; still there was his name, for all the world to see! + +The omnibus that carried him on its top that gay spring morning as it +wound its way past the Victoria Station down Victoria Street, under +the grey front of Westminster Abbey façade, on up lordly Whitehall, +might have been the steeds of Apollo the sun-god, so radiantly rode +youth through the world, all civilisation singing about him, +organised for his delight. He remembered hearing an odd remark of +Merritt's one night. + +"The first time you hit a bull's eye with the Chief, he gives you +credit for it--there's your name on the target--but you've to be a +marksman for that to happen." And it had happened. For the first +time he experienced confidence, he was now conscious of approval. +Before, it had been like dropping his articles down a drain. They +disappeared for ever. + +Merritt said nothing to him at the office, but in the afternoon, as +he sat writing a letter in the reporters' room, the door of Merritt's +little office opened. There was a sound of laughter within, and John +caught sight of Phipps, who had just returned from a conference at +Vienna, on which he had been writing with customary brilliance. John +had never spoken to their leading man, who was as dizzily remote from +his humble inquest-police-court haunting orbit, as the Pleiades from +the sun. + +"Dean," called Merritt, putting his head round the doorway. John +went in. "I want to introduce you to Burton Phipps," he said. +Phipps rose and held out his hand to him. John could not see him +clearly in the sensation of the moment. Why was he so ridiculously +sensitive that his eyes watered, whenever something really wonderful +happened? He gulped and heard Phipps praising and laughing about his +article. + +"Are you doing anything?" asked Phipps. + +"No, sir." + +"Come out and have tea with me then. Good-bye, Merritt." + +"Good-bye--Phipps." + +John followed as in a dream. + +Outside they crossed the square, plunging into the five o'clock +traffic vortex below Ludgate Circus, walked a short way and then +turned into a narrow entry. Through a couple of swing doors they +found a hall, whose walls were plastered with notices, and then a +lounge with small tables. A few men nodded to Phipps, the diminutive +waiter smiled as on an old friend when taking the order for tea. + +Now for the first time John was able to look critically at his new +friend. It was a face and head of arresting dignity, beauty almost. +Of small build, he was a slim, compact man of about thirty-five with +a boyish expression. He was pale, his eyes a steely grey, very +intense, with points of light in the pupils, glowing and alive in +contrast to the general pallor of the brow. His hair was short and +slightly wavy, the nose arched and Roman. It was a chiselled face, +that of a man of thought, into whose lines had passed the experience +of emotion, suffering perhaps. It was, in a curious way, a face, +ascetic and carven, that suggested sorrow, sprung from contemplation +rather than life's trials. And the voice was in accordance with this +impression, for it was deep, with notes of rich melancholy, the voice +of a great preacher. To John, he seemed much as he would have +expected to find one of the knights of the Round Table, a strong, +handsome personality--yet human, and sensitive to the beauty of life +as well as its ugliness. There was a quick nervousness in the shape +and movement of the hands, the right fingers being stained with +nicotine, for he was an incessant smoker of cigarettes. In his talk +he had a sense of humour which seemed to belie the seriousness of his +expression, but that may have been due to his subject, for John had +got him to talk of his famous adventure at a Grand Duke's wedding +when he had figured as a foreign statesman and given Fleet Street an +"inside" story that kept it talking for twenty-four hours--a long +time for Fleet Street to discuss any subject. + +Then he told John something of his experiences as a war correspondent +in the Balkan War. + +"A bloody, horrible business. I can hardly forgive the folly of men, +Dean. There are people here talking about our next war--with +Germany. What insanity--and what wickedness! If only they had seen +and not read about war. I don't think there's any war worth +fighting." + +"Not for honour?" + +"Were they ever fought for that?" Phipps looked at him piercingly. + +"I suppose not," assented John. + +"And in future, there'll be no war worth winning," he said in his +deep voice. "The price of the effort will out-value the prize. +Well, if another war comes along, thank heaven I shall be too old for +sending telegrams to the British Public about its picturesque +bloodiness." + +When they had parted John felt he had made a new friend. That was +the marvel of London. You met the men who did things; you were at +the hub of creation, their names and faces were familiar with the +day. Steer, Ribble, Phipps--what would some men have given for his +good fortune? + +When he arrived back at the office, word came that the Chief wanted +to see him. He went through to the Secretary's room. + +"Oh--Mr. Walsh's just going--I'll ask if he'll see you." + +He came back a moment later and ushered John in. + +Walsh sat at his littered desk. + +"Sit down, Dean. Do you know French?" + +"A little, sir." + +"Do you speak it?--can you be understood and understand?" + +"I--I hope so sir." + +Walsh smiled. + +"And how much Danish?" + +John looked surprised. "Danish, sir?" + +The editor laughed and then got up, putting his hand on the youth's +shoulder. + +"Don't let that worry you--England was proud of possessing a Viking's +daughter as queen, but few of us know a word of her language. On +Friday, I want you to go to Copenhagen to an international telegraph +conference. It will last a fortnight. Merritt will tell you what we +want, and our man in Copenhagen will look after you. You will go to +Harwich and cross to Esbjerg. The cashier will give you the +necessary money. I hope you'll enjoy the trip. Good-bye." + +He touched a bell, his secretary came in, John went out. Dizzily he +walked back to his room. Travel! And he was a special +correspondent! He could envision the italicised words, the magic +words he had seen under Phipps' name. "_Our Special Correspondent._" +To Merritt he stammered out the news, but the unimpressionable +Merritt seemed to know all about it. + +"Keep your mouth shut until you go--or others will be green with +envy. They can't help it, poor fellows. Half of them are plodders, +and you don't work for all you do--it's just in you, that's all. +That's half the tragedy of life--to the plodders. You needn't come +in to-morrow. I'll look up the boats and trains." + +Outside, in the street, John stood for a moment, while the world went +by him. A queer fellow Merritt. How he had humbled that +triumph--"half the tragedy of life--to the plodders." Somehow it +made his exultation seem childish and mean. They were such good +fellows too, full of kindness, and a spirit of give and take, and he, +the newest among them, the cub, was racing ahead. It must be bitter. +They filed before him--merry little Bewley, daring and audacious, +Lawton, the dreamer and writer of rejected verse, Russell, the +ponderous, saving hard for a home and sentimental about children, +Johnson, who longed to retire on a farm--name after name, each +coupled with hopes and ambitions. + +And now his chance had come. He must tell some one. He went back +into the clerk's office and rang up Mrs. Graham. Yes, she was in and +would be delighted if he would dine with her. At the Temple Station +he booked for Sloane Square, his nearest point to her flat in Cheyne +Walk. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +I + +The success that fell upon John Dean did not delude him. He had been +unnerved too young to feel trustful toward life. While everybody +called him lucky or blessed by the gods, and prophesied the dizzy +heights to which good fortune would carry him, he was, nevertheless, +suspicious. Twelve months had gone by since he had secured his +position with fine work at Copenhagen. That mission, which from an +incident had developed into an important European situation, he had +handled in a masterly manner for his years and inexperience. Some +men in Fleet Street called him precocious, others, less complimentary +and less successful, brazen-faced. Phipps, with whom a warm +friendship had grown up, called him "an amazing child," and laughed +good-naturedly over the adroitness with which he had got his +despatches through ahead of his colleagues. They had met, about +mid-June, at Warsaw, whence Phipps was bound for Constantinople to +report on the Young Turk party and the revolutions. It was the +following Spring when they met again, and greatly to John's delight, +Phipps had hunted up Ali, at college in Constantinople, and had +brought back news that the finely grown young Turkish gentleman, now +a keen follower of Enver Bey, had talked rapturously of John and the +early days at Amasia. + +"You must be one of his gods, Dean, by the way he spoke of you." + +"We were great friends, I remember. I often wondered if he still +recalled me. We have ceased to write--how strange to think he is now +a big fellow--he used to be so shy." + +Phipps had brought a letter for him. Later, in his own room, John +had broken the seal and read it. It was a strange epistle, one +moment full of the formality of the Orient, and then suddenly +passionate, breaking into ornate declarations of eternal friendship. +But it was Ali, as of old, and as John read, there were the old +scents of that gorge in his nostrils; he could hear the tinkle of the +Yeshil Irmak as it ran down, moon-silvered, over the stones, and, as +the moon peered into the dark ravine, the distant drone of the drums +in the valley. The old thrill was still in his blood. + + +"_O sworn brother, I clasp your hands and look into those wonderful +eyes of yours. Still am I Ali, your proud servant, still would I +follow you, John effendi. Often I think of you in the night time +when the _caiques_ are at rest by the Galata Bridge, and the moon +floods the cypress groves. Often I wonder if still that gift of mine +is with you. Your friend tells me that you prosper, that you are +fair to behold, a leader among men. It is well. I knew this would +be, of old. Sad that manhood is upon us and that we hear not the +voice of each other. Still in my heart you linger. In time, it may +be we meet, and oh, beloved friend, the joy that shall fall upon us, +Insh'allah._" + + +On the night he received the letter, John went round to Lindon's flat +at Battersea, which overlooked the river and Chelsea on the opposite +bank. It was a grey Spring evening, and the great flood ran linked +with lights reflected in the stream; the beauty of melancholy was on +the face of things. John stood staring out of the window. Lindon +was playing by candle light; now grasping fame as a pianist, he was +attractive and forceful as ever. John watched his splendid head +between the candles on either side, as it moved with the rhythm of a +Brahms waltz. Suddenly the player stopped. + +"A penny, Scissors," he said, seeing the deep gaze. John laughed and +looked out of the window again. + +"They're not worth it--only--I often wonder, Lindon, if ever we quite +realize the whole wonder of life--of this--of friendship, of youth? +It's all slipping by and it's so good, and we make so little of it." + +Lindon rose, walked across to the window and put his arm in John's. + +"Scissors, you're quite an old sentimentalist. Of course it's +good--and we enjoy it, at least I know I do." + +They watched the sunset fade in silence. When a last line of flame +had died into the grey bank of cloud, John spoke. It was evidently +the end of some thoughts. + +"It will have been worth it--when it all ends and we look back. I've +been lucky." + +"Ends? What a morbid fellow you are! Why ends? It's all just +beginning, Scissors! Why we've got the world at our feet!" Lindon +laughed. It was so hearty and infectious that at any other time, +John would have laughed too. All's letter had upset him a little. +He shivered in his chair. + +"You know, it's silly, Lindon--but I feel there's a tragedy coming. +Life's just too good--it won't behave always like this. It waits and +then pounces and you are in its grip." + +"Rot!--Scissors. Let's have the light on, it's getting creepy." + +"No--I want you to play--" + +"What, in the dark?" + +"Please--play that Brahms again--I can see all kinds of pictures." + +For a moment, Lindon hesitated and then, seeing the earnest appeal in +John's eyes, shook him playfully and went over to the grand. + +"I shall have to feel my way, Scissors." + +But he played very softly and with great feeling. John sat in the +window and let the rich music flow over him in that growing darkness. +It was of Ali he thought; and then he was a little boy on the +verandah, in the arms of a grown man; suddenly he was standing with +him under an almond tree in blossom, and the man's head was bowed in +grief; out of the dusk came face after face; what did they here in +this scented Eastern Garden? He caught the swift animation of +Marsh's glance, about to speak; there was Vernley, the old poise of +the head he knew so well; and, somehow, Mr. Fletcher was with them. +How wonderfully Lindon was playing--and how insistently came the +muffled pulse of a drum, perhaps down the gorge in the old deserted +Khan. He must follow it--how it beat through his brain, insistent +and full of wonder. He was going towards it, strangely elated. + +It was quite dark when Lindon struck the last chord and let the sound +flow through the room before the pedal-release curtained the room in +silence. + +John started, as if rudely awakened. + + + +II + +It was a London he knew now. He had followed the long social +programme reaching its climax in June. He watched the fashionable +crowd at Burlington House on private view day; the smaller, but more +interesting gathering at the Grosvenor Galleries when the +International Society's show opened; concerts at Queen's Hall, first +nights at the theatre, garden parties, polo at Hurlingham, the Derby +and Goodwood,--all these things occupied his days. It was a vivid, +everchanging experience, this life of the journalist, and with it all +he touched many circles and found new friends. The cranks, the +idealists, the hard relentless men of affairs, the propagators of +creeds,--he met them all, and from them learned something. There was +a soft spot in the heart of most men if you could touch it; they were +very human in one aspect, though he stood appalled at the pace +humanity set itself in the mad race to success. How many of these +hectic men and women ever realized what life was? They dared not +stop to contemplate. On, on, on, lest the horror of their own entity +should frighten them. They feared themselves, they must never be +left to themselves. Solitude meant madness--there was forgetfulness +flowing down the crowded thoroughfares. + +"Only artificial people praise the country--they feel so superior to +it," said Harry Merivale, brightly, as he sat at lunch in the Union +Club, where John was the guest of Major Slade. The company laughed +at this statement; it was the applause that always spurred Merivale +to further efforts in the preposterous. At thirty he had been +considered a wit and a man of promise. Now at forty cautious men +shook their heads and looked suspiciously at the flippant +monologue-artist. Merivale was an advanced revolutionary on five +thousand a year. Three years as private secretary to Lord Eastbourne +had filled him with contempt for those who did not decorate their +titles. Merivale, who developed his sense of the theatre assiduously +and derived pleasure from the fact that persons thought must be +descended from the famous historian of the Roman Empire, was a +precisian. He pronounced his words, despite the pace of an utterance +made to prevent interruption, with unction; he was as careful about +their use as he was careless about their meaning. He would have +sacrificed his grandmother for an epigram. + +His attire was as precise as his small flat in Mayfair. He hoped he +was the last to preserve the traditions of the Augustan age. He read +Locke "On the Human Understanding" in a room hung with choice +examples of Signorelli, Lippo Lippi and Angelico. His furniture was +Chippendale, his books were all leather bound. Sometimes in a long +monologue on the bad government of the age, he quoted John Stuart +Mill. He refused to recognise any novelist since Fielding, any +musician since Handel. The last statesman died with Pitt the +younger. The only persons he really respected were his valet and his +banker. They both moved in the best circles. Major Slade collected +his epigrams and performed the office of an enlarging mirror. He +spoke of Merivale with a note of melancholy as of a man who could +have been great had it not been vulgar. Merivale himself found +comfort in this reflection; after all, he was, among the crowd, the +one man self-possessed. + +His day was perfectly ordered, his trousers perfectly creased. A +vellum bound copy of "Marius the Epicurean" always lay on a bedside +table. He had a model bachelor's rooms, and kept a full diary. He +envied the poor their indifference to dirt and despised the rich for +their contempt of brains. He had a beautiful voice, an unfailing +eloquence and a safe income; few men had attacked the dinner tables +of Mayfair with more perfect, if restricted, assets. + +John met Merivale at the Phyllis Court Club, where he had been +staying for Henley Regatta. Marsh was rowing for his college, +Vernley and his people were also at the club. Merivale was known to +Mr. Vernley, who delighted in pairing him with Marsh, now a brilliant +extempore antagonist. Those had been great days at Henley. Marsh +was radiant. Never had John seen him more audacious, more +triumphant. Merivale, disconcerted, admired, and, being an astute +tactician, adopted Marsh as his pupil. Their dinner table was the +noisiest, their little set the most conspicuous. They all registered +a vow to spend August together on the East Coast. + +These were days of supreme happiness. Evenings in Mrs. Graham's +charmed circle, the intellectual stimulus of a supper gathering at +Mr. Ribble's house, the glimpse of home, obtained at Steer's, where +the nursery woke to riotous mirth with the advent of "Uncle John"--or +those marvellously perfect dinner parties at Slade's house in Braham +Gardens, with guests as carefully chosen as the menu; the air of +self-possession and quiet mannered ease, the atmosphere in short +which is the inseparable adjunct of the Wykehamist the world +over--or, turbulent and youthful, the late dance-parties in Tilly's +studio--with Tilly, deep in love this time with the attractive young +pianist whom John had brought along one evening--yes, it was a +splendid life, with every hour booked ahead, and heights of glory for +youth to scale. + +But, in all these things the most ardent, John turned aside at +moments and his thoughts were far away. If Muriel were here among +his friends, to share this wine of youth! At night-time, often in +the stillness of the long stone streets, so solemn at mid-night, as +he walked home, he would wonder just how she lay pillowed in her bed +in a room he knew not in the Convent of the Sacred Heart. A +momentary glimpse held him in the spell of recollection--the way her +little hand tucked away a rebellious curl behind the ear, even the +way she had of nibbling at a concert programme! And to see her run +up a flight of steps--up the terrace at "The Croft," and then turn at +the top, breathless and flushed, her eyes shining! Why was she +exiled from him? It was cruel to waste the ardour of their youth in +this senseless fashion. + +On his last visit to the Vernleys, he could no longer keep silent +upon his dream. Quickly, bluntly almost, he poured out his whole +heart before Mr. Vernley, who listened to him with a kindly +tolerance. It might end everything; he would have to leave the +house, of course, but this dual existence was intolerable. To his +surprise Mr. Vernley just placed his hand on his shoulder, and said +very kindly-- + +"You must be patient, my boy--you are but boy and girl yet. +Twenty-one--and so much before you yet. Just wait, John, and then +we'll talk seriously." + +"But I'm very serious, sir." + +Mr. Vernley smiled in his kindly fashion. + +"That is why you should wait. Come, John--suppose we talk of this in +a year?" He looked at the intense young face before him. + +"Then you--you don't forbid me, sir--I mean I may hope--" he +stammered. + +"The verdict is with Muriel, John. She will know her own mind soon, +and when she is home and has been presented, then you two can decide. +I am not so old-fashioned as to think a father can do other than +advise. If I say 'Good luck' to you, will that suffice for the +present?" + +"Oh, thank you, sir!" cried John, gladly. + +So ended the overture. It was a phase successfully passed. The +young lovers breathed freely again. Time was the enemy now. + +The summer wore on. There were visits to the Fletchers and to +Marsh's. + +"Mother's another 'ism," said Marsh, meeting him at the station. +"They come and go like Dad's pipes. She's a Sunphoner this time--all +gladness and love is transmitted on rays of light. To smile is to +love. Clouds, which obstruct sunshine, are agglomerations of sin. +When you frown you are abetting the devil. Mother carefully +cultivates the gladsome wrinkles of the sunphoners. Dad calls it the +Cheshire Cat Society." + +John found her as sweet and gentle as before. Always in her hands +there seemed to be flowers, and the birds sang louder in her garden. +Were any evenings, anywhere, more restful than those around her lamp? +Mr. Marsh came and went from the study. His hair was a little +whiter, his belief in the _Nation_ even more unshakable. As for +Marsh, was there any one in the world quite like this tall, perverse, +quick-spoken humourist? Mrs. Marsh sat and worshipped, her hands +ever busy in his service, and John thought he treated her like a +fluttered bird, something to be petted and soothed. + +"It is splendid to watch over your success, John," she confided one +evening. "But please don't let success harden you." + +"Am I hardening?" + +"No--perhaps not--it's youth changing, I suppose--I would like to +keep that first glimpse of you--when Teddie brought you here--so +nervous." + +John laughed happily, and held her hand which, somehow, had found its +way into his. + +"What a silly little woman I am," she whispered. + +"I think you're a darling," he responded, "and Teddie's a lucky boy." + +It was good to fall asleep in that little chintz-curtained room, to +watch the moon climbing through the elm-tree branches, to hear the +owl screech and the church clock strike in the dead of night, or to +wake with bird song in the cold freshness of the country morning. +Then Teddie would bang about, pyjama-clad with tousled hair, uttering +some fantastic epigram, or a new plan for exasperating the +conservative-minded. + +It was he who, one morning in Grafton Street, saw in the shop window +of an antique dealer, a small bronze statue labelled "Narcissus +listening to Echo." + +"Scissors!" he cried, clutching his arm. "There's your namesake, +minus tailor's trimmings!" + +In a moment he had rushed into the shop. A fierce discussion ensued +with the bespectacled Jew, who began a recital starting at +Herculaneum B.C., but was interrupted in the Italian Renaissance by +Marsh, who calmly offered him half what he asked. They haggled and +scorned each other while John wondered which traced his ancestry to +Judæa; then Marsh conquered at his original bid. + +They bore it home, swaddled in _The Times_, to John's room. John +protested, he could not let Marsh pay so much for a present, but all +his protests were over-ruled. + +"Of course you must have it--and offer libations to your great +ancestor. What a leg he's got--he could do with more meat on his +torso and less on his toes, while you could--" + +"Don't be rude," interrupted John. + +"It was a trick of the Phidian period of sculpture to lengthen the +tibia to ensure--" on went the dissertation. Mid-way through a +comparison of Michael Angelo with Benvenuto Cellini, there was a +sudden explosion. + +"The old devil!" cried Marsh, looking closely at the statue. "He's +swindled us--it's cracked over the thigh--look!" + +John looked. There was a fissure in the bronze about an inch long. + +"An appendicitis operation," said John. + +"I'll take it back," cried Marsh indignantly. + +"Don't--I like the lad better for his imperfections--he's more human." + +So the statue remained, raising its finger in a listening attitude on +the bookshelf, recalling with an antique grace an artist's triumph in +a dead civilisation. It revived, indeed, a pagan creed in the Perdie +household. True, Mrs. Perdie was shocked by "that 'eathen thing +without its coverings," and Annie simpered whenever she swept the +feather brush over it, but Miss Simpson's eyes watered when she saw +it, for she recalled how her dear brother, the Governor, had shown it +to her in the museum at Naples--"when I was quite a girl, and +Lieutenant Ranson, a charming young gentleman, was going to buy me a +copy, but--" + +John had seen his portrait on her table, and had looked silently at +the laughing face of the lover, drowned a week after it was taken. + +Wellington and de Courtrai borrowed "Narcissus" for a tea party they +gave, with great success, to a crowd of ladies and gentlemen from the +theatre. + +"Yer can't see fer face powder in the air," commented Annie, after +taking in the tea. John was a guest. He enjoyed hearing them lie so +magnificently to each other about the salaries they earned and the +promises made by managers. Yet they were good-hearted backbiters, +loving the venom for the chameleonic skill with which their tongues +struck the victims, intending no permanent harm to any one. They all +showed the worst side to the world and kept their private griefs +smothered in the dreary back rooms of dingy lodging houses. For all +their cheapness, Wellington and de Courtrai had hearts of gold. They +had nursed him through a bad attack of influenza, with unwearying +devotion, and no woman's hand could have ministered more skilfully +and patiently. Their artificiality was on the surface, their +feminine air companioned a feminine tenderness to each other--and on +this occasion, to John. Even Captain Fisher, when they cooked his +breakfast, on the sudden collapse of Mrs. Perdie and Annie with +influenza, declared they were born batmen. + +"If they'd take a cold bath every morning and crop their hair, they +might pass as men," he growled. They would have won him completely +by their attentions during those influenza days had they not called +him "dear," in conversation on the third morning, whereupon Captain +Fisher spilt his coffee in an apoplectic rage. + + + +III + +It was during those weeks of July that Lindon arrived at a condition +which to John seemed hysterical. Ever since he had taken him to +Tilly's studio he had haunted the place like a silent ghost; that he +was madly in love with her he made no attempt to hide, and she, no +less than he, found the day dull when he was absent. He vowed that +Tilly was necessary to his music; he could not work without her, +there was no quality in his playing unless he played to her. One +night, after John had dined at his flat, Lindon walked up and down +the room, pouring out his agony of mind. His people had refused to +allow him to marry yet. "I'm tied up with an allowance, +Scissors--and I can't go on--we can't go on--it's hell!" + +"We?--is Tilly unwilling to wait?" + +"Yes, to wait--like me--why should we lead this miserable divided +life, when we belong to each other, when there's no existence apart? +I tell you it's immoral! Why shouldn't I marry--in the vigour of +youth, with a girl in a million. It's natural, it's right--and we're +told to wait--for what? Till we're wiser, if you please. Wiser!--oh +my God! Madness, that's how it'll end!" + +Suddenly he turned upon his heel and looked at John, who sat quietly +in a chair. + +"Scissors, sometimes you make me want to kick you--you agree with +'em! Have you got an ounce of passion in you? Do you know what sex +means? I doubt it. Why, there are nights I can't sleep, when I +think such things as--but you never seem to be aware of anything. I +have seen you dancing with girls, your face like a wax mummy. Why +when I take hold of them, sometimes I want to make them cry out in my +grip, and when their hair touches my face, I--I--" + +He halted then, and caught John's wrists in a vice. + +"I don't believe you've ever felt like crying about a girl just +because she's been pleasant to another fellow, or wanted to gather +her up in your arms and carry her off to a secret place." + +The younger man broke away from the frenzied grip. + +"Lindon, I shall think you are mad in a minute." + +"I am--do you wonder? Here am I, a vigorous man, with abundance of +life singing through every vein, all nature crying out for me to +express myself, and night and day I fight the desire down, hold +myself in leash, shut up in these four walls--you must know what it +means, you're no longer a kid. Nature never intended this, she meant +us to break the barriers. We're all defying her; I am, you are, +Tilly is--and it's all wrong!" He looked desperately at John. + +"I don't think love is a thing that you can talk about in this way," +said the other quietly. + +"For you--perhaps not--you're not hot-blooded like me--you're +self-contained. But I'm not like that, I must have somebody I +worship. Why, do you know at Sedley, it was you--there, now you know +I'm mad." He laughed bitterly. + +"I knew," said John, looking out of the window. + +"You knew that I cared about you?" asked Lindon. They heard the +clock tick in the long interval of silence. + +"Yes--I could see you liked me very much, and I was afraid of you--I +was told you were very jealous." + +"By Vernley?" + +"Yes." + +Lindon laughed rather grimly. + +"You see how I torture myself--I don't suppose I'm normal," he added +bitterly. + +"No one in love is," added John, half to himself. + +Lindon looked at him keenly. + +"How do you know that?" + +"You're not the only lover, I suppose?" + +For a moment Lindon stared at him; there was such a depth of feeling +in those simple words. Impulsively, he linked his arm in John's. + +"Scissors, old thing, forgive me. I'm a selfish beast--why do you +let me carry on in this childish way?" + +John half smiled in reply. + +"Because I've often wanted to myself. After all, you know, you +should be grateful--Chelsea's nearer than Belgium." + + + +IV + +The last week in July saw a great re-union. The Vernleys had taken a +house at Mablethorpe, on the East Coast, for the summer. Its chief +attraction was that it possessed no distractions. There were neither +pierrots, promenades, theatres, nor any of the other feeble forms of +amusement with which people in search of a holiday disguise their +boredom. And to increase the solitude of their retreat, the +Vernleys' house was a mile out of the village, snugly ensconced +behind the high sand dunes with which early settlers had fought the +encroaching sea, and kept for themselves a lowland intersected with +dykes and devoid of trees. Bobbie grumbled all day long at the +obvious insanity of his people in choosing such a place. A lover of +the flesh pots, he contemplated the house and surrounding country +with supreme disgust. His disapproval was obviously artificial, +however. They had brought their horses with them, with which to +explore the Lincolnshire lanes. A short car journey took them to +Skegness, "which is Mablethorpe, only more so," commented Bobbie. +Kitty found great excitement in riding her mare down the sand dunes, +until the authorities protested against the breaking down of the sky +line and Mablethorpe's one claim to singularity. But the tennis and +the bathing were without fault. Even Bobbie was silent upon these, +and his frequent indulgence in both betrayed almost enthusiasm. Mrs. +Vernley had chosen the place for the air, although Mr. Vernley swore +that it was because no friends would come there to visit them. He +was consoled somewhat by the discovery of a radical parson in a near +village, who knew all the quaint little inns and the merits of beer. + +For the greater part of the day they all lived in bathing costumes +since, as Marsh expressed it, the weather was hot and as perversely +pleasant as the landscape. London was with them, Lindon dwelling in +a wonderful July heaven, for diplomatic John had contrived for an +invitation to be sent to Miss Topham, whose pleasure coincided with +the business of painting Kitty on horseback. Their open delight in +each other supplemented the mirth of the party, though perhaps John +felt lonelier in contrast, for Muriel was visiting the home of a +school friend at Liége until the second week in August. John's sky +had just a little shadow in it, but with Marsh and Vernley at hand, +there were no silences for self-commiseration. + +They breakfasted at seven, with the sea wind blowing through the +room. It was Mr. Vernley's great complaint that there were neither +letters nor newspapers until eleven o'clock. A great strike was +threatened, and he watched it carefully day by day. + +"Have the silly beggars struck yet?" asked Bobbie, one morning as +they all lay, after bathing, on the slopes of the sand dunes facing +the sea and the wide flat beach. As he asked the question he was +industriously trickling sand down John's bare leg. + +"No--the Prime Minister receives a conference to-day. There seems to +be more trouble over the Sarajevo incident." + +"What's that, sir?" asked Vernley. + +"One of the Hapsburgs potted at by a Serbian--those blighters are +always shooting one another in the Balkans," interrupted Marsh. + +"There's a report from Copenhagen that Russia's mobilising," said Mr. +Vernley. + +"Oh, you must never believe reports from Copenhagen, sir," cried +Lindon, looking sideways at John. The next moment he just escaped a +shoe by ducking. + +"The Kaiser says that Austria must have guarantees from Serbia, with +penalties, and that Russia must acquiesce." + +"I wish somebody would have a shot at that idiot," said John. + +"Well you can, when he's had one at us, as he intends," replied +Vernley. + +"Oh, bosh!" cried Marsh, "every half-pay major who wants conscription +and has had a week's holiday in Berlin, propagates that yarn. The +Germans would no more think of fighting us than the Chinese--they +wouldn't have a dog's chance." + +"With twelve million disciplined troops?" queried Mr. Vernley, over +the top of his glasses. + +"Why, sir, we'd never meet 'em on land. How would they get +here--with our navy?" + +Vernley got up and shook the sand off his legs. + +"Come on, Scissors--let's have that tennis four--if we let Lindon and +Marsh go on there'll be war in England; I can see Lindon's gorge +rising at the little Englander!" + +"Little Englander--why of course! We are the wealthiest race on the +earth, have the greatest possessions, and the worst slums!" cried +Marsh. "What good is the wealth of India when there's Sheffield, or +the possession of Egypt when it can't wipe out the slums of +Lancashire--we have the largest national debt, the heaviest taxation! +And there are idiots banging the big drum, raising the German bogey, +because they want to go and grab more countries, when we can't manage +what we have got!" Marsh was flushed and the wind had blown the hair +down into his eyes. + +"But we do manage it--and well," asserted Tod, usually silent, and +just appointed to a commission in the Guards. "We have civilised +India, brought justice and liberty to its people as well as health--" + +"And Christianity," added Mrs. Vernley. + +"Yes, and thrown away hundreds of lives and millions of money on +South Africa--only to realise we had no right there and to give it +back again," retorted Marsh. + +"You must admit, Teddie, we have a genius for government," said John. + +"Not while we've Ireland threatening insurrection every minute," +flared Marsh, his blood up. + +"I think you boys had better play tennis," called Mr. Vernley, from +behind the newspaper. "You'll get hot to some purpose then. But +unless I'm mistaken, this old country will be in the balance soon. +Austria has attacked Serbia, and is bombarding Belgrade. Russia has +sent an ultimatum on behalf of her ally, and the Kaiser is hurrying +back to Berlin." + +"That idiot will only stir up the mess," said Bobbie. "What's it all +about, Dad?" + +"The Austrian Archduke was assassinated at Sarajevo. Austria demands +penalties and will not accept Serbia's offer. It is reported Germany +is strengthening Austria's hand, and Russia stands behind Serbia. +Sir Edward Grey has offered his services as mediator." + +"Oh, he'll settle it!" cried Bobbie. "Clever dog, Grey." + +"It looks to me like a European conflagration unless great tact is +shown," said Mr. Vernley. He turned to his wife, "I think we ought +to wire for Muriel to come home." + +"But why? Belgium is not affected." + +The whole circle looked at Mr. Vernley who took off His glasses and +tapped the newspaper. + +"It may mean war for us." + +"For us!" They all echoed. + +"We've too much sense, sir, to be messed up in these ludicrous Balkan +squabbles. The blighters are always nibbling at one another's ears. +Well, here's one who won't join in. If every man thought and acted +as I do, there wouldn't be any wars!" declared Marsh. + +"Why?" asked John. He had never seen Marsh quite so excited before. + +"Because if there were no feeble fools willing to be made into gun +fodder, there'd be no wars. You can't have wars without soldiers." + +"But supposing Germany declared war on us," began Tod. + +"Oh, bosh!" interrupted Marsh. + +"Germany will not declare war on _us_," said Mr. Vernley quietly, +"but if this unrest spreads, she may declare war on France--and that +would involve our honour; we should have to help France." + +"It seems a terrible mix-up, all these entangling alliances," sighed +Mrs. Vernley, "and it is unthinkable that the world's rulers will let +us slip into war. To-day war would be terrible with all the science +and inventions of this age." + +"It would be insane!" cried Marsh loudly. "We must refuse to be +pushed in by the financiers and land-grabbers. Think of the millions +it means, the homes ruined, the sons and fathers butchered--why it's +incredible!" + +"But if our honour--" began Tod. + +"Honour be damned!" snapped Marsh. Then quickly, "Oh, I'm sorry, I +didn't mean that. But it's wicked to think of war. I refuse to +think of it." + +"We may have to, Marsh," said Mr. Vernley. + +"I won't." + +"If we had to fight, wouldn't you?" asked Kitty. + +Marsh stood up, looking very handsome in his flushed indignation but +John noticed how his lip trembled as he paused before answering, and +looked out to sea. + +"No," he said quietly. + +Mr. Vernley looked at him steadily. + +"I'm afraid, Marsh, you would be--" he began to say. + +"Called a coward, sir--I know. But war's insanity, and only the +corrupt, the insane and the ignorant will allow it. I'll consider it +my duty to refuse to condone it at any cost." + +"Oh--you're--you're impossible," muttered Tod. + +"You're--you're a professional soldier," retorted Marsh, and the +moment he uttered it, turned white in the face. + +"Oh--Tod--please I didn't mean it like that--I didn't really." There +were tears in his eyes as he turned appealingly. Tod put his hand on +his shoulder and smiled at him. + +"It's all right, Teddie--you were always volcanic. I believe you're +the kind of fellow that would win the V.C." + +"I think," said Mrs. Vernley breathing freely again, "that it is very +silly to take things as seriously as this--there won't be a war." + +"Grey'll settle it," said John. + +"We hope so," added Mr. Vernley, folding up his paper. "But I shall +go to town to-morrow to be at the centre of things and I shall wire +to Muriel." + +"But she will be home in a week, father," cried Mrs. Vernley. + +"And she's quite safe in Belgium," declared Bobbie. + +"Perhaps--I hope so, but it's too near the storm centre," replied Mr. +Vernley. "And now, my dear, what about lunch?" + +Walking back to the house, John expressed fears about Muriel to +Bobbie. + +"Oh, she's all right," he replied, confidently. "The guv'nor always +takes a serious attitude to things--it's a parliamentary habit, +Scissors--and Muriel can look after herself." Marsh walked silently +with them. He seemed depressed. The sky was blue, the sun shining, +but John felt the air was heavy. He slipped his arm through Marsh's. + + + +V + +Rumours followed rumours, and one morning as John came down into the +hall before breakfast, Tilly met him. She looked very attractive and +girlish in her white jersey with its blue collar encircling her +pretty neck. John could understand Lindon's infatuation. He had +watched her slim figure in the water, a graceful sprite, so light and +vivacious that she might have been a fairy's child. Her cream skirt +this morning was short, revealing two shapely legs in white +stockings, and he could not help looking intently at the little bare +patch beneath her throat, red with the sun, running down to a channel +of milky whiteness, dimpled by the suggested proximity of her +breasts. She noticed his admiring observation, and placed her hand, +light as a bird on his arm. + +"Scissors, what do you think--Tod's going to town with Mr. Vernley +this morning! I tell him he'll spoil the men's four we arranged to +play the doctor's friends." + +"To town, whatever for?" + +"I don't know, you persuade him to stay." + +"Righto--where is he?" + +Tilly nodded towards the dining room. John walked in, and as he did +so, he realised something. + +"Morning, Tod!" he called brightly. "I hear you're going to town." + +"Yes, Scissors--I've got to see a few friends." + +"Oh--you'll be coming back before I go?" + +"Oh, yes--" + +At that moment Bobbie burst in. + +"I say, Tod, what's this nonsense about going to town! You simply +can't, you'll bust up the--" + +He caught a glance from John that checked him. + +"I must see some friends," said Tod. "I'll be back in a few days." + +"Oh, very well," assented Bobbie, lamely. John had gone out. He +followed quickly, overtaking him in the hall. + +"What on earth did you look like that for, Scissors?" he asked. John +drew him aside from where Mrs. Vernley stood watering a flower pot. + +"I thought you did not realise." + +"Realise what?" asked Vernley. + +"Why Tod's going to town--it isn't to see friends." Then seeing the +mystified expression on his friend's face, "I'll bet he visits the +War Office to find out whether his regiment's likely to get orders." + +"Good God!" exclaimed Vernley, "but--surely we're not going to war!" + +"I don't know." + +"We must keep this from the mater," whispered Vernley. Then, to +John, "You're a wise old bird, Scissors--I'd never have guessed." + +Immediately after breakfast Mr. Vernley and Tod left for London. +Their going brought one little hope to John. Muriel would be here +now in a few days. This was the last week in July--Tuesday. He had +to return in a week, the Tuesday following Bank Holiday, on August +the fourth. Muriel would be here by the 1st at the latest. They +would have a few days together before he could come back again, early +in September. On the fifth he had to leave for Paris, to relieve +Phipps, who was there on a special mission. + +Those jolly days went quickly. They bathed, boated, played tennis +and lolled on the dunes. Marsh made frequent excursions into +Mablethorpe, where he had contracted a mania for shooting at bottles +in a booth, returning with a cocoanut and a German watch as prizes. +He was elated with his great success as a deadly shot. + +"I'm surprised you should like shooting," laughed Mrs. Vernley when +he presented her with a cocoanut, and pinned the watch on the cook's +blouse. + +"But at bottles, not human beings, Mrs. Vernley!" + +"Same thing as soldiers," cried John. + +"How?" + +"According to you--green and empty." + +There was a laugh all round and Marsh shied the cocoanut at John, who +split his white ducks in performing a somersault. That afternoon he +infected Lindon and Tilly with his craze and dragged them off to +Mablethorpe. + +John dozed on the lawn, Bobbie was engrossed in a novel, Mrs. Vernley +was taking her siesta. Only Kitty was alert. She had been writing +to Alice who was singing on the morrow at Manchester. Suddenly she +put down her pen. + +"Bobbie, I say, just look at Teddie tearing along--has he gone mad?" + +She pointed and they looked in the direction of the Mablethorpe road +that ran between a deep dyke and the sandhills. He was running +breathlessly, his shirt wide open at the neck. He was a lonely +figure on the road, but, catching sight of them on the lawn, waved a +paper in the air. John woke up. + +"He's won another prize!" he suggested. + +"But where's Lindon and Tilly?" asked Bobbie. + +Then John started up and went across the lawn, and Marsh, now within +hailing distance, shouted-- + +"Special out--Germany's at war with France--threatening Luxembourg!" + +A minute later, panting, he reached the gate, where they ran to meet +him. + +"Hoo! I'm blown--there!" He thrust the paper into eager hands. +"Tilly and Lindon are coming--I've run all the way. It looks like +business, doesn't it?" + +They read down the column. It was brief, with messages from many +sources, none authoritative, but the fact was clear--Germany and +France were at war. + +"Germany has delivered a request to Luxembourg asking for the free +passage for her troops to the French frontier; her neutrality will be +respected in the event of acquiescence," read John aloud. + +"Neutrality respected--after walking across them!" snorted Bobbie. + +Suddenly John gripped the paper. + +"Brussels. From our special correspondent. It is rumoured that a +demand for the free passage of German troops, as in the case of +Luxembourg, has been made to the Belgian Government. No official +statement was made at noon, but the Belgian army is being mobilised +as a precautionary measure." + +And Muriel was in Belgium! + +At tea they had a thousand hopes, fears, views. All the evening +Marsh walked about muttering, "It's incredible--the twentieth +century, and civilisation to come to this! But it'll all be over +quickly, there's that in it." + +"Quickly, why?" asked Bobbie. + +"The Germans will be in Paris in a fortnight!" + +"They won't!" said John grimly. + +"Why not?" asked Kitty. + +"We shall stop them." + +"We?" echoed Tilly. + +"Yes--France is our ally, we must stand by her." + +"There's no definite treaty compelling us," said Mrs. Vernley. + +"It's not a matter of compulsion--it's a matter of honour," asserted +Lindon. + +"Honour!" cried Marsh. "Honour--and spread the massacre!" + +"The French are our allies. Germany knows that, and has thrown down +the gage. We are challenged," said John grimly. + +"Then--it--it means war for us?" asked Mrs. Vernley. + +"Yes." + +"Oh dear--oh dear--oh dear!" she murmured, clasping and unclasping +her hands. Marsh sat silent with the rest. The net was closing. +Not one of them mentioned Muriel's name, chiefly because she was in +all their minds. + +That evening a wire came from Mr. Vernley. The Belgian Legation +refused to issue passports. He had wired Muriel to return at once. +He was coming down in the morning. Charlton, of the Foreign Office, +said there was every hope that they would keep out of the war. + +Mr. Vernley arrived in the morning, and with him came the news that +Belgium had refused Germany the right of access across her territory +and Germany had declared war and was hacking her way through the +country. + +"That means we are all in," said Lindon. + +"We shall know soon. England has sent an ultimatum declaring she +will defend Belgian neutrality according to the treaty." + +Those were hours of suspense to the Vernley household, all their +thoughts turned to Muriel. Where was she? Mr. Vernley was sure she +was on her way to England; she had had ample time to reach Ostend. + +"Just think, all of these people in a few days will be living in +apprehension--and every one of us shouldering a gun!" said John, +looking at the crowd on the shore. A group of red-faced youths +sauntered by, hatless, in vivid blazers. + +"There goes gun-fodder," muttered Marsh. The strain was telling on +him; he had lost his buoyancy. + +"You pessimist--youth's going to have the time of its life--action, a +world in the making! Why Marsh, it's our age, this. It means the +old men take a back seat!" cried Lindon, laughing at Tilly, who hung +on his arm. + +"And what of us?" she asked, a little jealous. + +"Nurses, all of you." + +She shivered slightly. + +"I should be ill at the sight of blood." + +It was evening when they sat on the sandhills and saw the wide-winged +sunset spread across the fen-land. Suddenly a cry from Bobbie made +them turn. There, on the grey horizon, where sea dissolved into +approaching night, they saw a twinkle of lights, flashing through the +greyness. The slim forms of ships were just discernible as they +slipped northwards into the gathering darkness. + +"Warships!" cried Lindon. "We're ready and watching." + +It began to rain. Bobbie and John were the last to enter the house. +They halted for a moment in a cutting of the sandhills and looked +over the dark expanse of sea. That slow procession northwards of +ships had given a sudden reality to the rumours. + +John took Vernley's arm as they walked on in silence. + +"I wonder where we'll all be next year at this time," said Vernley. +"I suppose this is the end of things--well--we've had a good +time--haven't we, Scissors?" + +John could not speak. The great drama rendered him speechless. Out +there, across the North Sea, lay Germany. In millions of homes, +their windows bright in the dusk, mothers and wives were saying +farewell to their loved ones; in Austria too, in Russia, thousands of +leagues across the Balkans, from the Bretagne coast to the sunny +Riviera, the hand of Mars knocked on the door of castle and cottage. +Already the sky was stabbed with flame, the silence of the harvest +fields broken with the battery of guns. + +John looked across the peaceful fenland. Here and there a light +shone in a farmstead; the silence was broken only by the low sighing +of the sea, fitfully borne inland. England, his country, sinking to +sleep, guarded by her inviolate seas. A great love of this land rose +in his heart. God keep her secure! + +"Dulce et decorum pro patria mori," he half murmured to himself, but +Vernley heard him. + +"Yes, and there's one thing, Scissors--we're all in it together, +that'll be the good part of it." + +They walked on, arm in arm. + +So passed Tuesday, August the fourth; the suspense of the ultimatum, +and then the fifth, with "WAR" flaring in great letters on the +bookstall posters. The station was crowded with the general exodus. +All the Vernley household were going up to town. The platform was a +scene of good-byes. Hatless lads were bidding one another cheerful +farewells, the girls, jerseyed and laughing, hung on their arms. +There was an air of suppressed excitement; they might have been going +to a picnic, but deeper observation revealed a nervous tension. At +Boston, Marsh left them to go on to his people. He had been very +silent for the last two days. He said good-bye gravely. Only to +John did he unburden himself in the last minute. + +"This is the end of us all, Scissors. This war will go on for years. +We shall be worked up into a fierce hate. The Press will keep it +going, it'll get bloodier and bloodier--and no one will win in the +end. There'll be nothing but widows and cripples, famine and debt. +Good-bye, Scissors, write to me at home." + +They shook hands; neither dared say more. The next minute, the train +moved out, leaving Marsh standing amid his luggage, raising his hat +to them, a graceful figure of youth, outwardly calm. + +Intensity increased when they reached London. They all parted +hurriedly. Bobbie was going to enlist at once, Tod had received +orders. Lindon hoped to get out as a despatch rider. John, what was +he going to do? He did not know, he was bewildered. In his head +there was only one idea, to get to Belgium at all costs, to find +Muriel, from whom no word had been received. + +At his rooms he found a wire from Merritt, bidding him call. Walsh +saw him at once. His wish was miraculously fulfilled. He was to +leave immediately for Belgium as special correspondent of the _Daily +Post_. + + + + +BOOK V + +THE NEW WORLD + + + +CHAPTER I + + +I + +The crowded steamer from Folkestone reached Ostend in the last glow +of the sunset as it fell on the straggling Digue, domes, hotels, +casinos, verandahed houses, the pleasure haunt standing inviolate on +the edge of the plains, that beyond, were now drenched with blood. A +fortnight had elapsed, full of irritating delays. There were +interviews at the War Office, where every obstacle had been raised, +frantic journeys to the Foreign Office, the Belgian Legation, the +offices of the Newspaper Proprietors Association. Nobody wanted war +correspondents out there, except the papers. Then more delay while +John bought a car, a rare thing, for every one had been commandeered +by the War Office; and with all this work he had made desperate +attempts to get into touch with the _Daily Post_ resident +correspondent at Brussels, beseeching him to ask for Muriel at the +Convent of the Sacred Heart. But all was chaotic at the other end of +the wire and day after day he had to return to poor Mrs. Vernley with +no news. Then, the last day, at the last minute, news came from +Muriel herself. She had joined the Belgian Red Cross; the convent +had been turned into a hospital. + +The steamer was warped in at Ostend amid amazing scenes. The harbour +was crowded with refugees, pitiable objects, sitting on their small +bundles hastily gathered before flight. The moment his car was +landed, John pressed on towards Bruges. Again and again he almost +told his chauffeur to turn round and pick up the wretched people +straggling along the road towards Ostend and England. Tired women +trudged the long roads, carrying infants in their arms, while small +children clutched at their skirts. There was no crying, no +complaining, only dull, voiceless despair on every face. Old men and +women went by, pushing their worldly wealth, bedding for the most +part, on barrows. Yes, they had seen the war, out there. The German +bombardment was terrible. They were destroying everything. The +gallant army resisted every inch, but what could they do, little +Belgium, against these hordes? John ran into Bruges soon after dusk. + +At daylight, he was on the crowded road again, this time towards +Ghent, where the other correspondents had established their +headquarters. There had been one topic at Bruges. The wonderful +English army was over and fighting! It had all been so swift and +silent. The Germans were furious and amazed. They had orders to +wipe out the contemptible little army. Nearing Ghent there were +signs of war. Ambulance vans swept by, in them inert swathed +figures, mud-stained and pallid. The environs of Ghent were choked +with cars, lorries, refugees, detachments of men on the march. + +John found his colleagues at the long low Hotel de la Poste in the +Place d'Armes. There was Tompkins of the _Standard_, tall, lean, and +depressed with the hopelessness of it all; and V. E. A. Stevenson, +the veteran, who had seen ten wars, and hated them all. He was a +cynic, a pacifist and a revolutionary. He derived grim satisfaction +when ardent Belgians mistook him, with his red, weather-beaten face, +trim beard and white hair, and breast blazing with war ribbons, for +an English general. He suffered them to embrace him ecstatically, +and sighed for his home at Hampstead,--"built out of the blood of the +Boers," he explained grimly. Trevor of the _Times_ walked about +morose and self-important; the heavy brow of Willing of the _Express_ +was seen towering above every group of Belgian generals. He had a +miraculous knowledge of the disposition of the armies, and they +consulted him as a general staff. Also, genial, and an optimist to +the core, Biddings of _Reuter_ walked about the lounge in carpet +slippers. He refused to go out. What was the good of running about +the highways and the byways? Every general and person who was +somebody came to the hotel. He picked their brains--"very poor +rubbish heaps"--gathered up the gossip and at tea-time had such a +store that the weary, muddy colleagues were glad to barter news. He +was more eloquent, despite an impediment, with the poker in his +hands, when, with the cinders, he would show why the Germans could +not possibly get to Paris. + +On the third day after John's arrival, Phipps turned up. He had been +in the thick of it, at Termond and Alost. He had had no food, was +nervy and on the verge of a breakdown. His eagle features were +sharper than ever, and his brain wonderfully alert. His despatches +had created something of a sensation in England, not only for their +news, but also for the humanity, the tenderness running through his +vivid epics of suffering and incredible heroism. He was in Paris +when the war broke out, moved up with the French armies, had been +with the British Army in its great stand at Mons, had dragged back +through that dogged retreat, "a bloody terrible business, +Dean--walking on torn flesh all the way,"--and had passed on into +Belgium. + +"God--how I hate it--it's insensate, blowing all these splendid lads +to atoms, for what?" he cried. + +"For England," said Trevor, with disapproving dignity. + +"England! Rubbish!" snapped Phipps. "They're giving the same reason +in Germany, Russia, Austria, Serbia--the same fierce old women are +brow-beating every timid lad, and the same stupid, red-faced Generals +are sitting at mess while their puppets are pulverised with something +they can't see, which doesn't give them a dog's chance before +bespattering the turf with their brains! If this is civilisation, +why--" he broke off as though realising the futility of everything. +"I suppose we shall have to go on writing as if it were a football +match, and be censored every time we hint at such a thing as spilt +blood or a nasty mess." + +He walked out, even more pallid, and went up to his bedroom where he +hammered out a long despatch on his "Corona." Eight other +correspondents were doing the same thing in other bedrooms. For an +hour there was a rapid clatter of typewriter keys. At five o'clock +the despatch rider left for the Signal Station, whence their +despatches crossed the wires overnight, in time for the Englishman's +breakfast table. Curiously, those at home knew more than these +correspondents. They explored a corner, oblivious of the fate of the +world beyond. In England every morning the public watched the ugly +black snake marked on the map, as it slowly curled its way towards +Paris. In a top left hand corner another black line closed in upon +Antwerp and crept along the coast towards Ostend. + +"We shall have to move out soon," said Riddings. "The streets are +choked to-day with ambulances--that's a sure sign." Every night +sleep was broken by the incessant roar of guns, and the night sky +flickered and quivered. Those were the days when the name of Liége +was on every tongue. Could General Leman hold out? Then came news +of a terrible massacre at Malines. The name sang in John's heart +like a bell. Muriel--was she there? Had she remained and met the +German invasion, or where was she? He wired to the Vernleys' +beseeching news. That same day a shell fell into the town. The +British had marched through St. Nicolas; the fate of Antwerp hung in +the balance, the black snake was closing in on Ghent and curling +upwards towards the coast. + +"If we don't move soon, we're luggage for Germany," said Biddings. +"The generals have all gone and they know when it gets chilly as well +as the swallows." + +Walking down the Grande Place, John suddenly clutched Phipps' arm. +The next moment he had seized a car standing outside a shop and was +driving madly down a side street. Phipps watched him go in silent +amazement, but John, half-crazed with fear that the car ahead would +give him the slip, drove furiously, without heeding the traffic +through which he miraculously raced. For in the car ahead, he had +caught a glimpse of a face that had made his heart jump. Muriel was +in it, a Muriel he knew despite her nurse's hood and cape! He was +gaining on it now; it paused in front of a building. He alighted on +the pavement simultaneously with the slim nurse. + +"Muriel!" + +She turned, then rushed into his arms. + +"Oh, John!" + +Two ragged children lifted their caps and yelled "Vive les Anglais! +Vive l'Angleterre!" but the lovers stood there alone in the world. + +"Why are you here?" he asked. + +She laughed, her fingers playing with the button of his tunic. + +"And you?" + +"Our headquarters are here--Hotel de la Poste--until to-night," he +replied. + +Her face shadowed. + +"I have just been fetched. Tod--he is here--dying." + +"Tod!" + +"Yes--he came out with the Antwerp expedition--I am just going in to +him--come!" + +She clasped his hand and they entered the gloomy porch together. The +place had been a school--desks and chairs were piled up in the lobby. +A Belgian soldier saluted and conducted them to the matron, a pale +little Belgian woman. Lieutenant Vernley? Yes, he was here, but he +could not be seen, M'sieur was ill, very ill, "a la morte," she +added, raising her hands helplessly. John explained. + +"Ah!--his sister?--pardon! We expected her. Yes, come! You shall +go in." + +They followed down a long ward, with dozens of beds, and groaning +shapes beneath blankets, and entered a small room, very dull. In the +corner was a bed and on it the figure of a boy. His shirt was open +at the neck. His unshaven chin was growing a sandy beard, which +contrasted with the green-grey pallor of his face; the hands which +lay over the brown blanket, were red and soiled. Muriel slipped to +her knees at his side. + +"Tod dear!" she whispered, taking his hand in hers. But he lay +without response, his leaden head deep in the pillow. John stood in +the doorway. + +"In the stomach, m'sieur--a shell splinter," explained the matron. +"He has been delirious, 'Muriel,' that was all he cried, 'Muriel.' +We found a letter from Mademoiselle in his pocket, and sent for her +yesterday." + +"He doesn't know me," said Muriel, turning pathetically, but a +pressure on her hand told her she was wrong. + +"Oh Tod, darling, I've come. I'm going to nurse you." + +A glimmer of a smile faded across the lad's face. + +John left her then, he would be back in an hour. + + +When he returned, Muriel, very quiet, was sitting in the matron's +room. He knew in a moment it was all over. Very gently he took her +into his arms, and let her cry, with her head on his shoulder. + +They buried Tod the next morning. Phipps was there, and an English +Army Chaplain, and two Belgian generals, carrying wreaths from the +town authorities. Thus another Englishman was committed to the soil +for whose defence he had gladly given his young life. + +After the funeral, they had to hurry away. Shells were falling into +the town. Melle had been heavily bombarded and the Town Hall was a +heap of ruins. Half the inhabitants of Ghent seemed to be streaming +along the road to Bruges. The inevitable moment of parting came for +John and Muriel. She was rejoining her unit, now at Bruges. + +When would they meet again? For a long moment she clung to him in +the desperation of love. + +"We will get leave together and be married, Muriel," he urged. + +"Yes, John but not now--we must go on, these poor things need us. I +am almost happy here. I could not sleep in England, knowing what +happens day and night!" + +"Muriel--promise you will take care, I shall be anxious for you." + +"And you--you are running all the risks. Oh, John, we must come +through! Life is going to be so wonderful even yet." + +He kissed her hungrily, wrapped the rugs round her in the car, and +saluted as it carried her away. He waited until the traffic blotted +her from view. Then he joined Stevenson who was waiting with his car +at the hotel. + +It was burdened with their luggage, the precious typewriters +precariously balanced on the top. They were going south into the +British lines and the welter of blood. Antwerp had fallen; nothing +could now stop the Germans reaching the coast. And England perhaps. +But that was an incredible thought to John. England could not know +ruin like this. He looked up at the moon hanging serenely over the +flat Belgian countryside. The same moon peered down on English homes +and in silent glades where the birds slept. + + + +II + +So ran the drama, act by act, in those epic days. While England +waited breathlessly, the terrible tides of war, now sweeping onwards, +now refluent, devastated the countryside of Europe. The little fire, +lighted in Sarajevo, spread outwards until it lapped countries and +capitals and nations in its lurid glow; until the windy plain of +Troy, the desert slopes of the Holy Land, the forests of the +Caucasian mountains, and the shores of the Tigris and Danube shook +with the tramp of men. Month after month, the war spread its leprous +hand across the face of splendid courageous manhood. Sometimes, in +the agony of his soul, when coming from dressing stations where men +held in their entrails, by pools coloured like sunset with the blood +and limbs of men and horses, John cried out against the monstrous +infliction of pain. Was it not better that the world should crash +into another planet, and find the peace of obliteration? And to +heighten the useless agony of this drama, came the reports of +official squabbles, the blunders of statesmen, the rhetorical +recriminations of politicians, hurled from nation to nation with +cheap victories of words, while men struggled with mud under a +murderous hail of iron. + +For fifteen months John rushed about the fringe of war in his great +car. They were days of terrible strain, but his efforts seemed as +nothing beside the herculean labour of those wonderful boys who +tramped along the tree splintered roads of Flanders, singing in +defeat as in victory, dropping swiftly by the roadside in a +convulsive cough as death fell upon them from the air. He was up +every morning at five, astir before daylight in the cold wintry air, +with a long motor journey to the lines, there to watch the coloured +panorama of a bombardment, the unearthly silence of "zero" when the +barrage lifted, to wait in those minutes when youth leapt forward +upon death; and then to visit the clearing stations where men who had +been splendid to look upon, so full of the vigour of youth, lay torn +in ribbons, demented, delirious. Month after month he went through +the hideous routine when suddenly, one night, after writing his +despatch, he fell forwards upon his typewriter. They found him in a +dead faint. + +"I've seen this coming," said Biddings. "He's worn himself away--and +he'll have company soon," he said, turning to Phipps, "if you don't +write and smoke less." + +A week later John was at the Vernleys, lying about in their rooms, +and talking as though all those months had been a nightmare. It was +not the same house; Kitty was nursing in London, Alice was on a farm. +Bobbie was back home with a wound, hoping to be released daily from a +luxurious private hospital in Sussex, "where the chambermaid's a +countess and the matron a snob." Muriel--the saga of Muriel, they +all called it. She had contributed to history. The story of her +stand at Lens had made all England ring with her fame. She had been +mentioned in despatches for her heroism under fire. John had not +seen her since that memorable day in Ghent, but letters came and +went. She wrote vividly of her experiences, and he began to be a +little in awe of her obvious efficiency. News of one, he could not +gain. There was no mention of Marsh among any of his friends. +Bobbie had been curtly silent when asked. "Never heard of him--don't +expect he's wounded." Was that a sneer? thought John. Even Mr. +Fletcher, forwarding parcels from the boys of his House asked, "We +can't trace Marsh--do you know his regiment? He does not reply to +letters." + +With quiet, and Mrs. Vernley's assiduous attention, John quickly +recovered. She had aged much since the death of her eldest boy, and +sorrow had rendered her more gentle and self-effacing than ever. +These were lonely days for her, with Mr. Vernley away as a Director +in one of the Ministries, her daughters all on war work. They had +long talks at tea time, when John read the pages he had gathered +together of a book of despatches. He was a famous man now, and he +rather enjoyed the experience. There was nothing elating in being +famous, just because every one was glad to shake you by the hand or +because your name was a password whenever and wherever it was +uttered; it was indeed wearisome to be pestered with petitions for +your support of all kinds of fantastic charities, to be expected to +speak here, there and everywhere, or to be an afternoon's attraction +at an ambitious lady's drawing-room party. What he enjoyed was the +freemasonry in which he could now move among the men and women of the +earth who did things, and were great, simply because their natures +were rich in character and prodigal with varying gifts. + +After his sojourn at "The Croft," he spent a fortnight in town +looking up old friends. It was a London strangely, terribly changed. +It was, in one phase, a London more interesting. Down its pavements +in great variety of uniforms, passed the young men of all the earth; +youth from the plains, the jungle, the prairie, the veldt, the +backwoods and the ranch, youth in splendid careless vigour, snatching +hectically at joy, not turning to see the shadowy spectre over their +shoulders. It was strange to stand in Piccadilly Circus, dimly lit, +and watch the theatres pour out their festive crowds, to sit in the +busy restaurants, to see mankind, strained, feverish, but debonair, +trying to laugh in the face of ruin and death. It was a London of +extremes; the wounded silently borne from Charing Cross, the +beautiful living swept out in the deadly maelstrom at Victoria +Station; the painted women gaily surrendering to the rabid hunger of +youth in arms, full-blooded and reckless; the air of intense +expectation of fresh development, the swift rise and fall of national +heroes, the craving for a strong man to lead the nation to victory; +the silent evidence of the wreckage in those endless hospitals, the +fierce old women full of hate, and the beardless boys drilled and +transported like sheep under the charge of hard-voiced blasphemous +sergeants,--all these things revealed a nation at war, a nation +unnatural in its hopes, fears, suspicions, enthusiasms, yet +heroically treading the inevitable path through chaos to some kind of +ending, either of victory or defeat. + +It was while watching the crowd surging into the Piccadilly Tube +entrance, that John's heart suddenly leapt up in surprise. +Surely--yes, it was the undisguisable Marsh--and yet! John stared a +moment. A tall, sun-browned youth in kilts, with the black and red +hose of the Black Watch, was laughing down into the face of a girl +whose hand rested persuasively on his arm. She was pursuing her +profession, the oldest under the sun, with all the usual assets, the +flaunting white stole over the shoulders, the large beaded vanity +bag, one hand gloved, the other thin, manicured and nervous, +glittering with rings, too large to be genuine. There was something +pathetically obvious in the loud declaration of her clothes, the +challenge of her carriage, the provoking tilt of her hat over large +observant eyes. She had found her object of a night's passion and +pay--the human agent of bread and rent. Here was another youth, +beautiful in his strength, snatching at a brief expression of manhood +as a pleasurable anodyne for an approaching ordeal. + +She turned and the young officer half hesitated. John moved forward. + +"Marsh!" he said quietly. A malevolent look glittered beneath the +dark hat, the tall youth peered at the intruder half-resentfully; +even then he seemed confused. With a shock, more of pain than +disgust, John saw that Marsh was not quite sober. + +"What are you--" began John, when Marsh's senses cleared. + +"Scissors, by God, this is great!" Then, awkwardly, he grew +conscious again of his company, insistently standing by him-- + +"This lady is--is--" + +"That's all right, Marsh--where are you going?" asked John. + +"He's coming home with me," said the girl sullenly. + +John put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a note. + +"This is an old friend I've not seen for a long time--I want to talk +to him," he said quietly, putting the note in her hand. Defiantly +she thrust it back, and her mouth, hard and unpleasant, curled +malevolently; she was baulked of her prey. + +"Keep yer bl---- money, I'm not depending on missionaries," she +snarled. + +John looked at her calmly. + +"I'm sorry, I did not mean to offend you. Then you will join me at +supper with my friend?" + +There was something so kind and disarming in his voice, that she +suddenly melted. Her eyes assumed a tenderness surprising and almost +pathetic. + +"I'll go--he's your pal I see, and you poor boys may not meet again." +.She turned away, but John put a detaining hand on her arm. + +"I really meant my invitation," he said quietly. + +Then (God! the horror of it!), she momentarily misinterpreted his +insistence, and involuntarily her professional air returned, only to +be dispelled again by the kind cleanliness of the young man's eyes. + +"No--kid, thanks, I guess I'll pick up a boy." + +John put his hand in hers. + +"No--in memory of our meeting, have a--holiday," he added lamely. +This time she let the note rest in her hand. He thought she was +going to cry, but suddenly she turned and was lost in the passing +crowd. Marsh stood there, silent, bemused. John said not a word, +but called a taxi, and pushed his friend into it. In the darkness +Marsh sat huddled up. They were speeding down Piccadilly and turning +by Hyde Park Gate when he seemed conscious that he was being carried +away. + +"Where are you taking me, Scissors," he asked in a dull voice. +(Could this be Marsh, the debonair, the irrepressible?) + +"Home," John replied laconically. + +"I'm leaving Victoria at four a.m.--for France." + +John started. + +"But you--you were--" he began. + +"Going to spend the night with a gay woman, like the filthy cad I am. +Oh, I know what you're thinking! Well, I was--I'd have been one of +those deserters you see under escort." + +"You're drunk, Teddie," said John. + +"That's no excuse--in a court martial." + +There was silence again. It was now half-past eleven. He would get +him home and make him rest for the few intervening hours. + +Mrs. Perdie was up when they arrived. Fortunately Marsh pulled +himself together, and was his graceful self, but when he gained +John's room, he collapsed on the bed. John went below to ask for +coffee, a little apologetically. But Mrs. Perdie was in a delightful +fluster. + +"The bonnie laddie--oh, I want to cry when I see a kiltie. His +mother must be proud of him. An' the Black Watch! Many's the time +in Edinburgh I've seen--" + +John left her in ecstasies. He wanted to pull the bonnie laddie +round, for the credit of his dear mother and himself. But Marsh had +recovered and was sitting upright in a chair. He had been brushing +his hair and straightening the thin khaki tie. + +"I suppose you're thinking--" started Marsh, bitterly. + +"What a stroke of luck it was--Jove, Teddie, it does me good to see +you! But where have you been?" cried John. And the other, seeing he +had no intention of alluding to the circumstances of their meeting, +took the hint. + +"This is the end of two years' resistance to the folly of mankind," +said Marsh in a laugh that had no mirth, as he stroked the sporran +over his knees. "It's been a long disagreeable story! Let's see, we +parted at Boston in August 1914--Lord, it seems ages ago. I went +home, and then the battle began. I didn't believe in war--I don't +believe in the war," he added with emphasis, "and I've gone through +hell for my belief. I'm not going to give you a recital of it all. +The badgering of one's relatives, the sneers, the fierce old ladies +who asked if I didn't think I ought to go. And the mater's had it +too. They made it so unpleasant for her that she never goes out now. +Well, I've stuck it out for two years, and hell every minute of it. +Scissors, I'm just nowhere at all. I went to some of the meetings +held by the conscientious objectors, but they made me ill. Most of +'em are long-haired fanatics, living on vegetables and cram full of +isms. They've got courage, there's no denying that; it takes more +courage to stay out of this war in face of public opinion and +calumny, than to go into it--but they seem to enjoy their persecution +and welcome it. I can't--it's misery not to be along with all the +boys, but I've stuck to my belief until--until--oh, Scissors!" + +He bent his head forward, burying his face in his hands, and cried +like a child. John moved, and sat beside him on the arm of the +lounge chair, placing an arm across his shoulders. + +"Teddie, old man--I know it must have been awful--you needn't tell +me." + +Marsh lifted his head again, and blew his nose very hard. + +"Until, Scissors--" he continued determinedly, "one day, a year ago, +I was at Paddington Station, and saw Bobbie coming down the platform. +He was in khaki, looking very fit. I hadn't seen him since our +holiday. You can guess what a joy it was. I just rushed up to +him--and--" + +Marsh's knuckles whitened as he gripped his handkerchief. + +"Scissors, he cut me dead--he didn't even acknowledge that he heard +me--but he _saw_ me--he looked right through me, and went on, leaving +me like Lot's wife. I'd had a hellish time--that just finished me. +A fellow can't go on fighting the world when his best friends quit +him. I just went home and buried myself. I didn't write to you--or +to any one; I wasn't going to risk a second incident like that. I +kept in,--but--I've been in the war every minute. I've gone up and +down those casualty lists, Scissors. They're all going; there's +hardly any of the old set left. Fletcher's House has been wiped +out--a whole bunch at Neuve Chapelle, and I'm going now. I don't +believe in the damn war. It's mad, it can't bring anything but +indemnities, starvation, hatred. Every day I am more convinced of +the insanity--the beastly, selfish filthiness of it, with all these +horrible old politicians making speeches out of it, the business man +'doing his bit,' as he calls his plundering, the fierce old women +lapping up German blood like vampires. I've deserted, Scissors, I've +funked the battle against it--I can't carry on this lone fight any +longer. I enlisted a few months ago--been training at Salisbury and +here I am, a tailored product of Scott Adie, Highland outfitters, and +one of our 'darling brave lads' ready to die for his country." + +He laughed bitterly at the wry humour of his position. + +"I'm going to disembowel some mother's son I've never seen. They +have been working us up to blood fury on stuffed sacks. I've learned +how to draw out my bayonet with a twist, and when I've blotted out +the light of life in half-a-dozen mother's hearts, a more expert +pig-sticker than I am will blot out my mother's happiness. And it'll +go on and on for years, till there's hardly a sane, able-bodied +fellow left, and then one side will crack, and the political and +financial ghouls will gather over Europe's corpse and exact terms and +wave flags of victory." + +Marsh stood up and paced the room. + +"Where's the sense of it?" he cried, stretching out his hands. "What +has victory to do with justice--the strongest wins!--but it doesn't +follow the strongest is right!" + +His eyes softened. + +"And, Scissors, those kids in my platoon--there's not one of them +eighteen yet; they're just babies and I mother 'em night and day. +You know how puppies are, with clumsy paws and trusting eyes?---well, +they're just like that, Scissors--and when they're--they're sent into +the line--" + +Here his words choked him. Mrs. Perdie entered with the coffee, and +with further exclamations of delight offered all kinds of service. +With many thanks and refusals, John got her out of the room again, +but not before she had asked to give the young gentleman a kiss, "as +if I was your ain mother, bless her--and God keep you safe," she +said, retreating to the door with tearful eyes. Marsh seemed better +for having unburdened himself. John wanted him to have a nap, but he +would not. + +"Let's talk, Scissors, till it's time. We've such a lot to say and +you never know, we may--" + +"Oh, rubbish, Teddie." + +So they talked, and the old days with their golden careless hours all +came back again. Remorselessly the clock crept on. At three, Marsh +said he would have to go. He had his kit to get at the luggage +office. John went with him. They walked along the silent unlit +streets. At Victoria there were signs of life. Figures in khaki +loomed out of the darkness; for a moment they halted, the sound of +marching feet came down the Buckingham Palace Road. Ghostly they +sounded in the night hush; a little group under the flare of the +coffee stall watched them pass a thousand strong, burdened with kit, +obscurely leaving the homeland many would never see again. Marsh and +John watched them pass, grim faces, pallid in the dim light, a few +whistling out of bravado, but apathetically silent, most of them. +They followed the detachment into the lighted station, passed the +barrier at the departure bay. Marsh found a carriage full of other +officers, some half-sleepy after long night journeys, two saying +farewells to their lovers, one very drunk, alternately blasphemous +and maudlin, kept in control by a friend. The doors slammed, a +shrill whistle cut off the useless scrappy conversation. + +Their hands met in a firm farewell clasp. They could not trust +themselves to speak. The train moved. Marsh with a final forced +smile looked at Scissors, equally mechanical in response. A yard now +apart--two yards--the train diminished, the carriage faded--then two +red lights receded in the girdered darkness; after that a mist and +the heart's desolation. + + + +III + +The next morning, the _Daily Post_ rang up, asking him to call at +once, and the same voice told him that news had just come of the +death of Ronald Stream. It was difficult for John to realise that +the death of one so exuberantly young was possible. He had a vision +of a night in a room at Cambridge when he had talked there, so +radiant and intensely interested in anything, and so much the young +god in his beauty and zest, that John had felt shy of approaching +him. And now he was dead, in the far away Dardanelles. Fame too had +touched him by his legacy of a few immortal sonnets, in which beat +the heart of young England. Death seemed impossible to that +pard-like spirit, swift and beautiful. For a space, John thought of +his friend Freddie Pond. He had encountered him only two nights ago +as he leaned against the box office in the vestibule of the Court +Theatre, during an interval. John thought he had aged and looked sad +and tired, perhaps the act of watching the swift passing of so many +of the brilliant spirits he had herded, was wearing him. In some +respects, waiting at home was worse than the struggle at the front. + +He saw Merritt at the _Daily Post_, busy and tireless as ever. + +"Don't know what the Chief wants--are you better? You're looking +fit. Just heard young Bewley's won the Distinguished Service Cross +for bombing Bruges docks--a bright kid always." + +Walsh rang for John and he went in. + +"You're fit, I see," said Walsh. "Would you care to tackle a naval +job?" + +"Anything," said John, "rather than be out of it." + +"I'm sending you to the Dover Patrol. I know little more, how you'll +live, on board or ashore. I'll give you a note to Blackrigg at the +Admiralty, he'll tell you. Good luck to you, Dean." + +He was outside again. This time the sea! + + +John called, in the afternoon, on Blackrigg and got his orders, then +he made his way to Gieve's in Bond Street for a ready-made uniform; +he was leaving for Dover the next day. Outside the Admiralty Arch he +heard his name and turned. + +A girlish figure in grey was calling him. + +"Tilly!" he exclaimed in glad surprise, "wherever have you sprung +from?" + +"I think I must ask that!" she laughed softly. + +She was looking very beautiful and he wished he was not in such a +hurry; he had much to ask her and she came out of a happy past. + +"Are you in the same studio?" he asked, in a string of questions. +She was thinking how big and strong he had grown, the boy had +disappeared in this rather stern looking young man. But he had seen +things and was a name in the world. + +"Oh--no--I'm at our flat," she replied. Then, seeing the enquiry in +his face--"Oh, of course, you don't know--we were married a month +ago--I'm Mrs. Lindon now." + +She saw his face brighten with sudden pleasure, and as he expressed +his wishes, she could not restrain the tears that gathered in her +eyes. + +"You are--are not unhappy?" he asked, suddenly. "Lindon's all +right?--where is he?" he added anxiously, as the tears trickled down +her face. She choked, and he took hold of her arm to draw her aside +from the inquisitive glances directed to them. + +"He's--he's not killed?" whispered John hoarsely, apprehensive of the +common answer of these days. + +"No--no," she replied, in a quiet nerveless voice-- + +"worse." + +"Worse?" he queried. + +"He was wounded four months ago--his right hand shot away." + +They stood still, while the traffic roared about them. Strangely +detached from the scene, John watched the confluence of the traffic +around King Charles' statue, as it poured out of the Strand, +Northumberland Avenue and Whitehall. He saw the pigeons fluttering +down upon the placarded base of the Nelson plinth in Trafalgar +Square, and over it all, his brain was repeating an awful echo, "His +right hand shot away," the hand that had threaded those swift +passages of Beethoven, Chopin and Debussy on many memorable nights, +one of the hands on which rested his future fame. + +"Tilly, my poor girl!" he said quietly, as she stood there, frail and +tearful. "Let's walk down the Mall--I want to hear all." He took +her arm, and led her away from the traffic's vortex. For a space she +did not speak, then she smiled wanly. + +"Oh, I have him with me--he is so brave, and pretends he never misses +it--ties his own tie and is so proud when he gets it straight--but I +know all he's suffering. Sometimes I have seen him looking at the +closed piano as if his heart would break." She said no more, and +they walked on. Then abruptly John stopped and looked down into her +face. + +"Tilly--you have been married a month--then his--" + +Her eyes met his and answered him simply. + +"Oh, you poor brave child!" he cried, his own voice trembling this +time. + +"He needed me so, Scissors--and it makes no difference to me; at +least I have him safe now. But for him--" + +They walked on in silence. At the Marlborough Gate he left her, with +a promise to call on his next leave. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I + +The months slipped, months of peril, of thrills, of human drama and +comradeship. On Christmas Day, as they entered Dover Harbour, John +looked forward to the leave he had obtained. It had been a dreary, +nerve-wracking experience, a life in which monotony gave place to +unexpected activity. But the moment they reached the harbour, he was +told to report at the Admiral's office, and half an hour later was +under orders to proceed to Scapa Flow, the other extremity of Great +Britain, there to join H.M.S. Fanfare, of the Grand Fleet. Hastily +collecting his things, including a bundle of letters awaiting him, he +bade hurried and warm farewells to his shipmates, good fellows all of +them, despite the fact that they growled night and day about the +Service, knowing well they would be broken-hearted if they had to +leave it. + +On the evening of the same day, he was in the night express to +Edinburgh. He had had a few hours in London and had made three +calls--first at Mariton Street to deposit clothes and get fresh ones. +Here he found Capt. Fisher in a state of high prosperity, as +something in the Ordnance Survey Department. He was enjoying the war +tremendously and prophesied that it would last another five years. + +"It has revived British character, sir--the tonic we needed!" he +said, blithely indifferent to the holocaust of youth. Miss Simpson, +too, at the tea-table showed an indomitable spirit. She had been +visiting the dear brave boys in a local hospital, and related with +gusto a story told her of a Ghurka soldier who carried eight Germans' +heads in a sack, which he had refused to give up. "That's what +should happen to all the Germans," she added. + +"It's very horrible!" said John. + +Miss Simpson opened wide eyes in surprise. + +Then he called on Mrs. Graham, for he remembered that her boy was a +midshipman stationed with the Grand Fleet; perhaps they could meet. +Her flat, with its exquisite taste, cast the old spell upon him, even +before she came into the room. There was something so intimate in +the books, cushions, curtains, rugs and china, something that +revealed the hand of Mrs. Graham. She greeted him with great +pleasure, made him talk, and as he did so, he sat wondering at her +beauty, the lovely order of her hair, the music of her voice. She +had just had a letter from Muriel. That opened the flood-gates and +for an hour a wonderful little nurse near Amiens was the sole topic +of conversation. + +"It's more than a year since I saw her," he said, "and I am getting +more desperate every day." + +"You poor thing!" smiled Mrs. Graham. "This war is very hard for +young lovers; I pity them most of all. But she writes?" + +"Now and then--and wonderful letters too. I'm going to make extracts +and publish them." + +"You mercenary man!" she laughed. + +The hour fled. He had to go. She pressed a little autographed copy +of Flecker's Poems into his hand. He could smell the particular +perfume she used, for an hour afterwards. + +It was not until John was seated in the train, speeding northwards +through the night, that he had time to open his letters. There was +one from Marsh, in a base hospital, wounded but cheerful and +recommended for the M.C. "for conspicuous bravery in attack." + + +"_Just fancy how all the 'brave lad' stick-at-homes will be writing +to congratulate me on coming to my senses and showing my courage! +Ough! Scissors, it makes me sick. One hundred glad-eyed youngsters +were minced by steel in that attack--we gained eighty yards and lost +it all an hour afterwards. What idiots we humans are!_" + + +A very short letter from Muriel. She was resting after a nervous +breakdown. How long was the war going to last? It was very +wonderful being in the midst of things, but sometimes she wanted to +cry out; was Europe quite indifferent to all the suffering? + + +"_Oh, John, if only we could just romp into tea at 'The Croft' as in +those old days, with Dad and Mr. Ribble discussing the Insurance +Bill, and poor Tod banging in, covered with motor grease, and you and +Bobbie eating up all the bread and butter. It is awful to think it +will never be like that again... I feel ages old... If this--_" + + +Here came a break in the letter. + + +"_I've been called away for half an hour--a poor fellow in my ward +who kept asking for me. He's only twenty-five, and so young and +strong, with the dearest funny little smile. He's so helpless. I +feel just like a mother, with all these big babies around me--and +they're quite as troublesome, but very dear. I begin to realise, +John, that I had never really lived. I see things quite differently, +and you'll probably find me another kind of Muriel altogether. I +expect you've changed also--haven't all values changed these days? +We lived in a very little world once, and thought too much of +ourselves._" + + +He dropped the letter, a chill had come over him. Was it envy of +those big babies, and particularly the one "with the dearest funny +little smile?" Changed!--what did she mean by that? He hadn't +changed, why should she? True, they hadn't met for a year--and she +had not written lately. Why had he not insisted on their marriage? +He laughed then, a little uneasily at a thought that said, "You're +jealous!" and read on-- + + +"_It was very wonderful when you wrote about our settling down when +it is over--if ever. Somehow it seems too much to hope from life. +Things were getting very crazy in 1914 and I feel this war is putting +our relations on a more sensible basis._" + + +A more sensible basis!--what on earth did the girl mean. Was she +getting unnerved? He read the sentence over again. Yes, he must +insist on their marriage. She wanted a controlling hand; this war +was too much for her. With this resolve, he read on again, and +became easier in mind. + + +"_John, I couldn't leave this now, like this, with all this life +going on. It must be terrible for women to sit and wait at home. +Poor things. I read some of their letters to the men here and I +nearly break down. I am feeling a little shy of you, John, you are +so famous now. The nurses here bring me cuttings about you, and in +the mess room, there's a Sphere photograph of you coming down a +gangway. I love the naval uniform, and to think that I've never seen +you in it! Be kind to all those dear little middies, they must feel +so lonely on that big dreary sea._" + + +John smiled as he put the letter away. At that very moment, one of +those "dear little middies" lay with his head fast asleep on John's +shoulder, where he had slipped over. He would have to tell Muriel +that they detested being called "dear," "little," or "middies," and +that the average "snotty" could be entrusted to look well after +himself. There was another letter from Bobbie. He was not fit for +foreign service and he had been given a post at the War Office. Miss +Piggin sent a pair of woollen gloves she had knitted in "desperate +moments," for Chawley School was now a hospital for the wounded, with +Mrs. Tobin as commandant, "very successful, her firmness keeping the +men in order." Mr. Tobin was a chaplain at the front. She had had a +piece of Egyptian pottery sent by Mr. Woodman, who was a lieutenant +in the Yeomanry stationed near the Suez Canal. + +Having read his letters John surveyed his carriage, thinking of +sleep. He had been unable to get a sleeping berth, but there was +only the "snotty" and himself in the compartment. That young +gentleman had been solacing himself for his departure from +home-worship and civilisation, with a copy of _La Parisienne_ and the +semi-nude mademoiselles therein, all of whom appeared to spend their +time dressed only in chemises, sitting on the knees of officers. +John reflected on the necessity of a press censor for the +safeguarding of "snotties'" morals. The immediate problem was how to +dispose of this lad without waking him, if possible. John looked at +the face on his shoulder; it might have been a baby's, so fresh and +unwrinkled, with a little red mouth through which a row of white +teeth just showed. + +Very quietly he lowered the lad until he was reclining on the full +length of the seat; pulling his legs up entailed risk, but it was +done, and the Navy slept soundly. John made himself comfortable and +dozed off. + + + +II + +He was awakened by a ray of sunlight striking his eyes. The train +was standing in a small station. Looking out of the window, he saw a +group of houses, all brightly yellow in the morning sun. A slight +mist and a chill air told him it was early morning and there was the +smell of the sea in the air. A great range of blue mountains loomed +in the distance, with a flat estuary between, and the tide out. He +was alone in the compartment, but in a minute or so his companion +returned along the platform, fresh-coloured and bright-eyed in the +nipping air, bearing two cups of steaming coffee. + +"Will you have one, sir?" he asked. "I'm awfully sorry I went to +sleep on you last night--did I push you off the seat, sir?" + +John laughed and explained. + +"Where are we?" he asked. + +"Bonar Bridge--we're on the Highland Railway now, sir. We've passed +Cromarty Firth--we've got a dummy fleet in there to diddle +Fritz--then through Sutherlandshire--jolly wild and desolate over +those moors all the way to Thurso. We'll be there by tea-time, sir." + +The boy chatted away brightly. This was his second journey, he was +proud of being a veteran. He had been in the Jutland Battle, blown +into the sea and picked up from a grating by a submarine, along with +five survivors of a crew of eight hundred. + +The day drew on; noon passed; still they climbed northwards. They +were in desolate regions now, with tiny hamlets set in the wild +moors. There was a feeling of great space and the silence was broken +only by the cry of a bird. They passed Dunrobbin Castle, standing +high and lonely on its promontory overlooking the desolate sea. As +prophesied, they reached Thurso at tea-time. + +A motor omnibus took them along the coast from Thurso to Scrabster, +the point of embarkation. Here John parted from his young companion, +who gave him the smartest little salute, bestowed on admirals and +admiring young ladies only. John boarded a destroyer. Half an hour +later, entering a gate made by two drifters which lowered a boom, he +saw the Fleet. There it lay, enormous, like floating animals asleep +on the water, glittering with the afternoon sun. Here was the +strength of England. It was a sight to quicken the heart. From his +place on the bridge, to which the skipper invited him, John surveyed +this grey steel city of the brotherhood of the brave. The sea mist +seemed to cloud his eyes. + +That night he met his fellow officers, walked over the ship, a new +model of the Dreadnought class, installed himself in his cabin, saw +his office with typewriter, clerk's desk, and telephone to the +wireless room. He interviewed his marine orderly, a stocky little +Cockney youth, shining all over like the breach of a gun. He slept +soundly that night, awakened early by his orderly with a hip-bath, +hot water can and carefully brushed clothes. At ten a cutter came to +take him to the flag ship to present his much-examined credentials. +A smart flag officer met him at the top of the companion way and +conducted him below. The Commander-in-Chief would see him in a few +minutes. John waited on the deck flat. Rear-admirals entered and +emerged from the white-enamelled, brass-handled door on his right. +There seemed to be a staff of flag officers in attendance, all young +and alert, with their gold lace and showy aiglettes drooping from +their shoulders. Half an hour passed, John growing more nervous +every minute. Then the young flag officer called his name and +ushered him into the presence. + +It was a large room, with a fireplace and the far end completely +windowed, bow-shaped, under which ran a verandah round the stern of +the ship, where grew potted geraniums. In the sunlit air above the +wind-flecked water, small seagulls cried and hovered. The water +threw a shimmering reflection on to the white ceiling. By a table, +on which stood a silver portrait frame, a small bookrest holding +novels, a "Who's Who" and an "Army Guide," was a baby grand piano. A +red carpet covered the large floor up to the pilastered fireplace. +All this John saw in a glance before looking into the face of the +man, who stood, his back to a large flag-dotted map of the North Sea, +holding out his hand, his face puckered in a pleasant smile. + +He was a small man, with dark penetrating eyes, a thin-lipped wide +mouth, with corners that suggested a vivid sense of humour. The nose +was slightly hooked, and John immediately recognised the striking +resemblance to his brother, a Hampshire vicar who had stayed with the +Marshs. But if the great position and fame of the man before him +made him nervous, it was immediately dispelled by the kindness of the +voice, and the charm of his personality. For twenty minutes they +talked, their conversation touching many points of common interest, +and on this occasion only briefly upon the work of the new +correspondent. Every minute an anxious officer looked into the room, +but the Chief ignored his hint of fretful persons without. At the +end, another warm handshake and John passed out. Back on his own +ship again, he was assailed and made to satisfy the general curiosity +concerning "the Old Man." + +Thus he entered upon a new era of experience, and watched Spring give +place to Summer in the chilly northern waters; and upon the +precipitous cliffs of the lonely islands saw the bird life, +indifferent to mankind invading its hitherto unmolested domain. + + + +III + +The tranquillity of his new life, despite the atmosphere of constant +vigilance, brought a great calm to John. He had been a silent +sufferer in the appalling devastation, human and material, he had +witnessed in Flanders, and under the fearful strain of the Dover +vigil. Life on board was industrious but regular, and with the +cheerful companionship of these well-balanced philosophers around +him, he began to feel less acutely sensitive to the tragic action of +the world drama. In a way he felt uneasy. He was not quite taking +his share of the burden laid on the shoulders of youth. He would +have liked to stand by the side of Vernley and Marsh and a dozen +others. Here he was a spectator, waiting for something that might +never happen, something which he hoped never would happen, for the +event was fraught with immense and appalling possibilities. Often +John stared, hypnotised by the sleek quiet power of the long guns, +that moved so slowly in the morning air, like cautious antennæ. Yet +swift destruction could pour out of those harmless nozzles under the +obedience of hidden forces within the turrets. It seemed incredible +that floating mammoths such as these ships might dissolve in air +under the battery of similar guns. + +But as the weeks wore on, eventless save for rumours and the +variations of discipline, the idea of war receded, though +occasionally incoming destroyers or drifters brought grim little +stories of short encounters outside their tranquil anchorage. They +read the newspapers and closely followed the vicissitudes of the war, +now spread to many fronts, in many climes, and affecting almost all +races on the earth, either directly or indirectly. And the +incredible was happening, the successive war prophets, the weekly +commentators, fell into oblivion, for this war went on despite all +the carefully enunciated reasons why it could not go on. According +to statistics, the German legions had been wiped out many times over, +but still they pressed hard the defending line, changed from the +defensive to the offensive with astounding virility for an army +pronounced exhausted and emaciated. + +Letters from the front brought John into close touch with realities. +Muriel now wrote less frequently. Her hospital work grew heavier; he +could discern the heartache underlying some of her words, sometimes +an impatient note of protest against the politicians gaining wordy +victories, while wrecked humanity poured into the hospitals to be +botched up and start out again, until the human shuttlecocks fell, +never to rise. Then one day, a rare event, a letter from Vernley, a +poor writer, yet one whose disjointed chronicles were eagerly read. +John opened the letter in the messroom where he had been talking with +the ship's doctor, and read through it slowly; then on the fourth +page his heart seemed to stop. + + +"_Poor old Marsh! I suppose we'll all go West sooner or later, but +somehow Scissors, I can't think of him as dead. He was so full of +life, such a tireless beggar and such a fund of fun in him. I'm +tormenting myself with the thought that I once behaved rather +silly--I cut him on a platform one day, before he joined up. I know +it hurt--I wanted it to--he told me so later when I ran across him +here. Thank God we put it right. Still, I hurt him, Scissors, and +he was too dear a chap for me to behave like that, and I'm coming to +think he was right,--the more I see of this bloody mess, with no end +to it, and all of us wondering why we stand it._" + + +John put the letter down, numbed. He watched a destroyer through the +porthole, passing on, saw a gull wheel and turn, with a silver glint +as the sun caught its wings, heard the siren of H.M.S. Oak, speeding +on its message-delivering mission; all these things went on about +him, yet they were in a picture; only he was the unreal thing. Marsh +gone! How could that be with the morning so fresh and active, with +so much life about? Surely he would walk in here, and with a laugh, +clap him on the shoulder, with something thoroughly absurd to say. +Dead? Why--fellows like Marsh could not die! + +His thoughts flew away to the rambling vicarage. He saw Mrs. Marsh +sitting at the piano, under the lamplight; saw Mr. Marsh in his +study, pipe going, the "_Nation_" in his hands. Could life go on and +Marsh not be part of it? + +Hours passed before the significance of it became clear to him, but a +week passed before he was able to take up a pen and write to Mrs. +Marsh. That terrible task performed, he felt now prepared for +anything. The world was falling to bits; nothing could be saved. +The bad news from the front affected him little. He wondered at the +gloomy faces of the men around him. Why be affected by the +inevitable? It would all be enacted as relentlessly as in a Greek +play. Another blow would come yet, of that he was sure; life was to +be wholly disintegrated. + +But the weeks went on and nothing happened. Letters came, curious +restrained letters, at longer intervals from Muriel. Vernley, as if +conscious of the lessening circle, wrote more frequently. Lindon, in +a big boyish left hand sent the town gossip; he had found a +consolation, he was composing, and Tilly was wonderful. June came, +with warmer and longer days in those northern waters, and with it a +hurried note from Muriel saying she would be in London in a week; +could he meet her, as she wished to see him? Her wish was a command +that found him eager to obey. A few wires, an interview, and he was +released; his leave was overdue and the _Daily Post_ offered to send +a temporary substitute at once. John waited impatiently four days +and almost embraced his successor when H.M.S. Oak brought him +alongside. He wired to Muriel asking when and where they could meet. +On Friday night he was back in London, more wonderful, more beloved +than ever to the exile, and found a reply at Mrs. Perdie's bidding +him meet her in the lounge at Claridge's on Saturday evening at +seven. He pictured her, waiting for him there, in a chic nurse's +uniform, and to be worthy of her and in celebration of the great +occasion, he put on his best service jacket. + +He was there at five minutes before the hour, and to his surprise she +was already waiting for him. He rushed towards her with impetuous +boyish joy, that raised smiles on many observant faces around. Her +greeting was more restrained, and her calmness steadied him. How +splendid she was and how lovely, he thought. She had changed, of +course, but she was the more Muriel for all that. + +"We've a private sitting room--let us go upstairs," she said, when he +had let her withdraw her hand. + +"You're staying here?" he asked, surprised. + +"Yes," she answered. There was nothing said in the lift. He could +only look at her, but once the door had closed upon them in the small +hall opening on the tiny sitting room, he put his arms out to take +her into them. + +"Darling," he whispered, but she seemed too agitated with nervous joy +to respond, and led the way into the room, where she immediately sat +down. Even then he did not see that she was slightly unnatural, as +under a strain. The first indication was her voice as she pronounced +his name. He looked at her more observantly; a dumb pain in her +eyes, which met his with a quiet strength, caused his heart to sink a +little. + +"Muriel--there's nothing wrong?" + +She looked down at her hands a moment, and then up at him as he stood +over her. Something in her whole attitude struck him as piteous. He +sat down opposite her. + +"John--dear--I am going to hurt you terribly. If you cannot forgive +me I shall understand. I am no longer Muriel Vernley--I am Muriel +Harvey." + +He looked at her. What was she saying? She was unnerved, he could +see that; this strain had been too much for her. But in that brief +silence she saw by the kindness in his eyes that he had not +understood. + +"I am Mrs. Frank Harvey, John--I'm married." And to make her words +clear, she held out her hand, with its ringed finger. + +Even then he just looked at her, and she saw that his eyes were those +of a troubled child. + +"Muriel--you can't mean it!--how can you be married!" he cried, in a +low voice. + +This time she could not look at him, she did not want to see the +agony that was coming. + +"I cannot ask you to forgive me, John--I know that, and if you think +hardly, perhaps I deserve it--but oh, I don't want to hurt you--I +don't, John, I--" + +He had risen now and had gone over to the window, his face turned +from her, looking down into the well of the building. What was he +thinking? + +"It's incredible!" he said huskily, after a pause. "You cannot make +a fool of me like this, Muriel, you can't--why, it's impossible!" he +burst out, turning and spreading his hands wide; and then seeing her +face clearly for the first time, he knew it was true. + +She was talking now--words, words, words. What could a woman say +worth listening to by a man thrown on one side like a discarded doll; +and he knew it all. Of course she had met him in hospital, there was +no need to narrate all that. He had appealed to her sympathies. But +he blamed her, not the man, who only pressed his opportunity. He +assumed a calm attitude until she had finished, as though he had not +really heard, for he was busy putting on a mask, determined she +should not see how cruelly hurt he was. Once out of the room, he +could face the thing squarely, but here, she must not see. + +"Of course it has all been very silly--our boy and girl romance," he +said, as lightly as he could, and he found a slight pleasure in +noticing he had hurt her, for she paled as she stood up. + +"Silly?--you cannot think it was that, John--" she pleaded, and his +heart smote him, but pride insisted on the mask. He held out his +hand formally. + +"Good-bye, Muriel." + +Would he go like this, she thought, so blind to her terrible trial? +A noise behind made him turn. A key was being fitted in the lock. +She saw his face set, and its sudden tension told her more than his +voice or words had betrayed. There was the sound of voices. One he +knew well, would have rejoiced at on any other occasion but this,--it +was Vernley's. And the other? John's eyes met Muriel's and they +felt their hearts throbbing in that long moment. The door swung open +and Vernley entered, following a young man, an officer, +fresh-complexioned and of medium height and build. + +"John!" cried Vernley, holding out an eager hand, but John was +looking at him. + +"Frank," said Muriel quietly, "this--" + +The man interrupted her eagerly. + +"Muriel--I'm getting on fine. I've put the key in myself. Don't +move, I know where you are, watch me! There's a window on the right, +the lounge on the left wall, you're standing by it--and a chair +here!" he cried, touching it lightly with his fingers as he walked +forward. + +"Frank--this is my friend--Mr. Dean," she said. + +The young officer halted, his hand raised for a moment. + +"Oh, sorry," he cried, cheerfully. "How d'you do?" + +He turned and held out his hand, but in front of John, a little to +the left, as though he might be there, and the face turned that way, +smiling at him. + +A glance, and John took the misdirected hand and looked into +sightless blue eyes. + +"How d'ye do, Mr. Dean?--Glad to meet any of Muriel's friends. I'm +rather sudden on the scene, eh!" + +He laughed boyishly. + +"And they'll wonder why she's got this blind old war horse--won't +they, Muriel?" + +His laughter would have been infectious at any other time, but now it +echoed as in an empty room and was engulfed in silence. Vernley +watching it all, stood by the door. Muriel was crying now; the blind +man stood gripping the chair, sensing something unusual. + +"I must hurry away now," said John. "Good-bye." + +He shook the soldier's hand again, then moved towards Muriel, and +without speaking raised her hand to his lips. For a long moment he +held it so, while she looked down on his bowed head mistily. A +moment later he had closed the door behind him and was in the +corridor. + +But he was not to go alone. Vernley hurried after him. + +"Scissors, my dear old Scissors!" he cried, taking John's arm as they +walked towards the lift. "It's a mystery, I don't understand it, I'm +sure she--she--oh damn! you know what I mean! Let's go somewhere, +I'm all upside down!" + +The lift took them out to the world again. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I + +They were very patient with him at the office of the _Daily Post_. +He delayed his return to the Grand Fleet again and again. Merritt, +with an observant eye saw that the young man was on the verge of a +nervous breakdown, but he could not disguise his surprise, when, +after fourteen days' absence, during which they had no word from him, +Dean entered his room and said he could not go back to Scapa Flow +again, and wished to resign. + +Merritt stared for a moment and poured out a flood of reasons against +such preposterous folly. There was his duty to the paper, which had +given him his chance and helped him to fame. Would he let Walsh down +in this manner? What of the public that read his despatches so +avidly? It was base ingratitude, sheer folly. The gods had poured +all the good gifts into his lap. + +John laughed bitterly at this. + +"What's come over you, Dean? I've never seen you like this before; +you've been going about with a green hue on your face for the last +two weeks. Are you crossed in love?" + +"That's no business of yours!" flared John. + +The suddenness and intensity of the reply startled him. + +Merritt veiled his surprise: he had touched a secret spring somewhere. + +"Oh, I'm sorry, Dean--but you're getting a little difficult to deal +with." + +"I'm sick of life!" said John, dropping into a chair and beating a +tattoo upon the table with his hands. Merritt let him brood awhile. + +"What's the matter?" he asked, "are you tired of the Navy?" + +"No--but I want to go away, right away!" + +"Well--go back to France. I'll speak to Walsh." + +"No--that's too near--right away, if I go anywhere." + +Merritt looked at him, but said nothing. John rose. + +"Come in to-morrow--Walsh may want to see you." + +"Right--and I want to see him. Merritt, I've decided to throw it all +up--this correspondent work--I'm going to join up." + +If Merritt felt like falling, he did not show it. He was sure now +that the strain had affected the boy's reason. + +"Oh--well, you'll be a quitter if you do." + +"How?" + +"With a pen like yours, you've a duty to perform. Haven't you +thought of all the people who read newspapers for a gleam of comfort? +You've a sympathetic note in your work--and many a worried mother's +had a little more hope to hold out with, after she's finished your +column." + +It was the first time Merritt had praised him. + +"If you want to go--you'll go, of course, and we can't stop you--but +you fall in my estimation. If it's England you want to got out +of--well, we want a man in Mesopotamia." + +Mesopotamia, the East! Again and again John's thoughts had travelled +eastwards. In the last few weeks a deep longing for the skies of his +boyhood had possessed him; he wanted to throw off all the Western +civilisation now curbing and fretting him. + +"If you'll send me there," he replied quietly, "I'll carry on--but I +want to get right away." + +Merritt had won his point. John promised to return and see Walsh in +the afternoon. + +The subsequent interview was short and satisfactory. He was to sail +from Plymouth in a fortnight, his ultimate destination being Basra. + +"It's strange, Dean, but I didn't care to propose this when I first +thought of it some time ago," said Walsh, as he bade him good-bye. +"I thought you'd dislike being so far from your home-base." + +Downstairs again, John, with the words "home-base" echoing in his +ears, laughed to himself. What home-base had he here in England, +with friends dying in every trench and the world tumbling in ruin +about his ears? The East--that was, after all, his true home-base. +He should never have left it. To this hour it called him; its +witchery was in his blood; almost he could smell the distinctive +odour, hear the jingle of camel bells as the caravans wound out along +the old highways. + +And then a pang of regret smote him. He had friends here, good +friends. Ever since that terrible night when his whole future had +collapsed like a pack of cards, Vernley had been assiduous in his +attention. They had passed the ensuing days together, doing nothing +in particular, strolling here, eating there, talking of everything +but the one thing that obsessed them both. Once only had they faced +reality. + +"I can't think why she did it, Scissors, I can't really. She must +have been deranged with all she'd seen, and her pity overcame +her--women are at the mercy of moods. I've not spoken to her yet +about it--I daren't trust myself at present, but when I do, I--" + +John put a detaining hand on his arm. + +"Bobbie--please don't. It can make no difference now. Perhaps we +are all wrong--the whole world's upside down somehow. I don't want +to feel bitter--I'm not going to feel anything again, I think, and if +she's happy--" + +"She can't be, Scissors!" interrupted Vernley vehemently. + +"Then she is suffering too--don't make it harder." + +"It's her fault--no, it's his, I think--he's played upon her +sympathy--he caught her with a--" + +"Bobbie--don't!--We--we can't hit him--now, as he is." + +Vernley whisked his stick through the air, as though beating his way +through a tangle. They walked on in silence. Suddenly he stopped, +and confronted his friend, his face quivering, his voice ringing with +suppressed emotion. + +"Scissors--you're a wonderful chap to take it like this! God! if it +had been me--I'd have--I'd have--" + +"Faced it, Bobbie," said John simply, "but why talk about it any +more?" + +But his calm belied him. To the wondering Vernley, it was marvellous +self-control and astounding resignation. Even Vernley did not +realise that his friend had sunk so low in the waters of despair, +that a numbness was upon him; that light and air were no longer the +craving of life. He was drowning, and the first fearful struggle had +given place to a benumbed acquiescence in Fate. Yes, light and air +had gone, that was certain. + +They never mentioned the subject again, not even when they shook +hands for the last time, before John travelled down to the Marshs', +prior to sailing. Vernley wanted to take him to "The Croft," but +that would have been too much for him, and Vernley realised the +artificial naturalness they would all assume, and dropped the project. + +The sun had set, and the livid upper sky tinged the sullen waters of +the Thames, as in the final minutes, they paused at the bottom of +Mariton Street. Vernley was walking back along the Embankment to the +hospital where he was still a patient, with a shell-splintered leg +now healing, two inches permanently short. + +He grew philosophical in those speeding minutes, as the light died, +and the lamps began to glow dimly along the curve of the embankment, +running from the darkened East into the fiery West. + +"What a mess it all is, Scissors--and some old blighters are making +speeches about the England that is to be after the war, the era of +reconstruction, of glory and peace; and here we are blasting each +other off the earth, many of us dead, half of us limping, and none of +us quite knowing ourselves as we were. Jove! Sedley seems like a +dream--poor old Marsh and Tod, and--my God, what a mess, what a mess, +I'm not sure that I care about seeing the end of it! Scissors, it +has been wonderful though--we can't be robbed of that by all the +damned politicians and the butchering generals. And to have had you +for a friend--why it's--" + +He could not finish--with a silent handshake he suddenly turned, and +limped away in the gathering darkness. + +When he had gained his room John sat down and thought. He sat +silently there until the last gleam faded in the sky, until the room +grew totally dark, and outside a large moon climbed up from the +chimney stacks. Mrs. Perdie found him there when she came in to +light the gas, preparatory to retiring for the night. She thought +how worn he looked, and suggested a cup of cocoa, but he declined it +with a faint smile of thanks. On her way to the top attic, she +reflected that only youth could plumb the full misery of these tragic +days. + + + +II + +In the train to Renstone, John wondered how he would find Mr. and +Mrs. Marsh. He had had two letters from them since their son's +death, letters written by Mrs. Marsh, full of quiet grief and +patiently uncomplaining. Somehow this journey to Renstone brought +Marsh's vivacious personality more vividly before him. Their days +together had been without an open confession of friendship, but their +attachment was deep, and Vernley's part in it equal, so that the old +adage, "two's company, three's none," was proved utterly foolish. + +At the station a trap met him, driven by the old gardener at the +Vicarage. The sun beat down fiercely upon them on the slow drive +along the country road. The regal splendour of June blazed on each +side, in the woodlands and on the hills. Then the trap turned in at +the familiar gates, past the central holly bush in the drive, and +halted at the door. It opened as he alighted, and Mrs. Marsh stood +there, hatless and smiling. + +"You are just in time for tea," she said, as he moved towards her. +So she had remembered his love of the tea hour and their talks! She +had not altered in any way, as he had feared. Perhaps her hair was a +little greyer, but of that he could not be sure; as for signs of the +grief she had suffered, there was none upon that face of almost +childlike grace. Far different with Mr. Marsh, however. John met +him in the hall, and was shocked at the change in him. His hair was +now wholly white, and the characteristic rectitude of his bearing had +gone. He stooped slightly, and John felt, as he took the welcoming +hand, it was a little feeble; but the irradiating kindness of his +smile was there as ever, and the gentle humorous way of talking. + +They had tea on the lawn, under the copper beech, with an arrogant +peacock attempting to disguise its interest in their proceedings. +The old cat came out from under the rose bush where it had slept in +the shadow; a few birds lazily twittered in the screen of elms at the +far end of the garden, audibly tremulous in their tops as the wind +passed through them. The loudest noise was made by the wasps +crowding about the jam-dish. They talked of a dozen things, with +never a mention of Teddie's name, until after half an hour, just +before Mr. Marsh went in to his study, he said-- + +"I'm afraid you'll find it very quiet here, my boy. You see, we've +not marked the tennis lawn this summer--Teddie always did that, and +there's no young people call now, they're all away. So you'll have +to amuse yourself." + +He went indoors, sadly, thought John. Mrs. Marsh watched him go. + +"Poor father," she said at last. "It has hurt him terribly." + +John turned to her. + +"And you?" he asked quietly. + +She smiled at him. + +"Perhaps I am less rebellious, John--I don't know. But I feel, +always I have felt, he has not gone, Teddie's here all the time." + +"Here?" + +"Yes--in this garden. Sometimes I sit here in the afternoon with my +sewing and listen to the wind in these trees. Sometimes there's not +a murmur of sound, and yet I feel that Teddie's here, just behind my +chair, or pulling the lawn roller down there, or lying in the sun +with a cushion under his head, 'basking' as he called it. I'm not +what you call psychic, John,--I've never given any thought to these +things, but I know he is not dead, that he moves with us here, +perhaps hears all we say. You know how he loved to talk. This is +foolish, perhaps,--but oh John, I am so sure I am right!" + +He said nothing, but sat beside her. It was beautiful in this old +vicarage garden. Generations of vicars had tended it, and June came +year by year, with its profusion of roses, its climbing honeysuckle +and night-scented verbena. Was it too much to believe that any one +who had loved this spot, whose boyhood had passed in its peace, whose +love still lingered here, should come back, unseen? This was a +thought of faith, of love that would not countenance surrender; was +it a thought any the less reasonable because it sprang from abiding +love? He was a child in such experience, it was not for him to +judge; happy for her if Faith's bright star shone in the darkness of +these days. + +He did not speak, he could not; any words of his would have seemed +desecration. He just sat there by her side, in the flower-scented +glow of the garden, while the sun dropped to the horizon and the +shadow of the elms lengthened along the lawn. The birds were now +twittering before sleep overtook them; the rookery over by the hall +grew noisy as the sky changed from rose-red to translucent green, +with an adventurous star here and there in the silver grey of the +east. The dinner bell tolled at the Hall. Mrs. Marsh broke the +silence. + +"There, it is time we dressed. I have given you Teddie's room, I +thought you would like it," she said. + +Under the pergola they paused and looked back over the gardens +towards the yew hedge, behind which the fading light of the horizon +flamed in the heart of the sunset. Softly she repeated, + + "_Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns + And the round ocean and the living air._" + + +"Oh, John, I know I am right--the living air! I can't think of +Teddie as dead, he loved life too much for that; he was too joyous to +end in mere nothingness." + +Her eyes shone with love as she spoke, and, that moment, her faith +became his. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +In those last few days he deliberately kept his thoughts away from +Muriel. Not that he was distressed by any bitterness; perhaps a +little bitterness, a resentment of her injustice, would have +comforted him. The inexplicable reasons of her action he ceased to +ponder, and the consequences, he felt, were not his. Vernley had +wanted to talk. Curiously, he now saw, Vernley revolted far more +than he against the accomplished fact of her marriage. Why did she +marry him? Was she in her right senses? Was she a nervous wreck? +Could she possibly love this man? How could she treat her lover so +callously?--all these aspects of the enigma worried Vernley in +succession, and ceaselessly he battered himself, mothwise, against +the undiminished, glaring fact of Muriel's marriage to a stranger. +All this had not helped John, and he had tried to make Vernley see +it, but the latter fretted ceaselessly against the finality of her +folly. + +"I don't understand women--I don't really. If ever a girl was madly +in love, she was with you. She grew up with the idea of marrying +you--and suddenly she turns round and bolts without reason." + +And John felt also that Vernley could not understand his attitude. +Vernley did not realise that henceforth he had ceased to feel +anything, that he was just numb to life. Muriel had written after +that dreadful interview. She made no excuses, gave no explanations, +only she wanted him to know that always he had been first in her +thoughts. He laughed when he read the letter, and in a vindictive +moment felt he would like to ask her one question. "Who is first +now?" For he knew that would distress her intensely. She could not +possibly love this man, he was sure of that. She had mistaken +motherliness and the protective instinct for the deeper emotions of +love, and in a temporary aberration had seen in self-sacrifice +something greater than a love which had encountered no real obstacles. + +Had he but known, as he thought this, she was sitting in Mrs. +Graham's flat seeking confirmation of her act. Mrs. Graham listened +to her sympathetically, but gave her no comfort, for she affected no +compromise with the hard fact that Muriel had not married the man she +loved. + +"Am I to blame, Mrs. Graham?--oh yes, I am, I am, but he must know I +am not callous--that I still--" + +Mrs. Graham smiled gently, and took the nervously clasped hands in +hers. + +"Muriel--in all you've said when you have said 'him', you have meant +John. Need we disguise that? You can no more explain than I can. +We women will never know why we throw away our lives." + +At that the young wife broke down and wept in the other woman's arms. + +"What can I do, what can I do?" she implored. + +"Nothing," said Mrs. Graham. "My dear child you are not the first or +the last sacrifice to impulse. You are not going to suffer long; +your husband needs you so greatly and I think we women, if we realize +it early enough, are only lastingly in love when we are happy in +self-sacrifice." + +She felt Muriel quiver in her arms and held her a while. Half an +hour later, composed again, she went, but not before she had talked +of her husband, of his cheerfulness, his eagerness to follow all she +did. He had planned their whole life together, and she was not to +realise she had a blind husband. + +It was well she had not stayed to tea, for scarcely an hour had +elapsed when the bell rang. Instinctively Mrs. Graham knew it was +John. That he would come, she had never doubted. His confidence in +her had touched her from that moment of boyish ardour in which he had +acted as self-appointed cavalier on their first meeting at "The +Croft." + +When he entered she saw that he had changed. He had put on a mask, +of that she was sure. + +"Muriel has just gone," she said straightly, looking at him. + +"Oh!" he replied, but with no surprise or embarrassment. + +They sat down to tea. He talked of the Marshs, of their garden, of +how Mrs. Marsh bore her loss. Mrs. Graham watched and let him talk +of anything but the subject on which he really wished to talk. Then +quickly, as he leaned over to take a piece of bread. "How is +Muriel?" he asked, without a tremour in his voice. + +"She has been here and talked to me, John. It's no use our putting +masks on. You know she loves you still." + +He sat silent for a few moments, then twisted his handkerchief in his +hands, and looked down into his teacup. + +"I never thought otherwise," he said at last. And then, +dispassionately, he told her his plans. He was going away, he was +going to keep away. He would never forget, of course, but she might, +and that would be half the battle. If they met later and she showed +that he had ceased to be first in her love, then he would not find it +so hard. To go away, to stay away, only that offered hope for them +both. + +Mrs. Graham smiled in his face as she said-- + +"That is a desperate remedy," and although nothing had betrayed him +in his voice, his eyes were full of dumb pain. "But John dear, +perhaps you will be unable to stay away--had you thought of that?" + +He laughed now, bitterly, she thought. + +"Then I must make it impossible for me to return--but no woman can +mean all that to a man," he added fiercely. "After all, love is the +whole of a woman's life, it's only part of a man's--he has other +interests." + +"You don't mean that John, dear," said Mrs. Graham quietly. + +"I do." + +"You don't!" she reiterated, looking at him steadily. For a moment +he returned her look boldly, while her hands closed over his on the +table; suddenly his eyes filled with tears and he bowed his head over +her hands. Neither of them spoke for what seemed a long time. She +saw he could not endure this strain, and came abruptly to earth. + +"More tea, John?" she asked, withdrawing her hands, and smiling at +him, as though they had been foolish. + +For the next hour they were very practical. He explained his plans. +The prospect of his work filled him with lively anticipation. + +"You know, I feel as if I were going home--as if I had a home," he +said, "and if I hear Turkish spoken, although I have forgotten it +all, I'm sure I shall lapse into those Amasia days again. I had a +great friend there, a fellow called Ali--a Turk. I often wonder +what's happened to him--whether he's been smashed up in it all. It's +a silly world. Here I am, his official enemy--and we were sworn +brothers. Look, I've still got his talisman here." + +He opened his shirt and pulled out the moonstone with the word +"Kismet" inscribed upon it. + +"What a beautiful thing!" cried Mrs. Graham. + +"Would you like it?" he asked, impulsively. + +"No, John--you must not part with it, after all these years--and he +gave it to you to keep." + +"But it's only silly sentiment, Mrs. Graham." + +"Sentiment is not always silly, John--'Kismet' who knows?" + +He laughed out gaily, and she was glad to hear him laugh so. There +was the ring of youth in it still. + +"Very well then--I'll wear it because of you," he said. + +"And Ali?" she added. + +"And Ali," he echoed lightly. "But you shall have one gift for +remembrance." + +"I would like something, certainly." + +"I shall not give it you except in an eventuality." + +She laughed at him. + +"Dear me, how formal and serious we are!" + +"It's a statue--my nickname too--'Narcissus listening to Echo.' You +know it? Dear old Marsh gave it to me in one of his whimsical moods. +It's damaged, but it's very lovely and I have a sentimental +attachment to it for his sake. I want you to keep it safely for +me--and if I never come to reclaim it," he said quietly, "I want it +to become yours." + +She regarded him a moment, and saw that he was very serious, full of +the drama of youth. + +"John dear, you're talking like a novelette; 'if you never come +back'--that's always what the rejected hero says in the last chapter +but one. You're not made of that kind of stuff. But I'll keep it +gladly--and perhaps, when you come to claim it, I shall not be +willing to part with it." + +He rose to go, but she saw that he had still something more to say. + +"Well?" she asked him, as he stood, hat in hand, after making +arrangements for her to receive the statue. + +"You are wonderful, Mrs. Graham," he said, frankly. "You seem to +read my thoughts." + +"Oh, no, but I see you have some. Tell me, John." + +He hesitated briefly, but her eyes helped him. + +"There are some letters--Muriel's. I have them all--she wrote great +letters from the Front. They're all numbered in a despatch box. +Will you keep the box for me--and--" he hesitated again, but she +waited, uttering no word, "if I don't reclaim the statue--send them +to her?" + +He saw that she assented, and after that he dare not trust himself +longer. Almost abruptly he said good-bye and went. + + + + +BOOK VI + +EAST AGAIN + + + +CHAPTER I + + +I + +John and young Sanderson were half asleep in the orange grove that +sheltered the row of tents from the merciless midday sun. All the +afternoon they had dozed, just under the oranges that ripened within +their reach; but about four o'clock, the noise of a Ford car coming +up the boarded track to the aerodrome, from its journey to Jaffa, +woke them from their siesta. A party had been down into the port on +a day's excursion. It was their last probably, for early at dawn, on +the morrow, the great attack was to be made and every one of the +aeroplanes now receiving final touches from the mechanics would be +soaring in that blue and cloudless heaven whence death would rain +upon the trenches below. + +"I haven't written those blessed letters after all," said Sanderson +yawning. "I must do it to-night." + +He stood up, a slim graceful youth in his shorts and khaki shirt. +The fierce Eastern sun had browned his legs and arms, though it had +not caught him so fiercely as John. He rubbed his fingers through +his wavy hair and looked down at his companion. + +"Do you know, Dean, I think you must be the re-incarnation of an arab +sheik--I never knew a fellow who loved the desert heat like +you--you're looking splendidly fit." He laughed and threw an orange +at his companion as he lay in the shade. "There's something feline +about the way you purr in this devilish climate." + +John smiled, stood up and collected the letters he had written. + +"Let's hear the news from Jaffa," he said to Sanderson--and strolled +across the clearing towards the fringe of tents. They had been +together since John's arrival two months back, and this +happy-go-lucky lad of twenty reminded him at moments of poor Marsh. +He had the same volatile spirits, now very elated or full of +apprehension, tireless and restless, and very human and often +childlike in certain moods. It was to John that he raved about Mary, +the little English girl in faraway Sussex, and so deep became their +intimacy that he entrusted her letters to John, for him to co-operate +in his intense admiration of her wonderful epistolary style, her +unbounded lovableness. John soon knew much about his mother and +father, the latter a retired naval officer living in a little house +on the Devon Coast; through Sanderson, he could see the gentle little +lady who wrote in such a perfect hand with unbroken regularity, +chronicling the small events of the domestic round. That Sanderson +loved her devotedly, John knew from the light that came into his eyes +when he talked of her. + +"You must write those letters, Sandy," said John, as they entered the +mess-tent. It was a task Sanderson hated, being always unable to +find anything to write about. A letter meant much at home, and after +to-night they-- + +"I'll do 'em after dinner," promised Sanderson. + +Dinner that evening was a merry affair. The excitement of the morrow +was in their blood. John looked round at his comrades, all very +young, not one giving any sign of the apprehension he might feel. +General Allenby was making a great push with his left flank, +stretching from the sandy coast to the Jordan basin and the rising +hills of Judæa. The bombing squadron was engaged in the task of +cutting off the Turkish army on the line of retreat along the +Ferweh-Balata road. The Turk was on the run and this might be a last +great opportunity. They were to start before dawn. Early in the +day, John had sought and obtained permission to accompany the +squadron. Sanderson was to take him in his Bristol fighter. The +spirit of victory was in the air. That evening Sanderson twanged his +banjo with great spirit and sang "Glorious Devon" and his eyes +watered when MacDermott gave "Highland Mary," the heavy sentiment +assisted by many highland toasts. Scottish or English, it was Mary, +and Sanderson almost broke down just before they retired to snatch a +few hours of sleep. + +"Have you written those letters?" asked John,--Sanderson stood +stripped in the moonlight, shaking out his shirt. + +"No." + +"Then you're not coming into this tent until you have," said John +firmly. + +"Well, I can't write like this, can I?" + +John laughed, holding Sanderson's shorts firmly. + +"You promise to write at once?" + +"Yes--Lord, I'm cold." + +"Here you are then, and here's my fountain pen; you can see in this +moonlight." + +Sanderson sat down on a box and put a writing pad on his knees. John +walked across the clearing for a final survey before turning in. He +climbed a ridge behind the grove, and above the tree tops a vast +panorama swept into view. Away to the left in the grey void, the sea +lay, the blue Mediterranean sea that glittered by day under the +changeless canopy of heaven. In the night air he could hear the +far-off roar of the surf, fitfully borne on a wind blowing up the +ravine, laden with aromatic night-scents from the orange groves. A +full moon hung in the sky, banishing many of the stars. John stood +there, with a chill wind intermittently blowing upon him. + + +There had come to him in these days, here, in the hard adventure with +kindred spirits, in the intoxication of danger and human courage, +amid all that was splendid, perhaps the more splendid for its pitiful +transience, a contentment with life. He was not maimed in the +spirit, though he had been sorely buffeted. His greatest ally was +with him, the Future. So much subservience to the omnipotent hand of +Fate had this East wrought in him, he would not rebel. If Mrs. +Graham could see him now, see the change that had quieted him, +instead of recalling the tumult of those days when he had turned to +her in his blind agony, she might wonder at the quality of his love, +at a love that surrendered and was happy in the act. + +"Muriel seems very happy," she wrote; "if I did not know I should +think she loved him deeply; they are never apart and she seems +unwearied in her service to him." But did she know? Who knew the +heart of any woman and who could apportion duty, sympathy and love? +Now he looked back, he saw that, tacitly, he and Muriel had loved, +without obstacles, without trials. From the first dawn of instinct, +from that wintry day by the copse, when unknown temptings of Nature +and boyish impulse had made him gather her into his arms, they had +followed the natural course of their early affection. For himself, +even now, he had never doubted but that the fulfilment of that first +impulse lay in his marriage to Muriel. Painfully, but frankly, he +followed the remorseless logic of the facts. It had comforted his +egotism, the eternal possessive instinct of man, to think that she +had married in a mood of pity; what if she also married for love, +suddenly awakened and all the stronger and more impetuous now it was +really awakened? + +He saw now, that throughout he had insisted upon the requital of his +love, and perhaps his dominance had won until this stronger instinct +awakened in her. He had banished all thought of her unfaithfulness, +all reproach for the blow he had suffered. That day, for the first +time, he had written to her. It had been a hard thing to do, because +he realised how kindness, understanding even, would hurt her. But it +was not possible to go through life with a barrier of silence +separating lives that had such great memories in common, when the +morning hours had been so bright for them. He had even referred to +meeting again, feeling in his heart there was nothing to forbid it; +and when he had written to Vernley, he had spoken of a "phase." The +very word hurt him as he wrote, but it was a surgery he had to +perform, and this great distance made it easier. + +Rising, he retraced his steps towards the camp. He had just entered +the shade of the grove, when something suddenly tensed his whole +being into an attitude of listening. His heart beat, and the blood +in his veins pulsed through a breathless pause. Yes, he had heard +aright. Once again on the still night air it swelled and died, the +old, never-to-be-forgotten, age-enduring drone of the _saz_, beaten +in the Turkish trenches. Listening there, alert, his face turned to +the moon-bathed valley. He was a boy again, the old impulse upon +him. As a dream, his years fell from him. This was Amasia and the +moon peered into the gorge, silvering the weirs of the old stream. +Louder and louder, changeless and potent as ever, the night air +pulsated with the immortal music of the East. He turned and went +towards it, then halted with a short laugh at the strangeness of it +all, a medley of thoughts dancing through his brain to those exotic +strains, thoughts of deserted khans, crowded bazaars, a cowering +Armenian, the tragic dumb eyes of a Turkish boy, and another boy, in +a book-lined room playing a piano. + +Then a voice suddenly cut sharply across the whispered suggestion of +the night. + +"Dean!" it rang. + +"Here--coming!" answered John, shivering with a nervous chill. He +blundered across the stubble, scratching his bare knees. The figure +of Sanderson loomed out of the darkness. + +"Good heavens, Dean, I thought you'd been kidnapped--it's twelve +o'clock and we're off at four." + +Sanderson had come up close now, and John's face shone clear and +blanched in the moonlight. Its expression alarmed the younger man. + +"I say--what's the matter?--you look hypnotised!" + +"Rubbish," John laughed uneasily. "I'm cold, that's all." + +They walked back to the tent in silence and turned in. + + + +II + +It seemed only a few minutes later that the batman awakened them in +the dark tent. Outside there was a movement of feet and voices +coming from the darkness. Hastily John and Sanderson dressed, in +warm things this time, for the morning air was very cold. All the +machines were out of the canvas hangars, lined up for the flight. +There were muffled figures and voices. The mechanics stood by; there +was an intermittent roar of an engine as it started up and died down +again. + +Sanderson climbs into his seat, John following. This first five +minutes is trying to the nerves, his fingers are cold and he shivers +slightly. They have said good-bye to the Wing Commander who has +wished them good luck. Some will not return again, but their +thoughts do not dwell on the fact. + +Sanderson turns his head and smiles. + +"All right, Dean?" he calls. + +"Yes." + +The propeller in front moves round slowly and the engine fires and +begins with a roaring noise. Now the propeller has vanished as it +gathers speed and they can see ahead, across the clearing, to the +orange groves and the blue ridge of moonlit mountains. The mechanics +are wheeling the machine round for the run down the field, the engine +is tested with them hanging on to the wings, Sanderson waves his +hands, they let go. They are off. Imperceptibly they lift from the +ground up into the cold air of the moonlit night. The grey-blue +country spreads around them. The stars have vanished with a paling +moon; to the east the silver of the dawn creeps over a black ridge. +The low flat roofs of Jaffa are dimly visible, here and there they +catch a glimpse of moonlight rippling on the sea. They are facing +the wind, but the roar of the engine is no longer audible, lulled by +the perpetuity of the sound. The coast line grows more distant as +their eyes become accustomed to the light. But dawn is breaking +rapidly. They are flying, for the present, until the enemy lines are +reached, in close formation; to the left and right, like grey birds, +soar the other aeroplanes. In a few minutes they will cross the +enemy's lines, over which they will have to deploy and run the +gauntlet of anti-aircraft fire. Their crossing is well-timed, for +dawn is advancing. + +"We're over--do you hear?" cried Sanderson. + +Far below came on the wind a familiar sound. + +_Ratatatattatatatatat!_ + +It was machine gun fire trying to find them in the darkness above. +They were flying down wind now and had lost their companions. The +altimeter registered 8,000 feet. And then suddenly the world was +transformed. From a cloud-bank the sun emerged with a triumphant +blaze of yellow light. John saw the light, like a live thing, go +streaming over the hills and valleys below, flooding in a thousand +hues the objects of day. Behind them now, to the left, Jaffa, with +its white houses, sparkled on the edge of a blue expanse of sea, +wind-furrowed. Back on the left like a dull mirror, lay the ghostly +outline of the Dead Sea, with the barren hills of Judæa. The +coloured contours leapt up below them, the brown face of the +grain-land, the grey villages, the green patches of woodland. A +silver spear shot athwart a green-gold valley, where the Jordan +twisted southwards to the Dead Sea. From the sand dunes of the coast +to the Jordan basin a series of brown scars cut the earth's face. + +"That's the last enemy line!" called Sanderson, pointing down. "They +will be about, somewhere, now," and obedient to his wish, the machine +lifted her nose and climbed to 12,000 feet. Already the change in +temperature was noticeable. John had discarded his hat and tunic and +sat in shirt sleeves, the wind blowing through his hair. They were +traversing the desolate hill-region of Lower Samaria with Nazareth, +highly situated to the West, and were now nearing the wild ravines +where they would find the Ferweh-Balata road. John's heart beat +quicker at the approach of the desperate moment. Far off, to the +north, a bright light flashed. John noticed it twice before he +called Sanderson's attention to it. + +"What is it?" asked Sanderson. "A helio?" + +"I don't know." + +Again it flashed. + +"I've got it!" cried John, putting his finger on the map. "It's the +Sea of Galilee." + +The next moment there floated up to them the sound of a dull report. + +"That's a bomb--we've found 'em! Look out, I'm going to +sweep--they're in one of these ravines. We ought to pick up the road +here." + +The wind sang down the planes as they banked and dropped, the +country-side slowly revolved as if on a disc. + +"There!" cried John, pointing to a white, ribbon-like road threading +a deep gorge. "Look--it's choked with transport!" + +An aeroplane ahead hovered like a hawk, then, as if inert, fell to +within two hundred feet of the road, dropping its bombs. + +Boom! Boom! + +There were two clouds of dust high over which the swerving aeroplane +swept. + +_Ratatatatatatatatat!_--whirred its machine gun, ere the bird of +death leapt skywards again. + +Below on the blocked road, pandemonium broke loose. The mules reared +amid a debris of destroyed wagons; some of the drivers deserted their +seats and ran up the steep hillsides looking for shelter. The +transport in front backed, the transport behind pressed forward, the +line swayed, bulged and writhed in confusion and noise. A second +aeroplane swooped and increased the panic. The road was now heaped +with dead and dying men and horses, abandoned lorries, guns, carts +and motor cars. There was no place of refuge in that pitiless gorge. + +"Are you ready?" called Sanderson. + +John's hand sought the bomb release lever. + +"Yes." + +The next moment they had nose-dived; at the bottom of the dive, +Sanderson would pull out John waited for the moment, his eye on the +bomb-sight through which the road seemed leaping up to meet them. +Suddenly, the wind caught the rigid planes as the machine pulled out +of the dive. Now! + +John saw the two bombs go, turn over, fall in the distance; then a +pause, with the air singing in their ears and-- + +Boom! Boom! + +They were now climbing joyously. Their companion, for some strange +reason, had turned to the west and was circling wide. + +"What's he doing?" asked Sanderson, but the question was answered a +moment later when three enemy aircraft, their wings black-crossed, +emerged suddenly from a cloud-bank. + +_Ratatatatatatatatat! ratatatat! ratatatatat!_ went several machine +guns. + +Sanderson turned and climbed towards the trio swooping down upon the +lonely prey. But his man[oe]uvre was seen. Two of the enemy planes +detached themselves and turned to meet the aggressor. + +"Phillips can look after himself," called Sanderson, but his optimism +changed when a fourth enemy machine came out of the clouds. It was +four to two now. Still Sanderson climbed. His machine was faster +than theirs. John saw his intention--to make an Immelmann turn and +get underneath the enemy and rake him with machine gun fire. + +At the top of the climb there was a sudden _ratatata!_ which sounded +in their ears, ominously near. It came from above them, a fifth +machine emerging from a cloud-bank, at a distance of eighty yards. +John felt a sudden buffet, as though the wind had struck him, +Sanderson's hand shot out to his gun, and there was an answering +burst of firing, full into the belly of the machine above. It fell +swiftly out of control with a wounded or dead pilot. + +"Oh, good! Good!" yelled John. + +Sanderson turned with a swift smile of triumph, ere tackling the +machine below, but his smile changed to a look of concern. + +"Dean--you're hit!" + +"Hit?" echoed John, and looked down. His shirt was wet with blood. +He plunged his hand into the open neck. A thin stream welled out +from the left breast. Yet he had felt nothing. He was about to +reassure Sanderson, when a sudden burst of firing broke on his ears. +The next moment, with a fearful roar, a machine swept over them, the +sparks from the exhaust trailing behind like a comet's tail. They +swerved, climbed, and then fell. Down they went, leaving the enemy +above; down, with an increasing roar of the wind, as they gathered +momentum. Ten thousand, nine thousand, eight thousand, louder roared +the wind, and John caught a glimpse of the country below as it leapt +to meet them. It seemed incredible that the planes could stand this +strain. Every moment he expected the machine to open up, but +Sanderson knew his work; he was safe in his hands. They were falling +still. Surely only three thousand feet now? Wasn't Sanderson +cutting it rather fine. He could see his head in front, familiar and +reassuring. Two thousand! + +"Sanderson!" John called. He had no right to, of course, but +something impelled him. The roar of the wind carried his voice away. + +"Sanderson!" + +Loud, this time, yet the head of the pilot did not move. + +"Sanderson!" screamed John. + +A sudden swerve, and the machine shuddered from wing tip to tail. He +Was pulling out at last. No! they falling again. John stretched +forward, dizzy now with loss of blood. + +"Sander--" + +The cry was unfinished. Sanderson lay with his head inert on the +side of the fuselage. They were out of control! Faint, John fell +back; the wind screamed in his ears as they swept to earth. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +An hour before sunset, a group of Arab horsemen came over the scrubby +hillocks, following the indistinct route worn by mules, which led, +five miles to the north, to the main route to Damascus. Their horses +were tired, for they had been hard pressed, and on the faces of the +riders something of the panic of the early morning was still visible. +They were alive, indeed, and fortunate in the fact, for hundreds had +fallen in that dreadful massacre in the gorge. Picturesque they +were, in an assorted fashion, but as soldiers they were not +impressive, dressed in ragged gowns and dirty head-dresses, their +beards untrimmed. More like a band of brigands, than a part of the +routed 7th Turkish Army, they rode in disorder. The level sunlight +flashed on the strange weapons stuck in their belts, ivory-handled +knives, murderously long, revolvers of an obsolete fashion and +pistols with heavy ebony handles. The young officer in command of +them could ill-conceal his contempt of this rabble, and watched them +with a cautious eye, knowing that they would as readily plunge their +knives into him as into that of any luckless traveller. Accompanied +by four juniors he rode behind, saddle-sore and depressed. + +A cry at his side made him look up. His sergeant was pointing to +something in the ravine below. Half a dozen Arabs had broken away +from the column and were racing down the rocky steep to reach the +plunder. The officer shaded his eyes from the glare of the sun. The +stark outline of a shattered fuselage reared up on end from a twisted +mass of machinery. A broken wing lay twenty yards apart, It was no +unfamiliar sight, this, of a crashed aeroplane. He made no effort to +recall the Arabs, for his command would be ignored. The possibility +of plunder shattered all discipline. Contemptuously he reined up his +horse on the hillock and waited. The transport halted behind them; +even in retreat they disliked hurry. + +"There's nothing left, I'm sure--it's a bad crash," said the officer, +surveying the twisted frame-work through his glasses. "The engine's +half buried--poor devil!" + +The Arabs had soon finished their inspection, and with disappointment +were riding back, all but two, who suddenly turned aside and +dismounted. + +"Why don't they come?" asked the young Turk, turning to his sergeant. +"Go--hurry them up--I will not wait." + +The sergeant detached himself, his horse carefully testing its way +down the steep. The officer gave the command to march, the column +jogged forward in disorderly fashion, the transport drivers behind +cracked their whips and swore at the jaded mules, the cloud of dust +rose again on their trail along the barren hills. They had not gone +a mile ahead when the sergeant overtook the commandant again. + +"It was a body--they'd stripped him, but I made them give up these +papers in his pocket, and this." + +He handed a pocket book, some envelopes and a thin chain to the +officer. On the end of the chain a pendant swung and glinted in the +sunset. The officer examined it before looking at the papers. A +thin strand of hair, brown hair, was tied round the link that held +the frame in which an oval moonstone was set. On one side there was +a minute engraving of an eye, on the other, one word, in Turkish, +"Kismet." + +For a long moment, the young officer spoke no word as he held the +stone in his hand. The sergeant waited. As they stood, the +transport column filed past them, lorries and guns, and all the +impedimenta of an army in retreat. The men were badly shod, their +uniforms ragged. They were ill-fed and half rebellious, but the +enemy were sweeping up behind and safety lay ahead; only the impulse +for safety spurred their flagging spirits. + +"Where was the body?" asked the Turk, without apparent interest. + +"About twenty yards from the aeroplane, sir." + +"The other--there were two?" + +"Yes, sir, the pilot probably--the machine fired and there's little +left." + +The end of the column was in sight now. The sergeant turned his +horse as if to join the line, but his officer did not move. The last +lorry lumbered by in a cloud of dust. + +"I will have a look at this machine, it may tell us something," said +the officer, turning his horse. The sergeant followed. + +"No," he said, sharply. "You go on--I will overtake you in a few +minutes." + +"Yes, sir." The man saluted and rode off after the cloud of dust. +The lonely horseman waited. Quiet was settling down in the hills +again. The next transport column would be an hour's march away yet; +it would be dusk ere they arrived. Spurring his horse, he went back +along the rutted road until the ravine with the crashed aeroplane at +the bottom came into sight. Dismounting, he tethered his horse by +the path and made his way slowly down the slope, still holding in his +right hand the talisman taken from the dead Englishman. If what he +feared was true it was a strange meeting after these many years. +Kismet indeed! + +He had reached the bottom of the slope now, dusty and shaken by his +swift descent. It was dusk already in the ravine and the level rays +of the sunset were gilding the ridges of the hills above. He +shivered in the cool shade, and the silence grew oppressive. The +call of a jackal came from a thicket near by, a horrible, +blood-chilling whine. He stumbled. The light would be gone if he +did not hurry. + +He could see the object he sought, a small patch on the ground ahead; +breaking into a run, he approached the naked body of the dead man. +Those bandits had stripped him, and he lay stretched out, his set +face turned to the sky. Two birds took sudden flight at the approach +of the man, and rose with a whirr of large black wings, sinister and +sickening to the sight in their repulsive portent. + +Flinging himself to his knees, he bent over the slim body lying so +inert. For a few moments he had no courage to look into the face. +Beautiful, he lay in death, like a perfect figure of marble,--the +whiteness only broken on the left breast, bloody and scarred. Had +the miscreants murdered him in their plundering? No, for this thin +stream of blood from the wound had dried long ago. + +Bending forward, the living face looked on the dead, and in that +moment of recognition a sharp cry of pain broke on the desert hush. +Gathering him up in his arms, he pressed the lifeless body to his +breast. + +"Oh, John effendi! Oh, John effendi!" he sobbed, brushing back the +hair from the brow of the dead man. + +"See, I have our token and thou wast faithful, John effendi! Great +brother of my heart, what woe is come upon us! Dost thou not hear +me? 'Tis I, Ali, thy friend of boyhood's days. O thou unfortunate +one! Unhappy the servant of Allah, that these eyes thus behold thee, +most beloved brother of my soul, John effendi! Oh, John effendi!" + +He bent over the lifeless form, peering into the unclosed eyes of the +dead man as if he would read therein some words of recognition, of +greeting. He had not changed, this friend of happy days by Yeshil +Irmak's singing waters. The face that had faded in distance from the +fountain at Amasia was this face of death found in the desert, and +the years had scarcely touched it, perhaps only to make it sterner, +more handsome. Great was the will of Allah to bring them together +again across the ways of the world. Thus had he beheld him on the +hill on that last day of parting when the night crept over the gorge +at Amasia; night crept on now, night with its stillness and its +stars, and he could not go hence again. Brothers in life they were, +were they not brothers in death; were not their feet wedded to the +same great adventure? + +With his handkerchief he wiped the sand and blood from the face of +the dead man, smoothed the bruised brow. Beautiful he was, in this +hour of meeting. + +"O John effendi," he cried, pressing his mouth to the cold brow. +"Our footsteps have gone out upon the dusty way and we are met again. +Allah in his greatness willed it so!" + +The darkness of night gathered about the living and the dead. Above, +the brazen dome held the last flush of day. In the cool east a few +stars came on the flood of darkness. From hill-top to hill-top the +greyness crept and the valleys filled with shadow. The moon, low on +the dark horizon, brightened; the timorous stars spangled the +heavenly way with bright battalions. The hill ridges, black in the +sunset, softened and sank in the encroaching tide of night. + +Such silence, such peace, such coolness after the noisy, parching +day! Foolish man, fretful with his bewildering schemes, his fears +and frenzy, his comings and goings over the face of the indifferent +earth--all, all engulfed in the enduring silence. And for the end of +all--this beneficent peace. + +But no, even now, the hush is broken. Out of the darkness it comes, +mysterious, stirring, portentous,--the sound of a thousand years, the +low insistent droning of a drum. Listening, the living hears its +mournful, suggestive music, even as he heard it in the khans at +Amasia. It rises, it falls, undulating. And if the dead hear, then +is the call familiar,--the call of a far-off night, when, under +almond blossom, a little white figure, dream-impelled, stepped +towards the moonlit stream. + +Nearer it comes, nearer, nearer. The night winds bear it afar down +the ravine; it is the music of war, the music of a thousand +conquerors marching in brief glory out to the silence of death. + +Gently the living man lowers the dead from his arms. He rises to his +feet, solitary and minute under the inquisition of the stars. The +tethered horse on the highway stirs and whinnies. The transport +column comes winding along the road of retreat. Nearer now, sound +the drums; soon the riderless horse will be found. + +Suddenly, shattering the night, a shot rings out, doing violence to +the quiet of the valley. The echo ricochets from hill-top to +hill-top and faintly dies in the distance. The deep hush flows +again, the eddies of sound fade out on the pool of silence. Over the +grey crest of the eastern hills the moon climbs, pouring its light +into the ravine. A jackal cries and slinks away among the scrub; and +again, the insistent calling of a drum. + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75969 *** |