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diff --git a/78836-h/78836-h.htm b/78836-h/78836-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f2e444 --- /dev/null +++ b/78836-h/78836-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,22529 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + +<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + +<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Awakening, by Maud Diver +</title> + +<style> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 1.5em } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 2em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.intro {font-size: 90% ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.intro2 {font-size: 85% ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.report {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</style> + +</head> + + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78836 ***</div> + + +<h1> +<br><br> + AWAKENING<br> +</h1> + +<p class="t3b"> + A STUDY IN POSSIBILITIES<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t2"> + MAUD DIVER<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="poem"> + "To hold by leaving; to take by letting go,<br> + Leaving and again leaving, and ever leaving go of the<br> + surface of things;<br> + So taking the heart of them along with us—<br> + This is the law."<br> + EDWARD CARPENTER<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + NEW YORK<br> + DODD, MEAD & COMPANY<br> + 1922<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY<br> + DODD, MEAD & COMPANY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + PRINTED IN U.S.A.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + TO YOU<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + Who have always sympathized,<br> + Always believed, always understood,<br> + I dedicate this book.<br> + M. D.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + "There is a collaboration loftier and more real than<br> + that of pen. It is the collaboration of thought and<br> + example."—MAETERLINCK. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + BY THE SAME AUTHOR<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CAPTAIN DESMOND, V.C.<br> + THE GREAT AMULET<br> + CANDLES IN THE WIND<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +BOOK I. <a href="#chap0101">THE SEED</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +BOOK II. <a href="#chap0201">THE BLOSSOMING</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +BOOK III. <a href="#chap0301">THE FRUIT</a> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0101"></a></p> + +<h2> +BOOK I +<br> +THE SEED +</h2> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +AWAKENING +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER I +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "I stay my haste, I make delays,<br> + For what avails the eager pace?<br> + I stand amid eternal ways—<br> + And what is mine shall know my face."<br> + BURROUGHS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Where on earth did she spring from? And who, +in the name of all that's exquisite, can she be?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil Sinclair asked himself the question, with quite a +keen touch of curiosity, as he sat idly smoking under the +araucarias that front the Cap d'Antibes Hotel. A slim, +clean-cut figure of a man, with long sensitive hands, a +mobile face, and thoughtful eyes where a smile lurked +always like a beam of light. He looked round in search of +information. But no one was at hand to enlighten him, +and his gaze reverted to the vision on the corner balcony; +a vision unusual as it was arresting to an artist's eye and +brain. +</p> + +<p> +The olive skin faintly aglow, the velvet darkness of eyes +that brooded upon sky and sea, were framed in a gold-bordered +<i>sari</i>, pale as an evening primrose, that half veiled +without hiding the sweet seriousness of the girl's face. +These, and her aloofness from the chattering tea-drinkers +in the verandah below, conspired to give her an alluring +air of unreality; and her purely Eastern stillness, in that +temple of unrest, a Riviera hotel, enhanced the effect. +</p> + +<p> +Sinclair had leisure to approve the delicate curves of +brow and cheek and nostril, the slender symmetry of the +hand and arm resting on the balcony's ledge, the classic +poise and outline of the veiled head. For all the gravity +of her eyes, a hint of passion in the ripe lower lip, and of +wilfulness in the round chin that matched it, promised +just those varying elements of light and shade that would +some day make her all a woman. At present she seemed +little more than a sheaf of possibilities; a bud half open +awaiting the strong kiss of the sun. And behind her +loomed the wide, white façade of the Hotel du Cap, +uncompromisingly square and solid; as it were the House of +Life with its hundred rooms, and hundred complications, +old as the sea, yet eternally changeful as the myriad waves +thereof. +</p> + +<p> +Sinclair had dallied with love in more than one form, +even as he had dallied with art and life; reaching the core +of none. But art had lured him farthest; and he saw this +child of an alien race rather as a possible picture than a +possible woman. Her absorption tempted him: so also did the +sketch-book on his knee. He opened it, and paused—looking +upward. The thrill of inspiration was on him: a +visitation too rare, too imperative to be ignored. There was +also the insidious joy of yielding to temptation. Out came +the pencil, and he went swiftly and skilfully to work. +Naturally she moved the moment stillness was essential. +But it was only to set an open book upon the ledge and +give him an instant's fuller vision of her face. Then, her +cheek lightly resting on her hand, she fell into a pose more +lasting, more enchanting than before. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye gods! I'm in luck!" the Englishman muttered; +and worked on. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly the sun dipped behind the araucarias and the +lofty blue gums, with their slender, listless leaves. Slowly +the shadows engulfed the gravel path. The militant +snortings and puffings of motors, that bore away chance +visitors, sounded faint and fainter in the deepening quiet, +and the chatter of tea-drinkers was hushed. Those that +were not chance visitors took unto themselves books, +work-bags, shawls, and strolled down the wide, tree-bordered +road to the coast line of tumbled rock that gleamed, +grey-white, against the blue enchantment of the Mediterranean. +The Princess from the Arabian Nights watched them, as +they went, with eyes that questioned and wondered and +dreamed. Then she reverted to her book; and Sinclair to +his sketch. +</p> + +<p> +Slight though it was, instinct told him that—in years of +promising and even distinguished amateur work—he had +never come so near to "the real thing." Be she Princess or +Peri, by some means he must get speech of her, and win +leave to convert his sketch into the picture—long dreamed +of yet never achieved—that should prove him indisputably +an artist, and bring home to the father, who would fain +have him a politician, the futility of trying to force a square +peg into a round hole. +</p> + +<p> +He had left England mainly to escape a political "gathering," +organized for his benefit at the country house of an +elder sister. Lady Roscoe, wife and daughter of politicians, +lived and moved and had her being in the strenuous +atmosphere of party politics. "More party than politics," +Nevil averred—but not in her hearing. Like her father, +she could appraise pictures, books, music intelligently +enough; could even enjoy them in the rare moments when +she was socially and politically "off-duty." And, like her +father, she had a tendency to scorn the creators of these +superfluous delights. It was a case of "music and pictures +must needs come. But woe unto him through whom +they come." Authors she could condone, provided they +were not poets and had achieved material success. +Journalists she almost venerated. Without them where would +be the newspapers that were her daily bread? Such were +her views in regard to ordinary mortals. But that a +Sinclair, and an eldest son to boot, should associate +himself professionally with anything of the kind was an +innovation against which she set her typically Sinclair face like +a rock. +</p> + +<p> +The Sinclair men—and a distinguished line of them +stretched backward through a score of generations—had +so far been singularly free from such vagrant impulses. But +family traditions, however sacrosanct, are lamentably at the +mercy of individual impulse; and a woman of poetic temperament +had cast her spell upon Nevil's father, the present +Sir George, luring him from sage consideration of Sinclairs +to come. Such, at least, was Lady Roscoe's version of the +matter. Any other had seemed to impugn the wisdom of the +man in whose image she herself was made. She preferred +to shift the burden of responsibility on to Lady Sinclair, +who had been gone long enough to be exempted from the +kindly fiction that the dead can do no wrong. +</p> + +<p> +Yet wrong or no, she had seriously inconvenienced the +house of Sinclair by bestowing her own name and nature +upon the first man child she had gotten from the Lord. +On him, too, she had expended her repressed genius +for devotion—as little understanded of her husband as +any other form of genius. For nine years the boy had +been hers, body and soul, and in those years the man was +made. Not all the after influences of school and life could +efface the stamp of her personality on the child she had so +loved. But Nevil had a streak of Sinclair in him also. +Hence complications. Fondness for his father and dominant +elder sister made him shrink from disappointing them; +while he shrank, yet more, from the path worked out for +him by tradition, and by ambitions that were not his own. +</p> + +<p> +So it came about that Lady Roscoe's letter of a week +ago, hinting at a house-party that might prove profitable +in view of the General Election looming ahead, had +spurred her refractory brother in quite the wrong direction. +Scenting fresh schemes for his political salvation, +he had wired straightway for his favourite room in +the Cap Hotel, and had fled to the South of France, +on the wings of an express, to paint Antibes sunsets, and +possibly Italian fishermen; and, if the Muse were kind, add +a few poems to the small volume he had in hand. The +kindness of the Muse had taken a form quite other than he +sought; for the which he blessed her fervently, while the +sketch grew under his hand and inspiration fluttered +nebulous wings in his brain. +</p> + +<p> +"By Gad—it's not half bad!" he muttered, surveying +it at length, with a rare glow of satisfaction. "Martino +shall see it—to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +Then, from the tail of his eye, he discerned a slim grey +figure at the foot of the wide steps; he looked round, +started, and sprang up, hastily pocketing his treasure. The +girl in grey started and quickened her pace. But she was +not of the type that scurries. She merely took a longer +stride that accentuated her boyish straightness and +suppleness of limb. +</p> + +<p> +Sinclair greeted her impulsively. "Why, Miss Hammond! +You back again, too, at the dear old 'Cap'? What +luck!" +</p> + +<p> +She smiled upon him frankly with clear eyes, almost as +grey as her dress, and, being observant, he noticed that her +hand had grown harder to the touch since he held it last. +</p> + +<p> +"It used not to be 'Miss Hammond' in the old days," +she said as they sat down. "I am still Audrey—to my +friends." +</p> + +<p> +"Audrey, then—by all means! I didn't dare, at first +sight. We have grown up so aggressively since then. And +you've been doing great things in India, I suppose—doctoring, +riding, dancing?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a great deal of the last," she answered cheerfully. +"As a rule, I felt too done up by the evening. Hyderabad +isn't exactly bracing; and my life out there was a very full +one." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!"—a shadow of envy lurked in his tone. "And +mine, at home, has been quite the reverse. I often thought +of you, and your progressive schemes, and wondered whether +doctoring zenana ladies had modified your advanced views +on the Woman Question, or whether you had fired them +with a craving for the Suffrage—or its Eastern equivalent!" +</p> + +<p> +Audrey Hammond laughed outright. "How little you +know of me or of them, poor dears, to imagine either! My +own views have not retreated one inch; and as for them—well, +I did more than doctor them. I taught a few, and +helped—in other ways, when the chance offered. Rather +like trying to alter a coast line by shifting pebbles on the +shore. Still—one may have done <i>some</i> good; let a little +light into their custom-ridden souls. But I won't tax your +good-nature by boring you with such things——" +</p> + +<p> +"Which means that they are too sacred to be discussed +with a mere man; even an old friend who has come within +sight of the thirtieth milestone since we lazed and argued +on this enchanted headland four years ago." +</p> + +<p> +"And has not yet achieved a seat in Parliament, or a +picture on the line?" she queried, slipping past the point at +issue with the self-possessed ease of her type. +</p> + +<p> +"Neither," said he, and opened his silver cigarette case as +one in search of consolation. "The good old man at home +is still hopeful. Jane, the indefatigable, will not suffer the +temples of her head to take any rest till she has cajoled me +into swallowing the gilded political pill. But the failure of +the family remains where you left him——" He paused to +light his cigarette, and the girl scanned his well-remembered +face and figure with kindly critical eyes, that, like her hands, +were a trifle too hard for her years. +</p> + +<p> +Her silence was more pregnant than speech; and he +looked up again quickly with a disarming smile. +</p> + +<p> +"You disapprove, of course. We never did agree about +things, did we? Which was just why we couldn't resist +discussing them! I'm not 'indifferent to my country's +welfare,' as Jane assures me in her most parliamentary voice. +The larger issues interest me enormously. But minor details +of legislation weary me to death; and I confess I feel no +serious call to take an active part in 'the savage wars of +peace' that can be waged very effectually without my +luke-warm assistance!" +</p> + +<p> +She smiled in spite of disapproval. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you ever in all these years felt a serious call of +any kind?" +</p> + +<p> +"Frankly, I can't say I have," he confessed without +shame; the twinkle deepening in his eyes. "Too many-sided, +perhaps; or too little call to exert myself. That's the +curse of the ready-made income, plus family records! But +I've not been altogether idle while you tried to hustle the +East. I've written a fair sheaf of essays and verses; painted +a few decent pictures, read widely and knocked round +Europe with my eyes open——" +</p> + +<p> +She waved aside his list of mild "achievements." +</p> + +<p> +"Mere dilettantism! In a world full of work worth +doing, and wrongs crying out to be set right!" +</p> + +<p> +"Hear, hear!" he applauded, with his most imperturbable +smile. "Spoken like the 'Minerva' of old times! +Study the 'Apology for Idlers,' Audrey. That's my credo—if +I have one. After all, there must be a few of us, if +only to keep the balance of things. And since a million or +so of women have waxed strenuous or nothing, what can the +superfluous male do but sit mutely admiring and look on!" +</p> + +<p> +"A rôle for which he gets finely trained at school—watching +cricket and football!" she retorted with a touch +of heat. +</p> + +<p> +"Yet even there I seem to remember that now and then +he gets out into the field and kicks or slogs the ball to good +purpose. Some day, even I may get out into the field too, +when I really discover a ball worth kicking, or a game worth +playing." +</p> + +<p> +"You call yourself an artist and talk so——" +</p> + +<p> +"Pardon me. I call myself a double-distilled amateur." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh—you are as exasperating as ever!—I mean—you +care for your art. At least—I thought——" +</p> + +<p> +"So did I, worse luck! But the Fates must have +quarrelled badly when I was born, so that all my threads +came out tangled. And they had not even the grace to +endow me with a gift for unravelling tangles; or with enough +selfishness to go my own way in spite of my dear old +father's prejudices. For him, my art is 'futile piffle'; +a decorative hobby that has helped to keep me out of mischief—or +so he believes. For me, it is the one thing on earth +that might have been worth doing; would have been if—if +my mother had lived——" +</p> + +<p> +She turned on him—rebellious and decisive. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be weak-minded and shift the responsibility. If +it would have been, it <i>is</i>, still." +</p> + +<p> +"You forgot the long apprenticeship, the great gulf that +divides the artist from the amateur. If my spell in the +<i>Quartier Latin</i> taught me nothing else, it taught me that." +</p> + +<p> +"You could go there again—why not?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, for a score of reasons. And I'm almost too old +for it now. Every idle year that slips by puts achievement +farther out of reach. Inspiration grows rarer. Which +reminds me—you interrupted one just now." And he +glanced towards the balcony, fearful lest his vision had fled. +</p> + +<p> +No. She had merely deserted her book, and leaned over +the parapet watching them with absorbed eyes. Then, as +Audrey Hammond looked up also, she smiled and waved her +hand. +</p> + +<p> +"You know her?" Nevil cried eagerly, and Miss Hammond's +brows went up ever so little. +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, I know her. I am more than half responsible +for her being here. And was she responsible—for the +inspiration?" +</p> + +<p> +A faint change of tone checked the artist's impulse to +produce his work; and he merely answered: "Yes. I was +trying to make a sketch of her when you came up." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Hammond frowned. "That was a mistake. I am +glad I interrupted. They would hate the idea." +</p> + +<p> +"And who are they?" +</p> + +<p> +"She and her father—a high-caste, cultivated Hindu +gentleman. I came home with them." +</p> + +<p> +"But when did you arrive? That should have been my +first question! Just like us to plunge headlong into an +argument without playing How, When, and Where? I +never saw you at dinner last night." +</p> + +<p> +"No. We are wealthy and exclusive! We have private +rooms and feed upstairs. The daughter is the one tangible, +practical result of my three years' crusade. She has been +plucky enough to break through the hampering laws of +purdah and caste; and is still rather shy and bewildered +with it all. But at least she is here, studying medicine, +under my guidance—for the present." +</p> + +<p> +"Studying medicine! That beautiful child——" +</p> + +<p> +The masculine implication annoyed her. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, why not? Because she is beautiful, or because +she is a child?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, a little of both. Of course, I am an ignoramus +about such matters, and you're quite the reverse, +only——" He glanced again at the embryo student of medicine. +His vague recoil from the idea did not readily phrase itself +under the quiet challenge of Audrey's grey eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the rest of the programme?" he ended lamely. +"The final goal in view?" +</p> + +<p> +"You are really interested?" +</p> + +<p> +"Immensely. Catholic tastes breed catholic interests. +Call it dilettantism if you choose. Well?" +</p> + +<p> +"My hope is, of course, that when I have put her in the +way of things, she will go to college and take a degree. +Then she will go back to India—and move mountains! +Her loss of caste can be restored by ceremonies of purification; +and she will do greater things for her self-restricted +sisters in a few years than I could do in a lifetime. The +more one sees of Indian life behind the scenes, the more one +realizes that the ideals and aspirations of the West can only +be instilled into Easterns <i>by</i> Easterns—not by foreigners. +One can only hope to make some impression on units, and +trust them to carry on the larger work." +</p> + +<p> +A rare glow of enthusiasm transfigured her face; she +looked almost beautiful. Nevil, though still unconvinced, +felt a sudden pang of envy. This was the quality he lacked; +this, and the invisible assurance that vibrated in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the Princess, who would be a doctor, +left the balcony. Both followed her with their eyes. Then +Nevil spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"And has she caught fire from your zeal?" he asked +half anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Only in part, so far. But once her foot is on the ladder, +that will come. It was her own wish, and I believe she +will carry it through. They have a fund of character and +courage that would surprise you—those gentle, dreamy-looking +Indian girls who have seen nothing of life outside +their own walls. But I must go up now. Lilamani may be +wanting me." +</p> + +<p> +"Lila—how much?" +</p> + +<p> +"Lee-la-mun-nee," Audrey said slowly; and he, repeating +it after her: "Was there ever a more musical +name? The lilt and the rhythm of it. I hope it has a +meaning to match." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know about matching! <i>Mani</i> is jewel, and +<i>lila</i> Sanskrit for delight." +</p> + +<p> +"Jewel of Delight," he mused aloud; and she, with her +practical briskness: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Rather too fanciful, isn't it? Eastern names are +apt to be.—Well, good-bye till to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +"Why not to-night? Do they never come down?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not in the evening; at least, not as yet. Lilamani is +still ridiculously shy. <i>I</i> should insist. But her father says +'not till she wishes it herself.' He spoils her; idolizes her. +When he is gone, I shall have a better chance." +</p> + +<p> +"Well—introduce me, will you, when they do come +down. New types are interesting." +</p> + +<p> +Thought of his unfinished sketch imparted a veiled +eagerness to the casual request; and Audrey, noting it, +smiled her inscrutable smile, that too rarely invaded her +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Lakshman Singh often comes down, and is very well +worth talking to," said she. "As a young man he spent +several years at home; studied at Cambridge, I think. +And though he still remains within the pale of Hinduism, +his whole view of life is admirably sane and broad. The +girl has mainly been taught by him. But with all her free +and fearless mental outlook, her actual emancipation is still +not much more than skin deep; and being a well-bred +Hindu girl she naturally shrinks from promiscuous talk with +strangers, especially men——" +</p> + +<p> +"Surely—as an old friend of yours—I might be privileged." +</p> + +<p> +"Possibly. We'll see. But, Nevil, you must tear up +your sketch." +</p> + +<p> +He started visibly. "Great Scott—that's a pretty cool +request. And why on earth——" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, for a dozen reasons. I told you they would hate +the idea; and 'one can't spend the day in explanations,'" +she quoted with a little nod of friendly decision. "It's +really very nice to find you here again. <i>Au revoir</i>." +</p> + +<p> +She ran lightly up the steps into the wide hall; and +Sinclair stood looking after her in a mixed frame of +mind—expectant, interested, yet vaguely annoyed. He liked her +greatly; always had done. He had felt a real glow of +pleasure in meeting her again. He admired her pluck, her +single-mindedness, her unobtrusive strength; all of which +had been emphasized by four years at grips with stern +realities. In those four years she seemed to have grown +older than he; had done so, in fact, since the soul's calendar +is measured by acting and doing, rather than by months and +days. +</p> + +<p> +Yes. He admired her as much as ever. But he did not +approve her scheme for conjuring a lady doctor out of an +Arabian Night's Princess; and no word of hers should induce +him to destroy his latest-born—his gift flung straight from +heaven; earnest of greater things to come. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0102"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER II +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + The new hath come, and now the old retires:—<br> + And now the soul stands in a vague, intense<br> + Expectancy and anguish of suspense,<br> + On the dim chamber threshold....—SAROJINI NAIDU.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Tired of studying, my pale lotus-bud? No need yet +to do too much. We are here for rest!" +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman Singh put out a welcoming hand and drew +his daughter towards him. A creature of infinite grace she +seemed in her primrose-pale dress and <i>sari</i>, that clashed +oddly with the setting of a modern hotel sitting-room. +Not tall; though her slenderness and uprightness, as of a +young palm, gave an illusion of height, and her movements +had the leisured, rhythmic quality that comes to +fullest flower in the East. +</p> + +<p> +Now she crouched kneeling, with a small, glad sigh, by +the great arm-chair in which her father sat; his own light +English suit and jade-green turban aptly symbolic of the +dissonance within. At the meeting of their eyes soul spoke +plainly to soul: too plainly for the man's peace of mind. +He, like Sinclair, had his doubts about the scheme, +accepted by him as the one way out of an <i>impasse</i>, typical of +India as she is to-day. +</p> + +<p> +His wife, orthodox to the bone, had rebelled fiercely +against the Anglicizing of even one daughter out of three. +But for a time the will of her husband had prevailed. +The child had been his own, to make or mar, till the +question of betrothal could no longer be deferred. Then +did outraged orthodoxy assert itself with power. For +there be two autocrats in the Hindu home: the mother +and the family Guru; the holy man, who carries good or ill +in the hollow of his hand. These, between them, had +discovered a bridegroom, elderly and dissolute but wealthy +and of unimpeachable caste; a sinner rigidly conservative, +whose eagle-nosed mother might be trusted to reclaim a +spoilt daughter-in-law and cure her of new-fangled follies. +Reports of Lilamani's beauty fired the bridegroom to +impatience; and the matter was formally set on foot. +</p> + +<p> +But they reckoned without the daughter of new India, +and the blood of Rajput fighters in her veins. Lilamani—proud, +wilful, and lightly disciplined—would have none of +him; and her father, after heart-searchings and vain pleading +with the autocrats, had refused his consent. Followed +a slow, implacable battle of wills, till the girl's health gave +way under the strain, and Lakshman Singh, distraught with +anxiety, had insisted upon calling in Miss Hammond—caste +or no. It was then that Audrey had seen her chance of +enlisting an Eastern recruit. Why should the girl marry +at all? Why not complete her unorthodox education by +studying medicine at home, and returning, in due time, to +help those who were so pitifully unable to help themselves? +It was a daring suggestion: but Sir Lakshman had caught +at it, as a drowning man at a straw. To Lilamani—bruised +and broken from the storm—it seemed as if a gate +had been opened into Paradise. And Audrey Hammond +had her way. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it had come about that at last—in the teeth of +stormy reproaches and bitter opposition—the three peaceful-looking +rebels had set sail for France and the sun-smitten +headland where Audrey herself had recruited after hospital +training. Such heroic snapping of chains is still +comparatively rare among high-caste Hindu women; and Lakshman +Singh—for all his admiration of the best in English +thought and life—felt not a little anxious as to the ultimate +fate of this daughter, who was in truth as well as in +name his Jewel of Delight. In the beginning it was much +that health and gladness once more had their home in her +cheeks and eyes. For the rest, he was content to wait, and +watch the confluence of her clear spirit with the complex +spirit of the West. And at least they were together +without let or hindrance: which sufficed. +</p> + +<p> +He slipped an arm round her crouching form; and she, +with the light laugh of a child, leaned nearer, one tapering +finger at her lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Breathe it not to Audrey, father mine. But all +thought of study has been far from me. The book she +lent me had ugly words in it; and in all this loveliness they +seemed to hurt my mind, even as an ink-blot on my <i>sari</i> +would hurt my eyes." Slipping her fingers beneath a +gold-flecked corner, she regarded it with grave tenderness, then +turned to him again, her sensitive face alight. "Oh, +father—how it is beautiful, the way of the sun upon the sea! As +if for very love, he had flung himself into the deep blue +heart of it; and the sea godlings had bewitched him into a +million golden butterflies with tireless wings that yet +cannot bear them aloft——" +</p> + +<p> +"And was that the sum total of your studies, child of +learning?" the man asked, smiling at the quaint conceit. +"Was there not a book also? Twice I passed under your +balcony. But you never looked up, nor even turned the +leaf; and I thought I would speak to Miss Hammond that +until you were stronger she should not press you too hard." +</p> + +<p> +"Kindest! It is true there was a book. But not hers. +The way of the brain had wearied me. So I followed +instead the way of my own heart—and I was happy." +</p> + +<p> +"That is always good hearing," spoke the father, whose +idolatry stood in Audrey Hammond's light. "Yet, +remember, Light of my Life, the way of the heart too seldom +winds up the hill of achievement." +</p> + +<p> +"It is the way of all true women, none the less," +answered she of seventeen summers with a low-toned passion +of conviction, that was in itself a tragedy, seeing that her +own feet were set upon a stonier path. +</p> + +<p> +Words and tones smote the father's heart. Bending his +head to hers, he spoke softly in his own tongue. "Lilamani, +dost repent?" +</p> + +<p> +And she, in the same tongue, while sudden tears pricked +her eyeballs: "Nay. I chose the lesser of two evils, and—I +look not back. That is for weaklings: not for the daughter +of Lakshman Singh. But—if there might have been +talk of another bridegroom——" +</p> + +<p> +"Child, child—that I feared. I spoke of it to thy +mother. But thou knowest how it is. When a woman and +a priest are agreed not even Durga the Ten-handed can +prevail against them. Moreover——" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—I know—I know——" And now it was upon +his lips that her light hand was laid. "Of what avail to +speak? There was no help but this; and I have peace and +freedom and <i>thee</i>. Enough of trouble——" She waved +it aside as if an actual presence shadowed her, and her +sudden relapse into English had the effect of a snapped thread. +"Better a hundred times to talk of the sun and the sea and +of my deep, deep studies! Look!" She drew from under +her drapery a small volume bound in fawn and gold. +"What would Audrey say? No dusty book about cobwebs +in the House of Life and how to brush them away. But +my wonder-woman of India—Cornelia Sorabji! Her +words are never ugly. Even upon the hard way of the +brains she makes flowers peep between the stones. And why +I did not turn the leaf was because I was reading—no, +dreaming—over and over, the words of her 'Wise Man, +Truth-Named,' when he tried to make 'a clearing in the +jungle' where they two might sit and speak of 'the +big-little things.'" +</p> + +<p> +He smiled at her young enthusiasm, her musical flow +of speech. +</p> + +<p> +"What words, child? I have forgot. There are too +many words in these days, when the wayside fountains run +ink; and the mills grind out books for flour, so that a man's +brain cannot hold a tithe of all that passes through it. +But the big-little things are always good to remember. +Show me——" +</p> + +<p> +"No need to show. I have it all here," touching her +forehead, "in letters of gold upon a scroll of blue." And +closing her eyes, "the better to read," she spoke, half in +recitative, with the grave simplicity of a child praying at its +mother's knee. +</p> + +<p> +"'God! By what sign shall we know him? How conceive? +Imagine only light and light and light, everywhere +pulsing, throbbing. From the beginning was that and only +that; and that was God. But with God exists the power +and mercy of God; not separate; but as closely allied as +... the scent of the rose to the rose, as the colour of +a flower to the flower. Men talk of one God, as if there +could be two or three. There is just God—the All-pervading, +the heart of the heart of Beauty, the great first +Flame which lights every flame that leaps into life. +Light and light and light; brilliance at the soul of +brilliance ... the God-spark in every soul, in everything +created ... only by recognizing this shall we recognize +God. There is no other way!'" Then, lifting her +gaze to his, she added, still softly, but in the tone of every +day: "And the Wise Man says also: if we do not keep our +windows clean, and the light cannot get through—is that +the fault of the flame? Was he not rightly 'Truth-Named'?" +</p> + +<p> +Her father's answer showed in his eyes, while his hand +caressed her brow. +</p> + +<p> +"So small a casket to hold such great thoughts," said +he. For being a man—even though of the religion-breathing +East—he could not readily speak of such things. +</p> + +<p> +Then they started, almost as if they had been lovers. +For there was a hand upon the door. +</p> + +<p> +It proved to be Kali Das—faithful through all vicissitudes, +even unto loss of caste; and he brought the Indian +mail, the second since their coming. It was a day early, +and Lilamani caught her breath at sight of the thin envelopes. +A little ache of home-sickness contracted her heart, +not for the first time. Lakshman Singh, being a man of +note in Hyderabad, had much official correspondence. But +there was only one envelope out of half a dozen that really +mattered—to them both. +</p> + +<p> +In a silence eager, yet anxious, they explored its contents—a +long letter from Ram Singh, eldest son and brother, +and a short one in laboured English from fourteen-year-old +Vimala, smuggled doubtless without her mother's knowledge. +A quaint, childish effusion it was. The small writer +hovered incoherently between envy at her sister's daring, a +pretty self-importance at her own recent betrothal to an +unknown fairy prince; in her case, happily, a young one. +Lilamani smiled as she read, and was glad, though a +needle-pointed arrow pricked her heart. She also envied. It is +the way of life. +</p> + +<p> +Then she glanced at her father, who was scanning his +son's letter hungrily, yet with clouded brow. Feeling her +gaze upon him, he looked up, and there was a moment of +silent communing before the girl said wistfully: "No +message from Mataji*—even yet?" For Mataji, obdurate +to the last, had refused to bestow her blessing on the impious +quest. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Honoured Mother. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"It will come in time, little one—in time——" he +answered, enclosing her hand in his. "Ram Singh writes +that she is well. For the rest—quarrels and worries the +minute my back is turned." And he held out the sheet for +her to see. +</p> + +<p> +While they pored over it, head close to head, Audrey +Hammond softly opened the door; shutting it again yet +more softly, even as Lilamani stirred, and her father glanced +at the clock. +</p> + +<p> +"Lucky these came so early," said he. "By writing to-night, +I may just catch the out-going mail. You can send +a few words to Vimala also. The child is happy?" +</p> + +<p> +"As a young green parrot in love-time," Lilamani +answered lightly. "I will speak my few words to her out +there on the balcony, that I may watch the great sea fall +asleep at the passing of the sun." +</p> + +<p> +"Little idolater!" he chided, as she went; and she shook +her head, smiling back at him over her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +The sun's passing was near at hand now. Lilamani's +"butterflies" no longer flittered on the waters. The +faultlessly-carven coast line of the Esterelles—so close and +varied an hour earlier—seemed to have stepped backward +miles upon miles into a wonderland of golden mist, that +translated them from solid rock and stone into dream-hills +of a strangely thin, clean outline that enhanced their +delicacy of shape and hue. At their feet the great sea dozed +already. The fine light wind of the Riviera scarce stirred +it to a responsive ripple. Truly a sea of seas for colour! +It was as if amethyst, jade, and sapphire had been melted in +the crucible of some giant alchemyst, now one prevailing, +now the other, as the sun slowly gathered up his gift of +light. To Lilamani, whose passion for colour made it +almost a form of self-expression, the ever-varying beauty of +it all seemed each evening fraught with some new meaning; +and with an indrawn breath of content she sank into +her chair. Her few words must be swiftly writ before the +coming of that supreme moment when—in poetic Eastern +speech—"the Sun drops into the Sea and splashes up stars +for spray," and silence passes over the earth like a presence, +unseen yet piercingly felt. +</p> + +<p> +From the folds of her bodice she drew out her father's +latest gift, a gold fountain pen, set with one flashing +diamond—her name-stone, the "jewel of delight"; and for +a while it sped over the paper, keeping pace with her +thoughts, that transported her, as she wrote, back into the +sun-splashed courtyard whose four walls had been, for +seventeen years, the boundary lines of her actual world. +</p> + +<p> +So essentially is an Indian woman the product of that +hidden sanctuary of home, and all it stands for, that a +sudden uprooting involves the snapping of a hundred delicate +fibres, the entire readjustment of thought, feeling, and +conduct to the complex, unstable elements of the outer world. +And at seventeen a child of the fulgent East is already a +woman; which complicates matters not a little, in more +ways than one. So it was with Lilamani, a creature saturate +with the poetic symbolism, the passion and religious +fervour of her race, reared on age-old traditions and ideals +not to be eradicated by a change of continents and a few +years at college. Details, these last, too often overlooked by +the fervent progressivist, who "reforms" in haste and is +tripped up by them at leisure. +</p> + +<p> +The first ecstasy of escape, the first bewildering revelation +of the fullness and beauty of earth, the marvel of riding +upon the limitless ocean, "as it were upon an horse," had +left no space in the theatre of her sensations for the ache +of uprooted fibres, the sense of a familiar foothold gone. +Like a child in its first crowd, she clung to the two hands +she knew, and at night put herself to sleep with tales of the +wonders she would achieve when she fared back as torch-bearer +to the land she loved. Audrey Hammond had turned +her racial idealism to good account. +</p> + +<p> +But now in the quieter life of the hotel, where as yet they +kept mainly to themselves, there was leisure to feel the pain +of those severed fibres, the vague, insistent yearning for the +lost things of home; leisure to wonder if her venture were +foredoomed to failure by a mother's blessing withheld. +And the beginnings of higher study proved less inspiring +than she had hoped. The natural poet in her recoiled from +dry facts set forth in Latinized English, with neither glow +of colour nor gleam of fancy to lighten the grey page. +Studies with her father, who had trained her ear to the +music of written speech had set a halo about the mere word. +She discovered now how much hung upon the subject—and +the teacher. For all her fine qualities, Audrey lacked +the peculiar sympathy and insight that can make all learning +a delight. For her a fact was a fact. Its utility sufficed. +With Lilamani it was otherwise. Hence the beginning of +disillusion. But because she had good grit in her, and the +Indian woman's heritage of self-repression she kept silence +about these small troubles; nor dreamed that any guessed +at their existence. +</p> + +<p> +And while she sat writing, the sun slipped out of sight +unheeded. A small shiver, like the breeze of a passing spirit, +chilled earth and sea, where amethyst and jade had given +place to sapphire, and that in turn to indigo and grey. The +girl, who had begun the last page of her letter, looked up +expectant. But to-night the sun's passing was a tender +thing. No fairy islands in a lake of gold; no "crimson +blaring of his shawms." The sky, emptied of his presence, +flushed delicately, like a maid under her first kiss. A +trailing banner of cloud that hovered near, caught the wild rose +tint and held it, while light and colour ebbed slowly, till all +was grey—sea and sky and the Esterelles between—a cool, +delicate grey, as of a dove's wing; not one tone, but a +harmony of half-tones, a nocturne in a minor key. In the +upper grey a memory of palest blue; in the lower grey +shimmerings of jade and indigo, changing near the skyline to a +luminous pallor, neither silver nor white; the hills themselves +pearl-grey transparencies, as if washed in by the brush +of a master. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as she sat gazing, her round chin cradled in her +hand, behold a change—an aftermath of life before day's +ultimate end. Grey above and grey below were slowly +transfused with rose, so faint, yet all-pervading that it was +as if air and water blushed. No lines of light, no hint of +the sun's presence, only this ghost of a blush that faded +softly as it came, leaving, at last, one grey; and across it +the twin islands of the gulf lay like a smudge of Indian ink. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani sat on, still as any Yogi of her own land, the +gates of her receptive soul flung wide to the inflowing +message of this strange grey sunset; a message of peace shot +through with the rose of hope. Such, at least, was her +fanciful belief; and there is much virtue in belief, however +fanciful. In her case, it quieted a new, unreasoning ache that +she had vainly willed to disregard, healed the arrow-pricks +dealt her by Vimala's childish chatter of new bangles and +the betrothed. With a deep breath of relief she looked +down at the blank sheet upon her knee, vaguely wishful to +crystallize the music of the spheres into the halting music of +her own verse. But the ancestral spirit of meditation was +still strong upon her. The white emptiness of the paper +held her gaze, shutting out the sense of things actual; and +in place of verse living memory-pictures, real and clear as +crystal visions, moved before her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The familiar, white-walled courtyard with its central +tank and deep-pillared verandah glowed beneath its +turquoise dome. In the blue-grey shadow of an arch sat +Vimala and little Radha chattering like a pair of minas, and +outside in full sunshine the grey crane walked delicately, +and her own peacock sunned his jewelled tail with the +self-conscious airs and graces that she loved. Along the flagged +pathway by the tank, scarlet of poinsettia, and blood-red +hibiscus flowers made splashes of passionate colour, while +over against the house itself a gold mohur tree flung out +cedar-like branches ablaze with orange-golden bloom. +</p> + +<p> +From without came the sound of hoofs and wheels and the +voices of passing men. Then a small shiver ran through +her, for to the ears of her soul came clearly the heart-stirring +wail of conches from the temple hard by; and a figure +that she knew for her own, in its simple home draperies, +came out to listen, to bask in the fragrance of champak +and neem. +</p> + +<p> +But now all sense of illusion was lost. She was there, +feeling, seeing, hearing; all else forgotten as though it were +not. Next it was Mataji herself who came forth—plump, +practical, and a trifle sharp of tongue; but yet—Mataji, +guardian spirit of the home, honoured and beloved by all. +She had come out to scold her dreamy daughter—no +infrequent happening—for careless rendering of her morning +duties, and worse than all, for having insufficiently watered +the sacred <i>tulsi</i> that languished already from the heat. She +felt the compelling hand on her shoulder, felt it so forcibly +that she started and turned with an actual shiver, a feeling +as of a light blown out. +</p> + +<p> +And lo—it was Audrey's hand that held her shoulder, +Audrey's voice that reproved her in kindly practical tones. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear child—are you crazy, sitting out again alone +in the dark? You know it made you feverish the other +night." +</p> + +<p> +"But I love it so," the culprit murmured lamely, as the +other with gentle professional deftness touched her wrist +and brow. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you do, dear. But health must stand first. +Besides, it's nearly dinner-time. Come to my room. I'll +give you some quinine." +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani gathered up her unfinished letter and obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +There were moments when Audrey's tone and opinions +faintly recalled Mataji herself. Both were capable and +decisive; both slaves of a fetish. As the last word of Mataji +was <i>dastur</i>, so the last word of Audrey was health; and +to-night, jerked abruptly out of her vision, only to be +confronted with quinine, this gentle-mannered girl (who had +bought freedom from <i>dastur</i> at a heavier price than she +guessed) came near to wondering whether, in truth, she +had but exchanged one form of tyranny for another, after +all. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0103"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER III +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "I find, under the bows of love and hate,<br> + In all poor foolish things that live a day,<br> + Eternal beauty wandering on her way."<br> + W. B. YEATS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +With engaging docility Lilamani swallowed her quinine, +accepting it, without conviction, as an article +of Audrey's faith, that must shortly be her own also. But +on the suggestion that to-night she should make a fresh +advance by dining downstairs, docility vanished. Her small +decisive chin asserted itself, the chin that had defied Mataji +and <i>dastur</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"Eat my food in a crowd of noisy strangers? Audrey, +I cannot. At least—not yet." +</p> + +<p> +She spoke quite gently; but Audrey Hammond knew by +this time how delusive was that gentleness. +</p> + +<p> +"Quaint child! I thought you enjoyed seeing new kinds +of people and things," was all she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I do! They are so astonishing. I love to see them +all. But I think—not too close. And not at food-time." +</p> + +<p> +That last made Audrey smile and shrug her shoulders. +It is difficult for the West to understand the Eastern +sanctification of such prosaic essentials as bathing and feeding; +though in their own Book of Books it is written, "whether +ye eat or drink, ye shall do it unto the Lord." But that +Book came from the East, and even after two thousand +years the essentially Eastern spirit of it still remains a +stumbling-block to the practical, self-assertive soul of the West. +Even Sir Lakshman Singh, whose civilization was more than +skin deep, still disliked hotel meals. Hence his reluctance +to force them on his daughter. Audrey admired him +greatly, though innate self-assurance convinced her that she +would have managed her rebel better alone. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, my dear, if you won't, you won't!" she said with +a touch of good-humoured irritation, unfastening brooches +and buttons as she spoke. "We might try going down +after dinner one evening. You must make a start some +day—now you're here." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, oh, yes—some day," the girl answered, catching +at the soothing vagueness of the word. "But you, +Audrey, you need not miss what pleases you because—I +am shy." +</p> + +<p> +"No. Of course not," Audrey agreed; then paused, considering +the matter while she tidied her soft, fair hair. Till +to-day she had felt no particular wish to join the +after-dinner gathering in the central hall, where a local band +played twice a week, and people danced, when the spirit +moved them. But her meeting with Nevil Sinclair had +set the clock back. After years of arduous service to find +him just where she had left him—attractive, leisured, and +irresponsible—made her feel unaccountably young again. +Though full eight-and-twenty, and mature of her age, her +pulses had never quickened for any man, nor, in her belief, +ever would. But, from the first, this thwarted artist and +good comrade had secured a corner of her heart; and on +meeting him again, she found that the same corner, not an +inch more, belonged to him still. It is even possible that +his arrival may have strengthened her conviction that +Lilamani's nascent home-sickness should be combated by a fresh +step in advance. She would have denied it upon oath, in all +sincerity. But that is neither here nor there. +</p> + +<p> +Catching sight of Lilamani's face in the glass, she nodded +and smiled. "Your looks belie your name-stone, child, +and your father seems worried since the mail came in; +so I won't 'dine out' to-night. I may run down afterwards; +and I may insist on taking you with me. Now—run along." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +So Nevil Sinclair looked in vain for the possible descent +of his Peri into the crowded room, where the truly civilized +discussed their dinner—in both senses—under conditions +that might well seem barbarous to minds not hypnotized +by habit. Through an intermittent roar of human tongues +and clattering plates, preoccupied waiters scurried to and +fro balancing a silver dish on either hand; and one only of +the glass doors into the verandah stood open to the cool and +quiet of the night. +</p> + +<p> +In the neighbourhood of this friendly door, Sinclair +shared a table with another Antibes <i>habitué</i>. Cuthbert +Broome, novelist and essayist of no small repute; a big, +bearded man, nearing fifty, with a thatch of tawny hair, +and sailor-blue eyes, that missed no detail of men or things. +And there is a sufficiency of both for the born observer at a +continental hotel. Behind them two Hebraic Germans, +napkins tucked under ponderous chins, fought their business +battles over again, with variations, in the intervals of +damning cold soup and the monotony of the menus. On one +side, a party of Londoners, correct to the last hook and +button, had a politely inquiring gaze for Sinclair's well-bred +profile. The two girls, in unimpeachable "restaurant +frocks," had evidently been to Nice studying the momentous +hat question, over which they argued like a pair of +theologians over a point of evidence. On the other side a +French couple, not long married, drank champagne and made +love surreptitiously when they imagined no one heeded them. +But Cuthbert Broome, listening to Nevil with scrupulous +attention, was quite aware of it all. The third chair at their +own table remained empty; and when a fresh ebullition of +waiters skidded past armed with <i>noisettes de veau</i>, Nevil +commented on the fact. +</p> + +<p> +"Little Martino's late. Anything wrong?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; poor chap. Temperature, with a slight touch of +hæmorrhage," the big man answered, and the voice that +matched his frame had a sympathetic note in its depths. +"Sat out too late the other night over an after-glow effect. +The result's magnificent—on canvas. Quite the reverse +on his luckless carcase. But he wouldn't go to bed; though +I prevailed on him to dine upstairs. He deserves +immortality, does Martino, if ever man did. A born fighter, +though his weapons are only a paint-brush and a mahl-stick; +and all the odds against him." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil nodded thoughtfully. Here it was again, the +primal quality that makes for achievement. +</p> + +<p> +"'Life but a coin, to be staked in the pastime, whose +playing is more than the transfer of being,'" he quoted. +"That's Martino's creed." +</p> + +<p> +Said Broome: "A plucky one. And he lives up to it. +He'll die for it years before he need. But he will leave his +mark. He was alternately choking and holding forth on a +new colour-theory all this afternoon. I could only keep him +quiet by dosing him with extracts from a purple epic, which +my editor friend of the 'Book World' is bound over to pat +on the back; and I am the chosen instrument, for my sins." +</p> + +<p> +"A chance to air your gift of subtle irony," suggested +Nevil by way of consolation. +</p> + +<p> +"In which case the great Wigmore would come down on +me like a ton of best Wallsend; and I might snap a +connection I don't want to lose. There's a side-light for you +on the ethics of reviewing! But the book has some good +stuff in it, once you're through with the Epic, which you +shall read, my Nevil, if only that you may learn what not +to write——" +</p> + +<p> +And, having fallen upon a subject of mutual interest, +they clave to it till the doors into the hall were flung wide +to admit the spirited strains of "Semiramide." For it was +band night; and frivolity would be the order of the evening. +Frivolity of the mildest, and most innocuous; since Antibes +lies a little off the beaten track of the Riviera as it is +understanded of Society, and the budding millionaire. Cannes, +Nice, and Monte Carlo entangle, in their jewelled meshes, +the gambler, the devotee of bridge, restaurant and promenade; +the well-bred idler with a taste for forbidden fruit; and +restless young America, with a taste for all things costly +and effervescent. To the grey, rocky headland of the Cap, +with its pinewoods and aromatic cushions of myrtle and +lentisk, come rather invalids in search of health, +over-worked professional men and women in search of rest or +renewed inspiration; a fair sprinkling also of those travellers +who have enough of resource within to ask no more than +large draughts of peace, and light, and colour from the twin +goblets of sea and sky; a passing respite from the complex +machinery of modern life and work. Folk of this kind do +not always look promising at first sight. Such riches as +they may possess are not to be vaunted in terms of silk and +precious stones, and the last thing in motor-cars. But a +little delving under the surface will often reveal an unexpected +streak of ore; and those gifted ones, swift to detect +the God in the clay, have even been known to dig up diamonds. +</p> + +<p> +Of such was Cuthbert Broome, most sane and human of +novelists. The fact that half a dozen critics of note had +hailed him as a creative genius—word too lavishly used in +this our age of spurious masterpieces—had neither upset his +equilibrium, nor engendered the disease of acute +self-consciousness that is the bane of modern talent. His bodily +strength and power of work were phenomenal; no less so, +perhaps, his sympathy for those lacking in both. He turned +up at the Cap Hotel every few years; and more often than +not lighted on a friend or two worth keeping. In one visit +he had discovered Andrea Martino, the consumptive Italian +artist with the body of a grasshopper and the soul of a hero. +In another he had chanced upon Nevil Sinclair, beneath +whose modesty and seeming lightness he discovered a measure +of talent and strength as yet unsuspected by the young +man himself. There be natures that come late to fruition, +and Nevil was one of these; the more so because of the +smooth ground under his feet and the curse of the +ready-made income. +</p> + +<p> +Cuthbert Broome, kindly yet critical, grieved over him +as a victim of the sorrows of happiness, the vital poverty +that may result from wealth. But he did not grieve as one +without hope. The finer qualities were there; and he +awaited with interest the pointed pain or pleasure that +should stab them broad awake. For himself, Necessity +had belaboured him generously ever since he could +remember, with excellent result. +</p> + +<p> +Now, as he passed along with the crowd, that surged out +into the great square lounge, his tawny beard wagged and +his sailor eyes twinkled in one direction and another. There +was the small convex widow, Mrs. Heath, yclept the +Hen Sparrow, by reason of a propensity for twittering +in and out of season. Beside her sauntered the pretty +niece with the "pompadour coiffeur" and secret hankerings +after Mentone and Monte Carlo. Then there was the +handsome French woman with lips a little drawn, and a +hunted look in her eyes, because the five-year-old son, her +light of life, was smitten with the curse of asthma, and +her husband, smitten with the curse of a "system," was +flinging away with both hands the money needed to keep +his child alive. +</p> + +<p> +Broome had an almost tender twinkle for her; as also for +the eager-faced maiden lady, Miss Swithin, in freckles and +spectacles and her best summer dress of the year before +last. On the sandy-grey knot of hair half-way up her head +sat an irrelevant blue bow, dropped, as it were, by her youth +in its passing, though gleams of it still lingered in her +inquiring eyes. A lone soul, one of the thousand and one +oddments of earth, squandering the savings of years on a lone +peep into Paradise. Shy of speaking to strangers without +introduction, she played Patience zealously every evening +at a lone small table in a corner; and nearly fainted between +delight and trepidation, when the big, bearded "sailor-man" +had boldly introduced himself, and talked to her all the +evening. She had sat up late that night, in her third-floor +bedroom, adding a rather incoherent entry to her +neatly-written "Journal of a Golden Month," bound in vellum +and tied with white strings. +</p> + +<p> +After that, he often joined her when she looked specially +forlorn and the blue bow more irrelevant than usual. +Sometimes they played double patience; and when she won, +enjoyment could scarce go farther. Now when a known +writer goes out of his way to make friends with stray +humans, there are those who are sure to believe him—not +quite without reason—merely in search of "copy." But, +in the case of Cuthbert Broome, such belief were libel. +The man's creative impulse was too spontaneous and +exuberant, and he himself too great-hearted to be so tempted, +even did he not strongly disapprove. +</p> + +<p> +"If ever I caught myself taking deliberate notes of a +fellow-creature," he had said once to a simpering admirer, who +rather hoped he might be taking notes of her, "I should +burn all my skeletons of projected novels, and devote the +rest of my life to picking holes in other people's!" But +like many of us when we take pains to speak truth, he was +not believed. +</p> + +<p> +Be that as it might, he saw in the wearer of the blue bow +simply a woman starved of legitimate hopes and emotions; +and out of his own superabundance he gave what he could. +But Miss Swithin did not figure in his occasional letters to +Mrs. Cuthbert Broome, who was too practically occupied +with committee meetings and demonstrations of the +organized woman's movement, to find time for "loafing at +Antibes." She would not have understood. Even after +twenty years of marriage there were whole tracts in her +husband's expansive nature that were entirely outside her +comprehension. Yet their marriage was not tragic, nor +even a complete failure. Possibly it was a mistake. But +marriage is a mystery seemingly outside human volition; +and it were rash to dogmatise even so far. +</p> + +<p> +To-night, when the folding-doors were closed, and the +crowd broken up into accustomed groups, mainly racial, +Broome lit his pipe and strolled over to the cane table that +Miss Swithin had fairly made her own. The blue bow, +having been fixed on hurriedly, seemed almost to beckon +him as its wearer's head nodded in sympathy with Madame +de Lisle's account of her boy. Broome had introduced +them to each other and was glad to see them making friends. +Miss Swithin enjoyed airing her French, and Madame de +Lisle her broken English; so it was a capital arrangement, +and he went over to enjoy it, sure of a welcome from +both. +</p> + +<p> +Sinclair gravitated toward the "pompadour coiffeur," +for whom he was an oasis in a desert of boredom; young +men being scarce at Antibes. He found her pleasant +enough in spite of her "pretty woman" tricks of manner; +but caught himself wishing it were Audrey and surreptitiously +glancing at the door. Besides, she could talk of +the Peri; and he was curious to hear more. It did not +occur to him that others could talk of her, too, till +"Semiramide" had hurried to its crashing finale, and the +Hen Sparrow leaned eagerly across her niece. +</p> + +<p> +"Have <i>you</i> seen our Indian curio yet, Mr. Sinclair? +The pretty little purdah lady who won't defile herself by +dining downstairs?" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Sinclair, who had been looking politely bored, was +all attention. Yes, he had seen her, afar off. Did she ever +come down, and had Mrs. Heath spoken to her? +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Of course</i> I have," Mrs. Heath twittered triumphantly. +"I made a <i>point</i> of it on the first opportunity. Odd +specimens. They make up half the fun of hotel life. But this +Lilamani girl" (she pronounced it Lillamanny) "is really +quite a sweet creature. She isn't strong. Nerves, I believe. +Even India is catching the modern epidemic. Still ... I +<i>do</i> think it would be better for her to come down on an +evening like this, than to stay moping upstairs. Those three +people are going to sing soon. The man with the +tambourine is killingly funny—quite a character——" +</p> + +<p> +Then Nevil had an inspiration. "Couldn't you send up +word to Miss Hammond and suggest it?" said he. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, of course. How clever of you! I might write +a little note." +</p> + +<p> +"And I might take it. I know Miss Hammond quite +well. We met here before." +</p> + +<p> +"It <i>is</i> a pity she's so self-satisfied," murmured Miss +Blakeney, leaning a sequined and bangled arm over the cane +table between them and considering it with interest. +</p> + +<p> +"Is she?" asked Nevil indifferently, and carried off his +note. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0104"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IV +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Les rencontres ici-bas sont souvent preparés de loins."<br> + PIERRE DE COULEVAIN.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +He sent it in by Kali Das, with a message that Sinclair +Sahib awaited an answer; and before many minutes +were out Audrey appeared, in a little flutter of pleased +surprise, very rare with her. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Nevil! Was it your plan?" she asked, scanning +him with approval. +</p> + +<p> +"Partly mine, partly hers. Do come, anyway—all of +you." Then, after a pause: "Miss Blakeney palls, you +know." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—I <i>do</i> know! And I am to act as antidote?" +</p> + +<p> +"Naturally!" +</p> + +<p> +His frank smile was as frankly returned. "Very well. +I'll try to persuade the child. If we do come, we shan't be +long. But don't wait—please." +</p> + +<p> +Of course he waited, not on the landing, but at the foot +of the grand staircase where the lift comes down. And +while he stood waiting, wondering, there came over him +the strange sense—known to most of us—of having stood +thus and waited thus, somewhere, somewhen, for the +coming—of what? +</p> + +<p> +At this point the ghost of a memory eluded him, and +reality intervened. The iron doors of the lift opened with a +clang. +</p> + +<p> +Audrey stepped out, and after her—the "purdah lady"; +no longer a simple evening primrose, but an iridescent +vision of grey and gold, shot through with mother-o'-pearl +tints that shimmered changefully when she moved. Her +<i>sari</i>, drawn well forward, had a narrow border of pale gold +cunningly inwrought with rose. For, as always, she had +chosen a dress to match her mood—her sunset mood of +peace tenderly flushed with hope. +</p> + +<p> +Upon Audrey's introduction of Nevil she bowed her +head without looking up; and he noted, through the +semi-transparency of her veil, the dark, smooth ripple of hair; +the red caste mark on her brow; the fine chain at her throat +from which one blue moon-stone hung like a great drop of +dew. There was not a detail he could have wished +otherwise. Even while he shook hands with Sir Lakshman +Singh, and appraised the clean-cut strength of the man, he +was telling himself that in this dress he must paint her, +though only the hand of an Alma Tadema could hope to +catch its opalescent sheen. +</p> + +<p> +The great door into the lounge was shut, and through it +came the voice of him with the tambourine; not a voice of +melody, but of sheer rollicking <i>joie de vivre</i>. Four or five +hotel servants were flattening their faces against the glass; +and an agile waiter pounced upon the door-handle. But +Lilamani shrank backward, flushing to the temples. Her +fingers closed upon her father's arm; and he turned promptly +aside. +</p> + +<p> +"She is right," he said to Audrey; "we will go round +through the dining-room, and have chairs put in at the +back." +</p> + +<p> +The which they did; slipping in, almost unnoticed, while +the whole room clapped and shouted, and the shock-headed +Italian, in the shabby dinner-jacket, with a mouth like a +slit in a turnip and no stage property save his tambourine, +swept a burlesque bow to the woman at his side. For it +was a duet—an Italian love-song—trilled and "tra-la"-ed +with dramatic abandon by the tambourinist—an artist after +his kind—who could wax playful, reproachful, fervent +by turns over a "Bella" whose middle-aged plumpness was +compressed into a puce-coloured cashmere gown of the same +doubtful age as herself. No trace in her of the man's +madcap surrender to the folly of the moment. Being a woman, +and practical, music might be in her throat, but the +collection-plate was at her heart. With the laboured zeal of one +responsible for the number of francs it might contain, she +marshalled her best high notes, her marionette gestures of +coquetry, scorn, and final surrender to the triumphal +clashing of the tambourine. +</p> + +<p> +Then the real woman emerged; and she threaded her +way among the guests, plate in hand. No band on earth +could make sweeter music than the tinkle of the silver pieces +as they fell. It was her supreme moment, even as the +applause had been the man's. +</p> + +<p> +Through it all Lilamani had sat spellbound; shyness and +self-consciousness forgotten, in this fresh revealing of the +unknown world into which she had flung herself with +the valour of ignorance and despair. On the steamer she +had rarely ventured out of her deck-cabin, except in those +times of peace when hungry passengers gravitated to the +saloon table, like filings of steel to a magnet. On <i>tamasha</i> +evenings, she had heard the sounds of revelry afar off, and +watched the passing figures from her window. +</p> + +<p> +Now for the first time, she saw in full—and was amazed: +the ugly evening dress of the men, that her father must +never wear when they were alone; the women laughing +and talking as frankly with them as though all were +brothers or cousins of the first degree: the lights, the +movement, the waiters whisking away coffee-cups and small +glasses. True, Audrey had told her of it all; but to see it, +to sit in the midst of it, brought home to her with something +of a shock the new conditions of her life. A couple of +French women and an Italian wore full evening dress. +They sat in a group with three men, leaning bare arms +on the cane table before them, puffing cigarettes and +gesticulating freely. Young as she was, the sight hurt her in a +way few women of the West would understand. In truth, +the whole scene, even while it fascinated, troubled her racial +sense of dignity and reserve. +</p> + +<p> +But with the end of the song came the end of self-forgetfulness. +It dawned on her that people were looking and +whispering. Mrs. Heath, peering expectantly through a +tortoise-shell lorgnette, caught the sheen of her <i>sari</i>, and +fluttered across to them, friendly and voluble; while Miss +Blakeney, who found Audrey "superior" and the Indian +girl "insipid," kept her seat and smiled alluringly at +Sinclair, without result. +</p> + +<p> +The devotees of the hat question, lately arrived, could +scarcely keep curiosity within the bounds of good manners, +and the Hebraic Germans stared so flagrantly that Nevil +longed to smite them between the eyes and take the +consequences: the more so, when he saw that she noticed it, and +drew her <i>sari</i> forward, almost hiding her face. During +the song he had stood near Audrey talking of old times; +though he, too, had been watching under his lids, and +drawing comparisons between the sequined fluffy-haired Miss +Blakeney, with her self-conscious poses, and the exquisite +simplicity of this flower of Indian girlhood, her drooping +grace and slenderness, as of a willow by moonlight. And +now, smitten by her sensitive shrinking, he deserted Audrey, +drew up a chair and sat down boldly beside his picture that +was to be. +</p> + +<p> +Unhappily, the end of self-forgetfulness had wrought her +to an agony of shyness; and that this strange young man +should come and talk to her reduced her almost to the +verge of flight. But courtesy forbade. She could only +incline her head in recognition of his presence, leaving him +to begin. +</p> + +<p> +And he found it astonishingly difficult. He who could +talk fluently to anything human, from a guttersnipe to an +archbishop, was smitten dumb by the beauty and aloofness +of this mere child of another race. He cleared his throat +and said lamely: "You find all this very strange, of +course?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. It is strange. I am not accustomed——" +</p> + +<p> +She broke off to moisten her lips, and could get no further. +Her slim fingers locked and unlocked themselves distressfully. +</p> + +<p> +He tried again. "The music and the singing pleased +you?" +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. "Your music is very different from ours. +I like it. But I like a great deal better the music and +dancing of the sun upon the sea." +</p> + +<p> +"So do I," he agreed more hopefully. "You'll get +plenty of that here. It was wise of Miss Hammond to +choose Antibes." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—oh, yes." +</p> + +<p> +Another dead pause. Something across the room had +caught her attention, and he felt himself forgotten. He +also felt foolish, and vaguely annoyed. Uphill work with +a woman was new to him, and not at all to his taste. If +she would only help him forward with a smile, a glance. +But her words, low and musically spoken, were seemingly +addressed to the locked hands in her lap: and he could not +know how her heart was throbbing in her throat beneath +the big dew-drop on its chain. In his futile search for a +fresh topic he was harassed by the twittering of Mrs. Heath, +who believed she was making an impression on Sir Lakshman +Singh, while her courteous victim smilingly allowed the +waters to flow over his turbaned head. +</p> + +<p> +Then the players in the corner dashed into a spirited +mazurka; and Sinclair's next remark passed unheeded, +unheard. A chill of disappointment quenched his admiration. +As a picture she was incomparable, this child of seclusion; +but as an entity she seemed unpromising, almost stupid. +None the less did she exhale an atmosphere of her own. +He felt it even while resenting it, because it seemed to +exclude himself. More than ever he marvelled how Audrey +could hope to make a doctor of her: yet Audrey was no fool. +</p> + +<p> +Of a sudden he saw that she had realized his predicament +and was coming to the rescue. He rose at her approach, +and Lilamani looked up. It was as if a lamp had been +lighted within; and Nevil's flickering spark of interest +revived. Audrey laid a reassuring hand on the girl's +shoulder; but it was to the man she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"They are going to clear half the dining-room for dancing +after this. Rather nice." +</p> + +<p> +"Capital!" said he with grateful sense of passing from +a too rarified atmosphere into the common light of day. +"The first valse is ours, of course; not to say the second, +if you will!" +</p> + +<p> +He turned to Lilamani, his awkwardness gone. "Have +you ever seen English people dance, Miss—Lakshman +Singh?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, never. And I think—I would rather not." She +leaned nearer to Miss Hammond, speaking almost under +her breath. "Oh! Audrey, please—there are too many +people here. I want to go up again—now." +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense, child! You <i>must</i> stay a little longer now +you've come. Your shyness will soon wear off, and the +change will do you good." +</p> + +<p> +She spoke with kindly decision and with the comfortable +conviction that zeal for Lilamani's enlightenment prompted +her own wish to remain. It is common as it is consoling, +this belief that the thing we would do must, in some way, +subserve another's gain: and for all her steady pulses and +advanced views Audrey Hammond was yet a woman; glad +to recapture, even for a moment, the girlish spirit of +enjoyment stolen from her by the strenuous years. +</p> + +<p> +There was a stir throughout the room; a scraping of +chairs on the tessellated floor. The singers bowed +themselves out; the folding-doors were flung wide again; and +the band struck up a memory-provoking valse. Audrey +patted Lilamani's shoulder, and murmuring: "Don't be +foolish, dear," went off on her partner's arm. +</p> + +<p> +With feelings that veered between interest and vague +distaste, Lilamani watched them go; watched the woman +she loved and respected only less than her own mother, +spin lightly round upon her toes, like any nautch-girl, in +the arms of this strange man, who was neither brother nor +betrothed. The reading of occasional novels with her +father had taught her that the "Europe betrothed" might +take liberties whereof no Indian would dream; but even so +it astounded her that they did not think shame of themselves, +capering thus for all the world to look upon. The very +waiter-folk, peering in from the hall, showed like grinning +emblems of derision. Yet, seemingly, all was well. It was +<i>dastur</i>, a word that covers more sins than charity's self. +</p> + +<p> +A dozen other couples followed Audrey's lead: whirling +in the same graceless fashion; women clinging to the arms +of men, even those flagrantly unveiled ones, who had +chattered like bazaar folk that come to sell wares in the +verandah. In some cases women twirled with women, +which puzzled her less, though the distressing publicity +remained. And in no case did the dancers dream that the +shy strange girl, half hidden in her shimmering drapery, +was sitting in judgment on them; weighing their conduct +and finding it wanting in dignity, delicacy, and womanly +reserve. Even Audrey, of the strong brain and will, did +not come off scot-free; and the fact that she could criticize +her mentor marked a new phase in Lilamani's progress. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, while pain deepened in her, a reluctant +fascination deepened also. Assuredly the music had some +sort of magic which even she could feel. The entrancing +rhythm of it spoke to the feet, impelling them to move. +Doubtless it bewitched those others even as strong wine +was said to bewitch men, so that they knew not what they +did. +</p> + +<p> +At this point, her trance of thought was broken by the +voice of Sir Lakshman—mercifully delivered from the +kindest lady alive by one who had persuaded her to dance. +</p> + +<p> +Straightway he came to his daughter, and sitting down +beside her, spoke low in their native tongue. +</p> + +<p> +"Thou art troubled, my child? Or doth it please thee, +this strange <i>tamasha</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +Slowly she shook her head, and turned upon him wide, +wondering eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Strange it is, father mine. And yet—I am here to +learn many new things. Is it needful I should +become—in all ways—as these——?" +</p> + +<p> +"The Great God forbid!" he said fervently. "But +before long thou wilt better understand how in some +matters—this for instance—we see through one glass, they +through another. In their eyes this form of <i>nautch</i> is +harmless as child's play. For them, therefore, it is not evil. +And in truth," he added with a reminiscent smile, "it is +pleasant enough! I myself tried it in student days." +</p> + +<p> +"You—oh, father! With these white women? But +not now——!" Her light fingers on his coat-sleeve gave +her entreaty a hint of command. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no," he said soothingly. "In those days, being +young, I was eager to drink the waters of pleasure, as of +knowledge, at all fountains. Now, being old, I eat the +fruit of discretion, and it is the daughter of my heart who +ventures along strange paths!" +</p> + +<p> +"To-night this daughter of thine heart hath seen enough +of strange paths. Why wait we for Audrey? Take me +back, quickly—to 'the Inside,' where alone is peace." +</p> + +<p> +Her tone had a light touch of petulance, very endearing +to him; and the familiar Indian word for the women's +quarter struck a note of home that went to his heart. He +rose and offered his arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, then. I am ready. Miss Hammond can follow +when she will. She seems to be enjoying herself after her +own fashion." +</p> + +<p> +So they went forth together, the tall, straight-limbed man +in faultless evening dress, with the iridescent vision on his +arm; and many curious eyes followed their going. +</p> + +<p> +Audrey Hammond saw it also, not without a passing +sense of relief from responsibility. Most certainly she was +enjoying herself—in her own fashion; which was not the +fashion of Lilamani, or of Miss Blakeney; still less that of +Miss Swithin, whose blue bow bobbed jauntily, if a little +tremulously, above the elbow of Cuthbert Broome. She +found it good to be dancing again with Nevil Sinclair. But +no stir of the pulses enhanced the discovery. It is a question +whether girls of her type—products of extreme reaction +from mid-Victorian ideals—are not cultivating brain and +ego at the expense of the natural emotions; a doubtful gain +for themselves and for the race, in an age already +overloaded with intellectuality and all its works. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly for Audrey Hammond much of Nevil's value +lay in the fact, that he could seemingly give and take +friendship with as little after-thought as the most inveterate +"bachelor-girl" could wish. The understanding between +them seemed curiously complete; and to both it appeared +quite natural that they should spend the whole evening +together if they chose. As each fresh dance struck up Nevil +remarked airily: +</p> + +<p> +"Well—shall we go on?" And she: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, of course. Why not?" +</p> + +<p> +So they went on, to the disgust of Miss Blakeney and the +amusement of Cuthbert Broome, who saw Nevil's heart +apparently rent and riven at a stroke. Clearly both were +enjoying themselves to the top of their bent. For the +moment, Sinclair had even forgotten his picture: and not +until the dancing was nearly over did he speak of his wish +to see more of the Lakshman Singhs. +</p> + +<p> +"A pity they didn't stay longer," said he. "And a pity +she's so shy. My attempt at making friends was a dead +failure. The deadest I've ever known with a girl." +</p> + +<p> +"Very good for you!" Audrey answered in what +Lilamani called her "medicine voice." "But very trying +for her, poor child. Her education didn't include the art +of talking to strange young men." +</p> + +<p> +"It must now, though, if you mean to make her a doctor; +and I offer myself as a dummy to be practised on!" +</p> + +<p> +"You really want to try again?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, of course." His hidden motive was almost on his +lips; but he knew her capable of thwarting him if she saw +fit, and added instead: "She is charming enough to be +worth looking at even if she refuses to talk! How shall we +arrange things? Will you all have tea with me in the +verandah to-morrow?" +</p> + +<p> +"I doubt that—after to-night! The next day would be +more probable. But she's a creature of moods and rather +spoilt, as I told you. If you really want them to come you +had better ask Sir Lakshman." +</p> + +<p> +"That I will. He seems a capital fellow." +</p> + +<p> +Audrey nodded. "If modern India produced more of +his type we should hear little or nothing of political unrest." +</p> + +<p> +"Very clever of you to bring them here, and very clever +of me to turn up at the psychological moment! A thundering +good plan all round." +</p> + +<p> +"Thundering good!" she agreed frankly: upon which +conclusion they parted; at peace with themselves and the +world. +</p> + +<p> +Nevil saw her into the lift; then lit a cigar; and its +flavour was enhanced by a pleasant conviction that his +impromptu descent upon Antibes bid fair to justify very +completely his egregious desertion of Jane. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0105"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER V +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "A spindle of hazel-wood had I.<br> + Into the mill stream it fell one day;<br> + The water has brought it back no more."<br> + ROUMANIAN BALLAD.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"But this is good. Santa Maria, it is good! So slight +a thing; yet—entirely alive. If you make not a +picture of this, Sinclair, talk no more to me of your +aspirations. No longer I shall believe in them." +</p> + +<p> +Thus Andrea Martino, standing in a flood of afternoon +light at his third-floor window, and holding Nevil's sketch-book +at arm's length before him. His shock head of hair—jerked +now this way, now that—suggested an intelligent +blackbird considering a worm; a suggestion heightened by +the beak-like nose that sprang boldly out betwixt eyes +cavernously set under one dense ink-smudge of eyebrow. +The single crease of concentration furrowed his forehead, +and dull patches of colour on his cheek-bones, accentuating +the hollow beneath, told their own tale. It was a fine head, +too fine for the lean, undersized body, producing at times a +contrast that bordered on the grotesque. +</p> + +<p> +Sinclair, bestriding a bedroom chair, a cigarette balanced +between two fingers, was doing his best not to look foolishly +elate, and succeeding fairly well, thanks to a racial heritage +of self-repression. Martino's studio was a corner bedroom, +roughly metamorphosed by the removal of the washing-stand; +a Turkish Djimjim flung over the bed; easel, +canvases and a bare deal table sticky with paints. Two +oval windows, looking west, framed sun-saturate visions of +the twinkling bay, and white villas of Cannes, backed by the +barren ranges and clean-cut peaks of the Alpes Maritimes. +A third window looked upon open sea and sky, the twin +islands and the carven outline of the Esterelles. Beside it, +from a tall vase, rose plumes of mimosa, breathing out faint +fragrance. +</p> + +<p> +The one arm-chair was amply filled by Cuthbert Broome, +chewing a pipe and correcting proof slips in the intervals of +considering Sinclair's profile and wondering which emotion +struck deeper—the thrill of Martino's unfeigned approval, +or the thrill of laying siege to the self-poised girl with the +disconcertingly direct grey eyes. It was a problem congenial +to his psychological turn of mind. The girl—if her +looks belied her not—stood for politics and a fairly assured +parliamentary career. The picture, if achieved, stood for +artistry and vagabondage, for possible success, and probable +family discord and disapproval. For the moment, Broome +felt doubtful which way Sinclair—the essential +Sinclair—leaned. Last night he could have sworn to the girl. +To-day, watching Nevil's face under Martino's volcanic +discharges of encouragement, his assurance wavered: nor +could he quite decide which way of leaning his own ripe, +unbiassed judgment would applaud. +</p> + +<p> +Even from the unfinished sketch it was clear that Sinclair's +sleeping talent had genuinely caught fire. But one +inspiration, however genuine, never yet made an artist. It +is continuity of power that tells; as Broome had good +reason to know. He knew, too, that the keystone of all +imaginative work worth doing is capacity for great emotion—the +furnace that fuses thought and inspiration, form and +colour, into one living whole. In a life packed with +observation, he had seen and noted how often lack of this +very capacity stamps as ineffectual the clever, complex, +highly civilized young Englishman of to-day; and, so far, +it seemed as though Sinclair had not altogether escaped the +disability of his race and age. No doubt smooth going +along the line of least resistance had retarded development. +But once let him reach the cross-roads, the true man must +out.... +</p> + +<p> +And while the subconscious brain of the novelist played +with probabilities, as a child with the pieces of a puzzle, +his hand travelled down the printed slips, scribbling +hieroglyphics in the margin with mechanical accuracy, while his +ear missed little of the talk, or rather the monologue by the +window. +</p> + +<p> +"And she is in the hotel, you say? Under the same roof +with us—this houri—this <i>bellissima</i>?" Martino had just +demanded, slapping-to the sketch-book on one of his extravagant +prophecies that set Nevil tingling to the roots of his +hair. "And she walks in the garden?" +</p> + +<p> +"Sometimes; not often," said Nevil, wondering amusedly, +What next? +</p> + +<p> +"Then why not have I seen her—I?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because, my dear fellow," put in Broome with a friendly +twirl of his eye, "when <i>you</i> walk in the garden your +expansive soul spreads itself over the whole sea and sky. +Incidentally you may be aware of rocks and trees in the +foreground. But anything so infinitesimal as a human +being——!" +</p> + +<p> +"Chut!" Martino waved him aside with a laugh that +broke midway into a cough and brought a crumpled silk +handkerchief to his lips. "It is to Sinclair I talk. You +love not to speak your true meaning except with your pen! +I remember me now—I have seen a dark man in a turban. +He is her father—no?" Nevil nodded. "Then it is +him you have to make believe what a picture this will be. +If you are too modest, send him to Martino, who will have +a tongue of gold at your service. But, my friend, lose no +time. In art you must strike while your iron is hot. You +wish in earnest to become an artist. But all these years, +I tell you, Sinclair, you have been playing fool with a brush +that was made for work. A spark from the fire of God +burns in you, waiting to spring into flame. But you have +choked it with earth that it cannot burn. And now, see—right +out of heaven, this star dropt at your feet. Waste no +more time, making glowworms with your eternal cigarette. +Santa Maria! How can you with your insolence of youth +and health know—as I know"—he beat upon his damaged +chest and coughed again—"that time is gold and diamonds +and all the riches of the earth rolled into one mass. Know +it or not, only hear this poor devil with one lung and paint +your picture while you can. Paint it that it shall please me, +and Jacques Lesseppes—and then——" He stayed for +breath, and again it was Broome who interposed, instinctively +keeping the balance of things by putting all his weight into +the opposite scale. +</p> + +<p> +"You forget, Martino, that as the eldest son of an old +English family Sinclair owes it to his father to make an +honest bid for a parliamentary career——" +</p> + +<p> +"Huh! Parliamentary candlesticks——!" +</p> + +<p> +"Fiddlesticks, you mean, my dear chap!" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ah, bene</i>! Fiddlesticks—candlesticks—it is all one." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no; not quite!" Broome's twinkling gravity held +its own. "Structural differences, you know, to say nothing +of value! Besides, in this case——" +</p> + +<p> +The Italian flung up his hands in an ecstasy of impatience, +and clapped them over his ears. "I am a deaf. I hear not +anything!" he declared, not all in jest; and Nevil, springing +up, gripped his friend by the shoulders from behind. +</p> + +<p> +"What shall we do to him, Martino <i>mio</i>? Gag him +with his own proofs?" +</p> + +<p> +"If—you—please," the small man answered with grave +emphasis; and at their joint shout of laughter his black +brows went up. The gods who gifted him at birth had +overlooked the saving grace of humour. "You are always +making some kind of foolishness—you two," he said, looking +from one to the other with puzzled intensity. "But it +remains that for candlesticks or fiddlesticks, I care nothing; +and for fathers and parliaments not a great deal either. +With art it must be as with religion. To those who are +called she speaks as the Great Master to his disciples—'Leave +father and mother, leave all—and follow me.' You—Broome, +you have written books to her dictation. +You know that is truth." +</p> + +<p> +The man's ardour and sincerity were irresistible, and +Cuthbert Broome answered in all seriousness: "Yes, my +dear Martino, I know it. But like all councils of perfection +it is 'more honoured in the breach than in observance'; +except among pseudo-artists, who find it a convenient cloak +for egregious disregard of others. And in any case, a man +must be very sure of his call." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ebbene</i>—it is <i>I</i> who am sure—for Sinclair. He +doubts, because he has modesty. But give him at least one +chance to prove I am right." +</p> + +<p> +He turned briskly upon Nevil. "You will speak to that man?" +</p> + +<p> +"Rather! But I believe they have odd prejudices—these +Indians." +</p> + +<p> +Martino dismissed them with a snap of the fingers. +"You show him the sketch, my friend. It will suffice. +But when?" +</p> + +<p> +"To-day, I hope. I'm to meet them at tea-time." He +took out his watch. "By Jove, it's late. I ought to go at +once." +</p> + +<p> +"Be off, then; and bring me word to-morrow that all is +arranged." +</p> + +<p> +"I thought of asking Sir Lakshman to dine with us to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Good! Better than all. Then Martino can get in his +word—and the thing is done. Go now—and the saints +prosper you." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil Sinclair went whistling along the passage and on +down the wide staircase to the first floor. In three days his +world had grown singularly interesting and stimulating. +More than ever did he bless the house-party that had driven +him to Antibes. +</p> + +<p> +It was as Audrey had foreseen; his invitation to tea in +the verandah the day after the dance had been refused on +the score of Lilamani's shyness. Also, on that afternoon +Sir Lakshman had promised her two hours out in a boat +with himself: but he hoped Mr. Sinclair would come to +them for tea on the following day. Mr. Sinclair had +accepted with alacrity; and—Audrey being "off duty"—had +suggested a walk with her along the sharply indented +coast to the picturesque old town of Antibes, returning, as +of old, via the Lighthouse hill, highest view-point of the +headland. No word of the picture had been spoken; Martino +being too ill, for the moment, to be troubled with such +matters; and Nevil preferring to await his verdict before +taking any definite steps in the matter. Both had +thoroughly enjoyed the easy sense of comradeship, the picking +up of dropped threads, and not least the pleasant flavour of +reminiscence running through it all. +</p> + +<p> +Only when Audrey had left him to stroll awhile on the +gravel path with his cigar, did the wandering thought slip +into Sinclair's brain that there went a woman who would +make a man "sit up and do things," if she cared for him; +a wife such as Jane would surely approve, had he any +leaning toward marriage in the abstract, which he had +not. Hitherto, at all events, the modern man's dread of +responsibility and the artist's need of individual freedom +had proved stronger than any vagrant impulse of the +heart. +</p> + +<p> +Yet the impression made on him by this girl was no light +one. In many ways he found her eminently to be desired; +and now, looking backward, he wondered vaguely why he +had not fallen in love with her years ago. Nor did he +guess that other men, who also found her eminently to be +desired, had wondered the same thing without stumbling +on the discovery that, like many admirable girls of her type, +Audrey Hammond lacked altogether that indefinable +essence called charm, atmosphere. Even as a landscape at +noon fails to thrill the imagination as at sunset or dawn, so +does the clear-cut, self-complete woman of transition fail +to stir the tumultuous deeps of passion. In one respect, at +least, evolving man remains eternally the same—"it is +mystery that he chases finally, not beauty or love or any +success." Like to like is for friendship. For love—that +can lift a man's heart near to worship—the charm that +eludes, and by its very elusiveness, holds him fast. +</p> + +<p> +Not that Sinclair, even now, realized all this any more +than the rest had done; but at least it was with a glow of +satisfaction that—on entering their sitting-room—he +found Audrey alone, standing by the tea-table in broad +straw hat and cream serge coat. +</p> + +<p> +"You're not long in, then?" he said as they shook hands. +"I thought I was late." +</p> + +<p> +"You are late! So are we. Lilamani begged for another +'ride on the sea'; though the glare was terrific and it +gave her a headache." +</p> + +<p> +"She's coming in, though—I hope?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes. Are you so keen?" Her amused eyes scrutinized +his face; and in another moment the tale of the picture +would have been told. But lo, the door opened and +the living picture appeared: simplicity's self this time, in +the creamy, clinging softness of Indian muslin; only her +<i>sari's</i> hem threaded with the gold she loved. +</p> + +<p> +At sight of the tall fair man, whom she had scarcely taken +in on that bewildering evening, her head drooped delicately, +while the blood glowed under the clear olive of her cheek +and throat. For an instant it seemed as if she would turn +and fly; then Audrey's protective arm enclosed her, and +Audrey's kindly voice of decision was at her ear. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, child, and shake hands with Mr. Sinclair. You +mustn't be shy with him. He is an old friend. Almost +like my brother. I have been telling him how you love +riding on the sea in spite of glare and headaches!" +</p> + +<p> +At the magic word her smile flashed on him like a light; +and she spoke with the eager spontaneity of a child while +Audrey poured out tea. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes—yes. I love it! And to-day—it was wonderful, +past telling. No waves to ride upon; only a blue, blue +bigness and stillness, like gliding through the sky. How +could I mind a little ache of my head when my heart inside +was 'kuroo-koo-ing' like a dove in spring!" Sinclair's +smile at the pretty conceit puzzled her, and she added with +shy apology: "You know there is not any sea in Central +India where I come from. It is only since these few weeks +I have known it for the first time. When you have known +it always, perhaps it does not seem so wonderful." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed it does," he assured her. "More wonderful the +better one knows it; at least to those who have enough +imagination to wonder at anything. Audrey must let me +introduce you to my artist friend, who has been painting +it for fifteen years; and declares he would not come to the +end of it if he could paint for a hundred. Then look at +sailors, who live on it, year in, year out——" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, that would be better than all!" she broke in softly. +"I feel always I want to get out far, far, where it is all +blue, over and under; not even a trimming of land round +the edge." +</p> + +<p> +Shyness had fallen from her like a cloak. Her serious +eyes dwelt confidently upon his face. The subject, the +reassuring word "brother"—most flexible in the Indian +language—had wrought like a charm; and Sir Lakshman +Singh, entering while she spoke, had a shock of surprise and +pleasure, vaguely tinged with apprehension. +</p> + +<p> +"Glad to see you have made friends with my daughter," +he said genially as Sinclair rose to greet him. "And I hope +you will justify to her my high opinion of your country. +For her, at present, you are representing the whole English +race; which I have taught her to admire as I do myself." +</p> + +<p> +"A poor look-out for England if she's to be judged by +me!" Sinclair retorted, laughing. "The sooner I +introduce your daughter to my friend, Mr. Cuthbert Broome, +the better. I shall hardly dare open my lips to her now." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, please—please," Lilamani murmured so distressfully +that everyone laughed, and that sent the blood tingling +into her cheeks. "He was praising the sea, father," +she added, bravely ignoring her discomfiture. "He could +not begin better, could he?" The words were for her +father; but her shy glance was for Sinclair, who answered +it forthwith. +</p> + +<p> +"It's easy talking. But what will you think when I say +that my father wished me to serve my country on the sea, +and—I refused." +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head incredulously at the slab of cake she +was crumbling with nervous fingers. +</p> + +<p> +"It is hard to believe. But—how can I tell? There +might be difficulties——" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, there were—there were! One of the biggest was +that I would rather paint the sea than live on it, any +day——" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah," she looked up again, all eagerness. "You also +paint pictures—like your friend?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I paint pictures; but not like my friend. I wish +I could," he answered ruefully, scanning as he spoke the +radiantly receptive face, and wondering how he—the +"double-distilled amateur"—-dared aspire to render its +quicksilver quality in the lifeless medium of paint and +canvas. +</p> + +<p> +Yet the resolve to aspire remained; and mention of his +art having slipped in, by a happy chance, he dwelt upon it +guilefully in view of that which was to come. To Sir +Lakshman the subject was a congenial one. The two men +were soon deep in animated talk; while Lilamani sat +entranced, drinking it all in as an opening flower drinks in +sun and dew; and even taking her own small share in it +without a trace of the overwhelming shyness that had +baffled and disappointed Nevil at the start. Her +intelligence amazed him. Audrey was right. She was more than +a picture, after all; more than a child, too, it seemed, +though even now he scarce regarded her as woman. +</p> + +<p> +A memorable tea-drinking it was for all; though at the +time none guessed its significance save Nevil himself, +increasingly aware as he was of hidden depths stirred by the +wind of the spirit, that bloweth where it listeth, making +music through the children of men as the wind of earth +through an Æolian harp. +</p> + +<p> +The invitation to dinner, lightly given and lightly +accepted, the suggestion—Lilamani's—that when next they +rode upon the great deep he should come also, filled him +with a boyish exultation out of all proportion to the bare +facts; and the dinner itself confirmed his hopeful mood. +Sir Lakshman, having spoken once or twice to Broome, +and read much of his work, welcomed a chance of closer +intimacy; and Martino, mindful of the hidden houri, +plied his tongue of gold to good purpose throughout the +meal. +</p> + +<p> +But the subject of the evening was not broached till +privacy and the congenial atmosphere of the "studio" +paved the way for confidential talk. Broome had not yet +come up, and Martino was rummaging in the adjacent +bedroom for a couple of Italian studies, when Nevil took +his courage in both hands—and spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Lakshman Singh, I have a confession to make—and +a favour to ask," he said simply. +</p> + +<p> +"A confession—to me? On so slight acquaintance?" +the Indian asked with his kindly smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. It sounds odd. But, you see—it's like this——" +</p> + +<p> +A moment of tingling hesitation, then it all came out in +straightforward, boyish speech—the vision, the temptation, +the resulting sketch, and—with a fresh access of +boldness—the final aspiration fostered by Martino's praise. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman listened with contracted brows, and Martino, +returning while the tale was in progress, could scarce +restrain his good word till their guest had spoken his mind: +no easy matter for a man torn between clear vision of the +Western standpoint, and innate recoil from its application +to his Jewel of Delight. +</p> + +<p> +"I fear you will not understand me in this matter, so +well as I understand you," he said at last, courteously, yet +not without constraint; for the high-caste Hindu does not +speak of his women folk to other men. "If I were English, +doubtless I should feel flattered by your request. As it +is—well—I have allowed my daughter, for good reasons, to +break through the customs of my caste and country. But +to remove a screen is not miraculously to remove all—that +the screen implies. For the women of India the significance +of Purdah is deeper and more complex than we can ever +hope to make Westerns believe. It is ingrained in the soul +of the race. It is——" He paused, looking from one to +the other, increasingly reluctant, and all that was best in +Sinclair sprang spontaneously to his aid. +</p> + +<p> +"If the notion distresses you, Sir Lakshman," said he, +"please think no more of it. In fact—if you really wish +it—-I will tear up my sketch——" +</p> + +<p> +"By God, Sinclair, you shall do no such madness!" +Martino broke in hoarsely; then turning upon the Hindu, +twin flames in his eyes: "Sir, you do not understand what +it means for him to say that. He has in him the divine +spark. I know it—I. And beauty like that of your +daughter——" +</p> + +<p> +"Shut up, Martino, for God's sake!" Sinclair cried out, +goaded to irritability by the uncertainty that racked him, +as the artist was swift to understand. +</p> + +<p> +"Then talk no more madness," said he, with less heat. +"And at least show your work to Sir Lakshman Singh, that +he may judge if I have not right in what I say." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—yes, let me see what you have done." Repressed +eagerness lurked in the father's tone; and Nevil, too +perturbed for speech, took up his book, doubled it backwards, +and handed it to the arbiter of his Fate. For the moment, +he felt as though all things worth anything hung upon Sir +Lakshman's "Yes" or "No": and in truth more hung +upon it than either guessed. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," he said quietly; and rising, went over to +the electric light near the bed. Here he stood, with his +back half turned, considering the handiwork of this bold +young man, who could dare to reproduce his Lilamani—daughter +of his heart. +</p> + +<p> +Followed a tense silence, that would have been broken +by Martino but for an imperious gesture from his friend. +Then Sir Lakshman faced them again, his features schooled +to a composure that was far from him. "It is herself," he +said, as quietly as he had said "Thank you." "Signor +Martino is right about your gift. You must use it—use it. +But—there are other beautiful subjects; and that you +should make a living picture of—of her, for all the world +to look on..." +</p> + +<p> +"No—no, not that," Nevil interposed, and the sympathetic +understanding in his voice brought him nearer his +heart's desire than all that had gone before. "I am not +a professional. If you allow me to paint a figure study of +your daughter, I would only ask leave to show it to Signor +Martino and his friend, a noted painter in Paris; also +perhaps, to my father; because their opinions might just prove +the turning-point in my life. For the rest, the picture +remains my private property; or—if it proves worth +accepting—yours, to do with as you please." +</p> + +<p> +"Mine!" Sir Lakshman echoed in amaze. "But, my +dear sir, I, a stranger, have no right to accept your +work—that may be of value——" +</p> + +<p> +"Only in so far as it may justify my choice of a career. +If it does that, I can do no less than offer it to you as a +token of gratitude for your permission, and as a reminder +of your daughter, while she is away from you at college." +</p> + +<p> +It was a few seconds before the Indian could command +his voice; then—"You know too well how to tempt a +father, Mr. Sinclair," he said feelingly. "And I can do +no less than accept, gratefully, your offer and your gift; +unless my daughter should shrink altogether from the idea. +I would not for the world subject her to such an ordeal +against her will. But I will speak to her." +</p> + +<p> +"When?" The eager question leapt from Sinclair's +lips and eyes, and the older man smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"You are young—therefore impatient." He drew out +his watch. "If I go now, I can talk with her to-night; +then you shall have your answer the first thing in the +morning." +</p> + +<p> +"And if all's well—I could start in the afternoon?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; in the afternoon." +</p> + +<p> +"I shan't sleep for thinking of it!" Nevil declared as +they shook hands. +</p> + +<p> +But, being young, he did sleep—soundly; though +impatience waked him long before his usual hour; and, once +awake, the turmoil within gave him no rest. He breakfasted +alone with the waiters and one English girl—pretty, +and fresh-looking, clearly a lover of the morning. Then, +while the tables were filling, he paced the empty pathway +to the sea, making glowworms with his cigarette—to no +purpose. For the first time in his life the fire of genuine +enthusiasm burned in him; and he knew that until now +he had not truly lived; that now, if the chance were given +him, he could not fail of success. Like most men of the +age he had early lost the habit of prayer: but intensity +of hope and desire brought him nearer to it than he had +been for years. +</p> + +<p> +On turning for the second time in his caged-lion walk, he +sighted Audrey's grey figure at the foot of the steps, and +hurried forward. Not so she; and her smile, as she drew +near, had a touch of constraint as yet unknown to him. +</p> + +<p> +But he could not stay to consider that. +</p> + +<p> +"You have brought Sir Lakshman's consent?" he cried +in one breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she answered coolly. He had never dreamed her +eyes could look so hard. +</p> + +<p> +"And you don't approve?" +</p> + +<p> +Her straight brows went up ever so little. +</p> + +<p> +"I? Do I count at all?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you do. But still——" +</p> + +<p> +"But still—not enough to matter; which amounts to +not at all. Yet it is I who brought her here, Nevil. It is +I who am devoting my hardly-earned leave to her. Surely +you might have consulted me before making a proposal that +is bound to distract her from studies, on which I have +trouble enough to hold her attention as it is——" +</p> + +<p> +"I thought so!" Nevil cried, triumphant and quite +unrepentant. "She's not the type. And if they are +uncongenial, why press them on her?" +</p> + +<p> +"For very good reasons—that are no concern of yours," +she answered, looking him straight in the eyes. But he +wore his elation like a shirt of chain mail, and merely asked +with interest: +</p> + +<p> +"Does she mind much—about sitting to me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. She rather dreads it; I can see that. But her +father could not conceal his pleasure at the idea, and for +his sake she made light of her natural recoil from it. We +talked of it afterwards, she and I; but she begged me +not to let him know. I confess I did my best to make +her retract her consent; you may think what you please +of me. But I didn't see why my carefully thought out +plans should be put out for the mere whim of an idler——" +</p> + +<p> +He winced. "I say, Audrey, don't hit so hard. It's +more than a whim. You know that. And I do think +you're a bit selfish——" +</p> + +<p> +"Selfish? Of course I am!" she flashed out with her +formidable directness. "We're all selfish, whether we +admit it or not. It's the main motive power of human +achievement. You've as much right to yours, after all—as +I have to mine. But still—it does seem hard that +the child's studies, which are important for her and may +mean a great deal to me, should be interrupted—perhaps +upset——" +</p> + +<p> +Genuine emotion checked her, and roused at once the +natural kindliness of the man. "Aren't you making more +of it than you need, Audrey?" he asked gently, and she +drew in her lips, hiding their tendency to soften at his +tone. "A sitting every other day will do for me, and in +between you can cram as much into her as you please. +The whole thing won't take much more than a fortnight. +I'm no portrait painter; it can only be a study. Then you +can wipe me out of your sacred programme altogether, if +you choose!" +</p> + +<p> +"That remains to be seen!" she answered, forcing a +smile as she turned away. He made as if to go along with +her, but she waved him back. "You're very nice about it, +Nevil, or you wouldn't be you. But just at present I +shouldn't be good company. We'll be ready for you this +afternoon." +</p> + +<p> +"And will you ask Miss Lakshman Singh to wear that +mother-o'-pearl <i>sari</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Much ado about nothing," he mused, looking after her. +"Queer creatures women—even the soundest." +</p> + +<p> +Then he sauntered back again toward the grey rocks +and the myrtle bushes and the many-twinkling smile of +ocean, seeing visions and dreaming dreams. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0106"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VI +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Drive nature out with a fork;—she comes running back."<br> + HORACE.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Lilamani stood alone upon her balcony—her "House +of Gods," she had named it—feeling a little lost +without her private shrine dear to Hindu womanhood. +And here was a shrine indeed: roofed with turquoise of +heaven, paved with sapphire of the sea. The trees set +about its portals were rough-cut emerald and jade; and +the grey-white rocks that broke up the sapphire into foam +of diamonds—what were they? Here she was at a loss. +The rocks, it seemed, stoutly refused to be anything but +rocks; and it pleased her whimsical fancy to set this down +to the natural obstinacy of their hearts. Surely no Hindu +woman—not even the queens of immemorial times when +<i>purdah</i> was not—could have possessed a House of Gods so +richly jewelled; so vast, yet so intimate in its appeal alike +to sense and spirit. +</p> + +<p> +Here she came when the demands of her new life, or +intrusive thoughts of troubles ahead, perturbed beyond +measure that inner calm which broods at the core of Hindu +faith. And here she came now to steady herself for the +impending ordeal; accepted with joy, despite hidden +tremors, because of the gift that would gladden the father +she was so soon to lose—for a time; only for a time. +Thought of that parting she had not yet schooled herself to +face; and to-day the need of the moment eclipsed all else. +</p> + +<p> +She stood very still, as always in these mystical moods of +hers; that were, in truth, but a spontaneous surrender of +her whole being to the strong serene influences wherewith +light and colour baptize the receptive soul. To-day, from +shore line to sky line, the sea's vast breadth rose and fell +like the breasts of the blue goddess Durga in her sleep. The +very wavelets lapping against the rocks were too lazy to +laugh in foam. To her it seemed that the Gods of her +pantheon blessed her decision, and reassured her tremulous +spirit; stilling its nameless fears. She—a brave man's +daughter—who had so boldly taken the first step toward +freedom, ought by no means to shrink from the lesser +penalties involved. And she would not shrink; not even +in thought. Her father's willingness to grant so +unorthodox a favour should suffice for his child. +</p> + +<p> +The fact that this god-like young man, with threads of +sunlight in his hair and the sea's changeful laughter in his +eyes, was of an alien race, seemed to make possible that +which could else be scarce endured. For, if publicity be +thrust upon a Purdahnashin, race-distance strangely lessens +the sense of impropriety. Besides, this Mr. Sinclair—she +named him shyly—was Audrey's friend: almost her +brother. No; most certainly she would not shrink. She +would look at and speak with him straightly, even as +Audrey did. She would be calm, without and within. Not so +much as one foolish pulse should flutter— +</p> + +<p> +Then, the door-handle turned; a man's step sounded in +the room behind her; and she stood transfixed, while the +hammering of her pulses—that were not even to +flutter—filled all space. How should she face him, she—the +courageous one—who had even now commanded the waves +of the sea and believed they would obey her? What had +become of Audrey, of her father, that they had left her to +face—this, without them? +</p> + +<p> +Then—with a glad start, she recognized her father's +footsteps also. Yet could she not bring herself to turn till +he came close behind her, and spoke softly in her own +tongue. +</p> + +<p> +"Art worshipping, child?" +</p> + +<p> +"Seeking a sign, rather. And the omens be favourable!" +</p> + +<p> +Her smile was a triumph of luminous serenity; and the +man's last doubts were stilled. "It is well," said he; +adding in English: "Come, then. Mr. Sinclair is here, and +ready to begin." +</p> + +<p> +Sinclair, who had busied himself, tactfully, with colour +and tubes, came forward. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid you dislike the whole thing," he said, hoping +by frank friendliness to put her at ease. "And it makes +me feel rather like a dentist preparing to operate!" +</p> + +<p> +"I have never seen a dentist," she answered sweetly. +"And I can't tell if I will dislike it—till I've tried! But +I am quite pleased to try. It is so wonderful—" her eyes +dwelt thoughtfully upon the clean expanse of canvas. +"Nothing there now! Yet in one week, or two, I will +see my own reflection, as in a mirror——" +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I could believe that!" Sinclair was squeezing +paints on to his palette. "You shall see the nearest that +my unpractised brush can create." +</p> + +<p> +"You have the modesty of true talent," Sir Lakshman +interposed. "Show my daughter the creation of your +pencil." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil, who had not come without his treasure, put the +open book into her hands; and while she stood absorbed—fascinated +as a child might be at first sight of its own image—he +made a few preliminary strokes upon that blank canvas +which stood for him as the possible turning-point in his +life. +</p> + +<p> +It was at this moment that Audrey entered, and paused +in the doorway, watching her pupil with an odd contraction +of the heart. Never had book or dissertation of hers +brought that rapt look to Lilamani's face. Was she then, +for all her brains and courage, no true pioneer student; but +mere woman, such as India breeds by the thousand? At +least this annoying interruption might have the merit of +putting her to the proof. Here Lilamani, disturbed by the +double scrutiny, looked up; and, meeting Sinclair's narrowed +gaze, pulled her <i>sari</i> forward with the petulant +imperiousness of a spoilt child. Dignity and thought of her +father alone saved her from ignominious flight. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no—that's hard lines——" she heard Sinclair say; +and the ring of disappointment in his tone smote her +sensitiveness more sharply than rebuke. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry. I promise not to be foolish any more," she +murmured penitently, and was reassured by the support of +Sir Lakshman's arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Sit down, my child," he said tenderly, drawing her to +a chair beside the table. "Just lean on one elbow, as in the +sketch; and if you are not caring to talk, then read. Only +Mr. Sinclair must be permitted to see your face!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. That is the trouble!" she answered, flushing and +smiling tremulously, as she arranged her veil. "If I may +read, I will have my little 'Wisdom and Destiny,' +please." +</p> + +<p> +But a haunting sense of the man's concentration on her +affected her like a lantern flashed in her eyes: and Nevil, +keenly aware of her quivering sensibilities, contented +himself with as brief a sitting as might be. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman, having promised to drive with Broome, +went out, leaving an abnormally studious daughter behind +him; and Nevil devoted himself not unreadily to the delicate +task of toning down Audrey's disapproval. It troubled +his kindly nature to feel out of gear with any unit of his +world; and by way of practical conciliation he suggested +driving her into Cannes next day in the motor chartered +by himself and Broome. +</p> + +<p> +"You could leave Miss Lakshman Singh with something +to prepare for you, and it will give her a nice quiet time +for the deep studies I am so wantonly interrupting!" he +added, with an irrepressible twinkle, and had the satisfaction +of producing the double effect he hoped for. Audrey +was manifestly pleased; and Miss Lakshman Singh +looked up, an answering gleam in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Audrey knows too well that it would be Browning or +Maeterlinck or Miss Sorabji the minute her back was +turned!" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"A hopeful pupil! I don't know Miss Sorabji. But +there's a deal to be learnt from the other two—even if +it's not physics. Three o'clock suit you, Audrey?" +</p> + +<p> +"I've not accepted yet!" +</p> + +<p> +"Not? Why, your eyes said 'yes' the minute I spoke." +</p> + +<p> +"Pure conceit on your part! They merely said it would +be nice; but, in the face of Lilamani's confession, +surely—inconsistent?" +</p> + +<p> +"Therefore human! Consistency is the bugbear of small +minds; and I've always believed yours to be—quite the +reverse!" +</p> + +<p> +At that, Audrey, the self-possessed, blushed for the first +time in many years; and being awkwardly aware of the +fact blushed deeper still. "Really, Nevil, you are too +foolish for words," was all she said. +</p> + +<p> +But Nevil knew he had gained his point, and made his +peace with her, for the moment at least. "Three o'clock +sharp, then," he said as he covered the easel. "And for +you," turning to Lilamani, "Friday at the same time?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—yes." +</p> + +<p> +Her hesitancy distressed him. +</p> + +<p> +"Not unless you feel inclined, of course," he added at +once. "You've only to send me word. I shall understand." +</p> + +<p> +"Because you are so kind," she murmured shyly. "But +I have promised not to be foolish any more; and the Wise +Man, Truth-named, says that to break one's word is +'damage to Sainthood.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Well said—the Wise Man! And who may he be?" +</p> + +<p> +"He is my chosen Guru—since I left India. I found +him in Miss Sorabji's book. Some day, if the gods are kind, +I may find him in the flesh and tell him how he helped for +making me be brave." +</p> + +<p> +"I ought to thank him too for that. And, look here, +since you're so strict about promises, will you promise me +something else?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah—what?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing very terrible! Only that you and your father +will have tea in the verandah with Audrey and me when +we get back, if I engage a table right at the far end. Do!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh—but——" her startled eyes begged help from +Audrey—in vain. +</p> + +<p> +"Try it, Lilamani," said she, "and see how it feels." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well—if I must—I promise." +</p> + +<p> +And so he took his leave; well pleased, and hopeful, +though little enough had been achieved—on canvas. +</p> + +<p> +The next afternoon's programme—motoring with Audrey, +the Casino band and a turn at the tables, proved no less +enjoyable to this man of catholic tastes; though an +under-current of longing to be back at the picture that meant so +much to him, made him a trifle <i>distrait</i> during the drive, +and disposed him to talk a good deal about "that charming +child." For such was still his main view of her; and +Audrey found herself singularly ready to encourage it; +though, for a woman of her type, the encouragement of a +fallacy was as little consistent as motoring into Cannes with +a young man, when she ought to have been reading physiology +with the brand snatched from the burning. +</p> + +<p> +They went alone, Nevil being an accomplished driver; +and Broome, with ready tact, refusing the invitation that +he was clearly not meant to accept. Not that he had by +any means solved his problem yet; but that he preferred +to glean such crumbs of observation as Fate flung in his +path. The tea-party at the end of the verandah, obviously +a Fate-flung morsel, proved irresistible. Nor was he +disappointed, when, after greetings and introduction he sat +down opposite the "houri"; and—while talking to her +father—absorbed, as through a sixth sense, the essence of +her quality and charm. For to-day, she waxed "braver" +than Nevil had seen her yet; and he made good the chance +of watching her expressive face in motion while it was his. +</p> + +<p> +So it befell that Audrey soon found herself the odd +man out in the little group: a position uncongenial to all +save the speculative observer, and at the moment doubly +uncongenial to her. She had come back feeling very much +at peace with herself and the world, for no particular +reason that she knew of; except that she believed motoring +to be good for the nerves. But before tea was over, the +restless discomfort that had puzzled her yesterday afternoon +was upon her again. Not feverishness; for her blood was +cool and her pulses steady. Nor did she feel ill: merely ill +at ease; though discomfort amounted to irritation when +Mrs. Heath fluttered up with Miss Blakeney, and the +burden of making small talk for their benefit fell mainly +upon her. Even when Miss Blakeney succeeded in +detaching Nevil from "the Hindu child," Lilamani—instead +of helping—relapsed into shyness and monosyllables; for +the which she was rated severely when the two found +themselves alone again upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +"It's nonsense being so shy with two women, after talking +to Nevil so that I couldn't get in a word." +</p> + +<p> +Her tone was sterner than need be; and Lilamani listened +in wide-eyed dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"Audrey—don't call it nonsense," she pleaded. "Mr. Sinclair +is seeming to talk another kind of language—I +can't explain. Don't you understand?" +</p> + +<p> +Yes; in a measure, Audrey understood. But for the +moment she was cross, even with Lilamani, whom she +loved, in the repressed undemonstrative fashion that was +hers. So she merely said: "Of course they're less interesting. +But if you're going to be so fanciful and fastidious, we +shall never get on at all." +</p> + +<p> +To which Lilamani made answer quite gently: "I don't +like you when you're cross, Audrey; and it's nicer having +tea upstairs." +</p> + +<p> +They had it upstairs next day, and all went well. Sir +Lakshman left them afterwards, for a stroll with Broome; +and Nevil looked to a longer sitting and fuller achievement +than before. Only one item was amiss. In place of the +mother-o'-pearl <i>sari</i>, she wore the primrose and gold in +which he had seen her first. But not till he had begun +painting and charmed away her self-consciousness did he +venture any comment on the fact. +</p> + +<p> +Then he said, as if by the way: "I wonder whether you +realize that I wanted you to wear that grey and gold every +time?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I did think so," she answered, smiling. "But—it +seemed not to fit my mind to-day. You see, for me, +colours are nearly same as people. Sometimes you are +needing one, sometimes another. And if I am always wearing +the one you want, by order, it is same as if you told me +what words I must speak whenever you come!" +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven forbid!" cried Nevil, laughter in his eyes; and +she, with pretty imperiousness, tremors forgotten: +</p> + +<p> +"If you were so much—<i>zubberdust</i>* as that, I would +soon say 'no more picture'—even for father's sake!" +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Tyrannical. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Then I won't be '<i>zubberdust</i>'—whatever that may be. +I must have my picture now, at any price. But if I'm to +achieve that <i>sari</i>, I've got to see it sometimes. Perhaps +being painted will induce the mother-o'-pearl mood! What +do you think?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think you understand my silliness better than anyone—only +father," she answered simply as a child. "And I +think when I am in golden mood, or almond-blossom mood, +we might have that <i>sari</i> thrown over the sofa, to help you. +Is that good?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very good." +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I fetch it now?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no—don't trouble." +</p> + +<p> +"But it's not trouble." +</p> + +<p> +She ran lightly out; and Audrey, who had opened a +book, glanced up, frowning. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't talk too much nonsense to her, Nevil. You'll +turn the child's head." +</p> + +<p> +Her tone had an edge to it that surprised herself as much +as him; and provoked him to the retort discourteous. +</p> + +<p> +"It's <i>you</i> that are talking nonsense, Audrey. For +Heaven's sake don't say anything repressive when she +comes back, and spoil the pains I've taken to put her at +ease." +</p> + +<p> +Audrey shrugged her shoulders and went on reading; +for she—who took pride in her full command of the +emotions—dared not trust her own voice. A physical feeling +of weight on her chest unsteadied her breathing, while +the blood tingled in her veins. It was absurd—almost +degrading—that a woman of her good sense and convictions +should allow the tone or manner of any man so to disturb +her regal equanimity. Clearly something must be wrong. +If only Sir Lakshman would come back, she could go out +and walk it off. Till then—what on earth was Lilamani +doing? To-day everything and everyone seemed in league +to set her nerves on edge. +</p> + +<p> +A few seconds later the girl reappeared; and the reason +of her delay was obvious. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but I never meant you to put it all on for me!" +Nevil exclaimed in such evident delight that she laughed +softly and clapped her small hands without sound. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not mean either. It—it simply happened!" +</p> + +<p> +"Great luck—for me! The mood came?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—in touching it, I wished suddenly to wear it; +and also—I knew it would give pleasure—to you." +</p> + +<p> +Her shy hesitancy added grace to the last words; and +Audrey did not miss the softening of Nevil's eyes as he +answered: "I can't tell you how much pleasure it gives +me. But you must obey your colour-moods. I believe in +them. And I'll make the most of my chances when they +come." +</p> + +<p> +The little incident seemed magically to affect her spirits; +and Nevil drew from her by degrees a hidden store of shy, +poetic intuitions as to the eloquence and significance of +colour; a topic on which he found her far richer in ideas +than himself. +</p> + +<p> +For a while Audrey joined their talk. But the subject +was too fanciful for her taste; and soon—quite without +intention on their part—she found herself, as it were, +edged out. Again that tingling, as of red-hot needle-points +under her skin; that longing to move, to shake herself free +of this nameless something that oppressed her, body and +mind. If only Sir Lakshman would come back! +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime she did not choose to force herself into +their <i>tête-à-tête</i>; nor would she sit merely on guard, while +they laughed and talked. Quietly taking up her book, she +went out through the French window on to Lilamani's +balcony, and stood with her back to the room, while the +wind caressed her burning cheeks. Why this unwonted +irritation because Nevil, her friend, had so rapidly +succeeded in lifting a corner of the veil that Lilamani would +always wear, figuratively, with strangers, though in fact +she had cast it aside? It was so little-minded, so unlike +her normal self—— +</p> + +<p> +At this point their voices interrupted her thoughts; and +she sat down, keeping Lilamani's face in view. Nevil was +urging her to cap yesterday afternoon's courage by dining +downstairs; and Lilamani's gentle, decisive refusal soothed +Audrey strangely. But Nevil was not the man to accept +it without demur. +</p> + +<p> +"You say you are interested in the people you watch +from your balcony," he persisted genially. "Yet you don't +want to see more of them close at hand. Why?" +</p> + +<p> +The girl drew her delicate brows together. "It does +seem all wrong when you say it. But it's true—both ways. +I wonder—can I make you understand?" +</p> + +<p> +She leaned an elbow on the table; and while she spoke +Nevil's hand moved swiftly, capturing the gracious curves +of head and shoulder and arm. +</p> + +<p> +"I think it is really that I love only to watch them +all—far away down there, and plan my own tales about them. +But when they come close, they make so much noise with +talk about foolish little things that my thoughts all get +broken up, like water-reflections when you put your hand +into the tank. From the balcony I see them coming and +going. I see them talking and smiling; but their words +are never reaching me. When I like some faces very much +I watch for them to come again, and then ... sometimes +... you mustn't laugh!—I make mind-pictures of +their souls." +</p> + +<p> +"Laugh? Of course not!" The best and gentlest that +was in his own soul looked out of the man's eyes. "Do +we all carry them in our faces plainly to be seen?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no. Many do not seem to be at all. Others are +small and hidden, like pools, grown upon with weeds. But +there are some—oh some—they shine clear and still like +lakes making mirrors for sun and sky. My father's is of +that kind. Have you not seen?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—I have seen. It is good to know men like your +father, even a little. You would find a picture something +like that in the eyes of my friend Broome." +</p> + +<p> +Her face lit up. "That man I saw yesterday with gold +in his beard? Oh, yes! But his soul is all sparkling like +the sea over here." +</p> + +<p> +"Good indeed! Yet you hardly spoke to him at all." +</p> + +<p> +"My pictures come more clearly without speaking. I +told you—it interrupts!" +</p> + +<p> +"You're a white witch!" he said, laughing. "And are +all your soul-pictures of water?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. Some are sky and clouds. Some birds. Some +walled courtyards——" +</p> + +<p> +"And mine? Have you made a picture of mine? Do +tell me." +</p> + +<p> +Audrey—out on the balcony, frowned at the intrusion +of the personal note, and contemplated a return to her post, +the more so when she saw that Lilamani veiled her eyes. +But curiosity gained the day. +</p> + +<p> +"It is difficult," the girl said softly; and Nevil wished +his picture more advanced that he might catch the veiled +blush permeating the olive tint of her skin. +</p> + +<p> +"Why? Because you see it like a mud-puddle with a +star or two dropped into it?" +</p> + +<p> +"But no—no!" The imputation unloosed her tongue. +"I see it like one of those glad, quickly-moving rivers in +the hills that I am reading about in books. How shall I +truly paint it for you? There are rocks, and bending trees, +and birds—you know——" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—I know quite well. And an aimless, chattering +stream, dodging to and fro, and achieving nothing——" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no—you are unkind! I did not mean it so——" +</p> + +<p> +The tremor in her voice smote the strongest chord of his +manhood. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you didn't. Forgive my nonsense," he said +hastily. "I quite understand; and you couldn't have +painted a truer picture. Ask Audrey." +</p> + +<p> +The girl outside started; and to her relief Lilamani +sprang up with a cry of joy: "Here comes my father! +And—oh—there is someone else——" +</p> + +<p> +As Sir Lakshman entered with Cuthbert Broome, Audrey +stepped in from the balcony, determined on flight. Not +that she admitted the ignominious word into her mind. +Her ostensible excuse was shopping in Antibes; and before +starting, she—who inveighed against stimulant, except in +illness—took a dose of Lilamani's sal volatile to still the +flutter of her heart. It was bad enough owning to nerves +at all. But this haunting discomfort could by no means be +ignored; and instinctively she sought a physical basis for +most forms of mental disturbance. +</p> + +<p> +The tram, with its chattering "fares" and the prosaic +business of shopping shut out, for a space, the memory of +those two voices that had so annoyingly perturbed her: +and reduced, at last, to her normal calm, she decided to +complete the cure by a brisk walk back along the coast. +But she had not gone far before she discovered her mistake. +Unquestionably she should have been faithful to the tram. +For along this path by the sea she had walked scores of +times with Nevil, in the old days; and again only four days +earlier in simple, unthinking content. And now—— +</p> + +<p> +What folly was this that had gotten hold of her? At +each turn of the road some memory waylaid her of Nevil's +face, and Nevil's friendly presence; the sympathetic +inflections of his voice; the smile lurking always beneath his +gravest mood. Breaking wavelets whispered his name at +her feet. Sun and sky shouted it overhead. Look where +she would, his face smiled back at her, in imperturbable +disregard of her bewilderment and distress. With a dry sob +in her throat, she sank upon a rock and covered her eyes, +as if the vision she would escape came from without, not +from within. +</p> + +<p> +But the act was instinctive, merely. She knew now—and +raged against the knowledge, like a trapped beast—that +she, even she, had fallen in love. Nature, careless of +individual conviction, had wrenched the heart out of her +body, and given it to a man, who no more needed it than +she needed the pebbles at her feet: a man by no means her +match in forcefulness of purpose or of will. +</p> + +<p> +The thought burned in her till all her body seemed one +flame. What right had he to take possession of her thus, +against her will? The thing challenged her pride; her +perverted spirit of antagonism against all that man stood for in +the average woman's life. From earliest girlhood she had +taken her stand with the advanced guard of her kind; had +even presumed to despise the average woman and all her +works. And now—behold her punishment! Scorn is a +slippery weapon; apt to turn in the hand. It was the +twisted blade of her own scorn that cut most deeply into +Audrey Hammond's heart. With the inherent stoicism that +was hers, she repudiated her discovery; denied it; trampled +on it—to no purpose. Finally she rose on the decision +that at least she could conquer it—unless—— +</p> + +<p> +Again that tingling of hot needle-points in her veins. +Not even in thought would she complete her broken +sentence. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0107"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VII +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> +"There stood one with a heart in her hands: there sat another +with hers in a cage:—and the tale goes on."—HEWLETT. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +If those two first sittings had proved trying to Audrey, +they were as nothing to the later ones that followed +upon her disastrous walk by the sea. +</p> + +<p> +Whenever Sir Lakshman Singh's presence set her free, +she would find some valid excuse for slipping away to +the garden; or the piano; or better still, to spend an hour +with Madame de Lisle and her boy, whose trouble was of +a kind that her practical nature could help and understand. +This is what comes of putting one's life into the +hands of a <i>man</i>, she would reflect, by way of consolation, +whenever Monsieur de Lisle's folly and selfishness reacted +more sharply than usual upon his wife and child. But +the consolation did not strike deep, and do what she might, +the thought of the two, left in the sitting-room, knocked +incessantly at her heart. The primitive woman in +her—long repressed and denied—rose up with might and +taught her, at first hand, some plain truths that she had +little will to learn. She, who took her stand upon +self-knowledge, found suddenly that she had a stranger to +reckon with—and that stranger, Audrey Hammond. For +love, like all great natural disturbances, stirs up best and +worst alike from the deep waters of the human heart. +Had it come to this, that she was actually jealous of +Lilamani, because Nevil's eyes and mind were concentrated +upon her with increasing delight as the picture grew under +his hand? So much at least was patent; even as the change +in her—smother it how she might—was patent to Nevil. +He set it down to her original disapproval; and was +disappointed to find her so obstinate over a question settled +past dispute. +</p> + +<p> +But, for him, every minor consideration was dwarfed by +the one thing that mattered: his picture, that already +whispered of success, and the quickening sense of power +that grew by what it fed on. There was a delicate pleasure, +also, in the pursuit of an intimacy by no means to be hurried +or unduly pressed. For all her young simplicity and flashes +of confidence, this alluring child of an ancient race was still, +in his eyes, almost as much a thing apart from the common +round of life as she had seemed at first sight. Still, for +him, she was the Arabian Nights' Princess brought hither +by a kindly Fate to save him from the ambitions of others +and kindle his spark of talent to a flame. Something of this +Audrey guessed, and rated herself roundly for the relief it +brought her. It was not Lilamani, it was the picture that +enthralled him. With its completion, he would retreat to +his allegiance; and then—then—— +</p> + +<p> +But at this point the old unawakened Audrey would slam +the door sternly upon vain imaginings unworthy an +enlightened woman. +</p> + +<p> +And Lilamani? +</p> + +<p> +For her this week—charged with a hidden drama—was +a time of mental and spiritual changes the more vital +because they were evolving unawares. Nor had they any +direct relation to the studies so zealously pressed upon her +by Audrey. These traversed only the surface of her mind, +leaving few and hazy impressions in their wake. From +books more inspiring than any in Audrey's trunk she +had learnt astonishingly much for her years; and now +her hidden self whispered that it were well to learn +something of her fellow-beings direct from life; or, in other +words, from the blue eyes and golden speech of the first +white man Fate had flung in her path of life. +</p> + +<p> +All unguessed by her the folded flower of her heart was +opening, like a lotus to the moon, under an influence silent +and irresistible as that which draws petal from petal till +the shining secret stands revealed. She only knew that the +dreaded sittings had become the pivot round which all lesser +lights revolved; that the days between seemed empty and +unsatisfying; the more so, because those days were +disfigured by Audrey's battalions of the "ugly words" that +hurt her mind. "Hygiene," "oxygen," "structural +physiology": she grew to hate the sound of them; to +wonder how she would ever face those dreadful "exams," whose +mission was simply to give her a free pass back to India, as +a woman qualified to live her own life, and to help those +who could not or would not desert the beaten track. +</p> + +<p> +But what if she herself found the unbeaten one too +steep, too stony? No—no. That were mere weakness. +By some means she must attain her goal; though at present +its far-off gleam was dimmed by emotions more immediate +in their appeal to her budding womanhood than any she had +yet known. +</p> + +<p> +So it befell that she let Sinclair persuade her to join a +tea-party in the studio, where she was presented to Martino +and ravished his inflammable heart. Nay more, she +spent two evenings downstairs, losing, each time, a little of +that paralyzing shyness induced by strange human beings +in the mass. It cost her a greater effort than Audrey or +Sir Lakshman knew; and both times she had her reward. +Nevil devoted himself to her as gallantly as though he +divined that the effort had been made for his pleasure; and +Broome began to ask himself, was it, after all, not the +picture, but the "houri"? +</p> + +<p> +As for Audrey, it was useless to repeat that the craze +would pass, that there could be no possibility of serious +complications between such mighty opposites. She was in the +grip of an emotion that is deaf to reason, nor regards the +great god Common Sense, under whose banner she had lived +and moved. On the second occasion she could scarce speak +naturally to Lilamani when they reached their rooms; and +the girl, who had come up a-flutter with the thrill of her +new gladness, had gone to bed chilled, puzzled, almost +unhappy. +</p> + +<p> +So day by day the love and confidence that had been +between them were dimmed by friction and constraint; and +more trying than all—for each in her degree—were the +morning hours of study. New faces, new imaginings, and +the thrill enhancing both, estranged Lilamani more than +ever from Audrey's bone-dry discourses on conditions of +health and disease. The call of youth in her blood was ten +times more commanding than any appeal to her intellect +or ambition. Again and again, in defiance of brave resolves, +her fancy would wander off at will, while Audrey's voice, +reading or explaining, formed a sonorous accompaniment +to the airy visions of her dream. +</p> + +<p> +Audrey, meanwhile, had her own private devils to fight; +and the fact that at times they mastered her, bred a smothered +irritability that too often flashed out in sarcasm, or +sharp speech. Her pupil's increasing absentmindedness +annoyed her as never before. Nevil's doing, she could have +sworn it. Whether he were merely turning the girl's head +or disturbing her heart, some sort of veiled warning seemed +advisable. Yet she shrank from engendering by premature +speech, ideas that might never occur to this unsophisticated +child of seclusion. +</p> + +<p> +In any case the effect upon her studies was obvious. +Each morning Audrey was maddened afresh by a sense of +ploughing the sands. Each morning, when books, notes, +and pencils were put away, the mutual sigh of relief +became harder to restrain. Whenever Audrey's vexation +flashed out, Lilamani's penitence would have disarmed a +stone. But no penitence, however genuine, saved her from +relapse next day: and at last, after a week of mingled +happiness and strain, the inevitable crisis came. +</p> + +<p> +It was a day of sudden, still heat. Even the persistent +light wind of the Riviera seemed too lazy to blow. And it +is on just such balmy days that imagination, like the swallow, +soars highest into the blue; as Lilamani found to her +cost. +</p> + +<p> +To-day her mood was less rebellious than usual. She +was making an honest effort to "be good" and "attend." But +Audrey's chosen subject was not a happy one; nor +had she the art of infusing life into dead facts. Her +remarks on sick-room hygiene, illustrated by Indian experiences, +were eminently sane, eminently practical; while Lilamani +sat still as a mouse under a cat's claw, a pencil in +her fingers, her eyes on the brilliant strip of sky and +tree-tops framed by the open French windows. Vainly she +clutched at each sentence, trying not to let it slip out of her +mind as it passed; till she began to feel like a clumsy child +playing at ball, and the foolish fancy whisked her miles +away. +</p> + +<p> +For a space Audrey talked on, unaware. But when, in +the midst of a technical dissertation on invalid food-values, +a dreamy half-smile flitted across her pupil's face, the +smothered irritation of days leaped out in flame. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani, will you attend!" she cried, slapping the open +book so sharply that the girl jumped in her seat. "Have +you heard one word of what I've just said?" +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani puckered her forehead distressfully. "Oh +yes—I heard." +</p> + +<p> +"Well then—tell me what it was." +</p> + +<p> +"It was—I——" She passed a hand across her brow +as if to brush away cobwebs. "It was—oh, I forget." +</p> + +<p> +"Speak the truth, please. You never heard it at all." +</p> + +<p> +"I did <i>hear</i>—only——" +</p> + +<p> +"You weren't listening?" +</p> + +<p> +"I—I suppose not ... I was thinking——" +</p> + +<p> +"Of carbons and proteids?" +</p> + +<p> +"No ... no ... of some small verses I have been +trying to make. One had just come so beautifully; and +you've startled it away." +</p> + +<p> +"Verses? Good heavens, you're incorrigible! What +about?" +</p> + +<p> +The grey eyes probed the brown ones as a lancet probes +a wound—and they drew blood. Lilamani looked down, +saw she had scribbled a line or two, and crumpling up the +paper thrust it into her bodice. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot tell you what about, Audrey," she said, with +the gentle dignity that so well became her. "They are +only for my own private heart— +</p> + +<p> +"Don't distress yourself. I've no wish to see them." Her +tone was cold now, her face a mask. "But I have at +least the right to insist that you shall not write verses when +I am talking of far more important subjects and trying to +make them clear to you. I wonder if you've taken in +anything at all this week? Look at your notebook! Nothing +but a few incoherent scribbles. It's a disgrace! And +here—verses again——" +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani's hand covered them promptly, and she tore +out the page. "I can't help that. It's my nature," she +said with a touch of heat. "I am not meaning to write +them when you talk. They come." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear girl, don't ask me to believe such fairy-tales. +But if they do come—you must stop them coming—or I +must stop teaching you. Frankly, Lilamani, I expected +great things of you; and I am disappointed. Girls of your +race are generally such eager students—so quick with their +brains——" +</p> + +<p> +"My brain is made in another pattern—that's why." +</p> + +<p> +"It didn't seem so at first. It's all this stupid business of +the picture and seeing so many people that has turned your +head——" +</p> + +<p> +At that Lilamani pushed aside the hated books and sprang +to her feet. Tears stood in her eyes. The crimson of +anger stained her cheeks. "Oh, I am sick of these +studies—you are unkind to speak such things. I shall not hear +you. My head is not 'turned,' and the picture is not at all +stupid. It is going to be a beautiful gift for my dear father. +As for too many people—it was you that made me——" +</p> + +<p> +Her voice broke, and she hid her face from the eyes that +seemed to look through her as if she were a pane of glass. +A word, even a look of sympathy, might have worked wonders +just then. But though Audrey was not so made, she +could not see the girl thus, unmoved. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear child," she said, touching her shoulder and +speaking more gently, though scarce tenderly. "When I +'made you,' as you say, I couldn't foresee that—that things +would move so fast. You're not quite strong yet, and a +little overwrought through doing too much. That's all +the trouble really. Lie down for an hour, and I'll give +you some bromide——" +</p> + +<p> +That last was fatal. Lilamani stepped swiftly backward, +and uncovered her face. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you <i>don't</i> understand! You never do. You think +everything is from the body. This trouble is in my +soul—and you cannot cure it with any of your stupid +medicines——" +</p> + +<p> +Audrey's face hardened again. +</p> + +<p> +"No. I don't understand your behaviour," she said in +chill, even tones. "But I wish <i>you</i> to understand that if +you think medicines 'stupid' and are already sick of your +studies, they will not be forced on you by me. Give up +college and medicine, by all means—if you are prepared to +go back home and obey your mother's wishes——" +</p> + +<p> +"No—no. I will not—I will kill myself rather!" the +girl cried out with sudden passion and fled precipitately, +leaving Audrey alone by the table, angry and bewildered +as she had rarely been in all the well-regulated years of her +life. +</p> + +<p> +Her bewilderment was for Lilamani; her anger was +for Nevil, first and last. The emotion of a week, however +genuine, was no match for the sex antagonism of ten +years. "When man comes in at the window, Peace goes +out at the door," was her favourite perversion of the old +proverb anent Poverty and Love. And behold her wisdom +justified: but at what a cost! Small consolation to reflect +that she had foreseen this result of Sir Lakshman Singh's +permission. But there would be some satisfaction in telling +Nevil plainly what damage he had done to the girl whom +he obviously admired, if nothing more. +</p> + +<p> +Why not seek him out and tell him now—while she could +trust her embittered heart to hurt either him or herself with +an equal stoicism ... +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Lilamani, leaning against her closed door, a-quiver from +head to foot, heard her friend's departing footsteps, and +drew a breath of relief. Never till now had she admitted +that there lurked in Audrey some unnameable quality that +seemed to rub the bloom off everything, and crush out all +the beauty and colour of life. Whether that quality +belonged to this one Englishwoman or to all, Lilamani could +not tell. But there were moments when the prospect of a +college full of Audreys, with a Miss Blakeney or two thrown +in, seemed hardly less terrifying than the marriage from +which she had fled. +</p> + +<p> +While she leaned against the door, with closed eyes and +heaving breast, tears stole unheeded over her cheeks that +were no more on fire of anger, because anger was drowned +in shame at her own loss of self-command. Had not that +dear father—whose precepts were sacred to her as the laws +of Manu—impressed on her from earliest childhood that +only the low-born or the god-forsaken allow the red mist +of anger to darken the light within? Happy for her that +he had not seen her five minutes ago. But now, the way +being clear, she could slip softly back to her House of Gods, +and recapture the virtue she had lost. +</p> + +<p> +There sun and sea gave her greeting, and a little lazy +wind whispered of evening coolness not far off. Lying +back in her chair, she closed her eyes again, that the last of +the sunbeams might caress their lids, while the twin +healers—warmth and silence—spoke peace to her soul. Of +a sudden, in the heart of silence a sound was born: a +footstep. Well, what matter? Let it pass. But she had an +almost uncanny ear for footsteps; and this one—— +</p> + +<p> +She leaned forward eagerly: eyes wide, lips apart. Yes. +It was he, in the greenish-grey flannel suit that she always +hoped for when he came. Remembering the afternoon when +she had seen him first, she could scarce believe it was but two +weeks ago. It seemed as if it must have been another +Lilamani in another life. Yet it was indeed she, even to the +selfsame yellow <i>sari</i>: but how little she had dreamed—— +</p> + +<p> +Here came a shy thought not to be framed in words; and +she slipped past it hurriedly wondering if he would look up; +if a vision of her ever visited his mind when she was not +present? +</p> + +<p> +It was as if she had spoken aloud. He looked up at +once. For a long moment his eyes held hers, while the +blood burned in her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Then, taking courage, she waved a hand. To her amazement, +he replied by a gesture bidding her come down; and +all the natural woman in her yearned to obey. But for a +Hindu girl of good breeding, yea, though she had dared to +rebel against <i>dastur</i>, such boldness were out of the +question, even had not her quick ears heard the approach of +footsteps more familiar than his own. Shaking her head, she +leaned back out of sight just as Audrey came along the +path. +</p> + +<p> +She heard their voices at meeting; but no words. Then, +cautiously, she peeped between the balustrades, watching +unseen. He was smiling, the kind, infectious smile that +lighted all his face. But Audrey's eyes showed no +answering gleam. They wore the hard masked expression that +had grown too familiar to Lilamani in the past week. She +asked him something. He assented with raised brows; and, +turning about, they walked together down the wide pathway +to the sea. +</p> + +<p> +Then she leaned over and looked after them; looked and +looked till the tears gathered again in her eyes. What were +they talking of, those two favoured ones, free to go where +they would and with whom they pleased, while she could +only look and long and wonder—like a human bird in a +cage? Nay, her true cage had been happier, since she could +not see too plainly between the bars. For the first time she, +who so loved the land of her birth, regretted her nationality. +Of what use to give her freedom, when the dusky skin, and +all the hidden differences it implied, could no more be wiped +out than the colour of the sea! +</p> + +<p> +Sobs came thick and fast now, and fearing her father's +return from Nice, she fled blindly back to her room; flung +herself on the bed, and there let grief have its way with her. +For the passionate heart of the East slept beneath her girlish +gentleness; and already it had turned in its sleep. If there +could only have been talk of such a bridegroom—was the +stifled cry of her soul: and the next instant she reproached +herself for a bold, shameless one, to think thoughts so +unworthy of maidenhood. For this cherished daughter of +Sir Lakshman Singh was no precocious little woman, like +most Indian girls of her age; but something as near the +English type of "sweet seventeen" as the conflicting elements +of her life and education could be made to produce. And +through all her vague, chaotic misery, her thoughts clave +to those two down by the sea. What were they talking +of—what? +</p> + +<p> +Only at the sound of her father's footstep afar off did +she rise up bravely and bathe her swollen eyes. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0108"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VIII +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Love, the great volcano, flings<br> + Fires of lower earth to sky;<br> + Love, the soul-permitted, sings<br> + Sovereignly of Me and I."<br> + MEREDITH.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +And of what were they talking, those two, down by +the sea? Of what else but the girl who agonized +alone upon her bed? And Audrey, in her degree, was agonizing +also; though Sinclair was not suffered to suspect the +fact. +</p> + +<p> +Her greeting had been blunt, and to the point. She +was in no humour for softening sharp outlines. "Good +evening, Nevil. If you can spare me half an hour before +dinner, I would like a talk with you." +</p> + +<p> +It was then that he had assented smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"Delighted. My spare half-hours are of no remarkable +value. Is it anything particular?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. It's about Lilamani—and your picture." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! What of them?" +</p> + +<p> +It was then that they walked off together down the wide +path, ending in a balustrade, beyond which rough slabs of +rock fell sheer to the sea. For a moment Audrey compressed +her lips; and Sinclair, scrutinizing her profile, was +puzzled and half annoyed. +</p> + +<p> +"What's wrong with you, Audrey? You've not been a +bit the same girl this week. One could only suppose you +were still fussing over the picture and the studies and all +the rest of it. Rather superfluous, surely, now the thing's +half done. Rather hard lines, too, if I mayn't take such a +unique chance without your making a tea-cup tragedy out +of an interlude that's pleasant enough for us all, so far as I +can see." +</p> + +<p> +Audrey regarded him very straightly, without flinching. +</p> + +<p> +"Pleasant for you, no doubt; and—in a sense—for her +too. But if you will give me a chance to speak, instead, of +rating me unheard, I can prove to you that the 'tea-cup +tragedy'—which may be sufficiently serious for her, poor +child, is of your own making, not mine." +</p> + +<p> +"What d'you mean?" he asked sharply, genuine pain in +his voice. "I wouldn't upset her for the world." +</p> + +<p> +"It's not a question of what you would do, but of what +you have done." +</p> + +<p> +"Do be more explicit. You're keeping me on hot plough-shares. +She seemed quite happy when I saw her just now." +</p> + +<p> +"Saw her? Where?" +</p> + +<p> +"Looking over the balcony, a minute before you came." +</p> + +<p> +Audrey made a small sound of vexation. "I left her +lying down. But really I don't know what to do about her. +When she began to grow home-sick, I thought seeing a little +more of people might do her good. But I didn't reckon on +this affair of the picture; and now she seems quite +overwrought and unstrung." +</p> + +<p> +"And it pleases you to throw the blame on me?" +</p> + +<p> +"It doesn't please me, Nevil." Her voice softened +instinctively on his name. "The facts speak for themselves; +and it's as well you should know them." +</p> + +<p> +"Fire away, then—for God's sake." +</p> + +<p> +His impatience in no wise hurried her wonted precision +of speech, while she sketched for him in outline the week's +day-to-day difficulties, ending with an expurgated edition of +the final scene that had left her baffled for the moment, and +deeply disquieted as regards possible results. To Nevil's +half-knowledge the way out appeared sufficiently plain. +They had reached the balustrade, and he brought his hand +down on it with decision. +</p> + +<p> +"I told you before, Audrey, she's not the type. That +girl has the temperament of genius. I suspect her verses +might be worth seeing. But as for trying to cram her brain +with hygienics and physiology, you'd both be better occupied +in trying to reach the moon." +</p> + +<p> +Audrey bit her lip. "I am beginning to be afraid that's +true. But—if you remember, Nevil, I told you also that +these studies were of special importance to her; and now—it +seems high time to convince you of the fact by telling +you plainly what she came to England to escape." +</p> + +<p> +"Escape? What was that?" +</p> + +<p> +He spoke rapidly, almost under his breath. All the +laughter had gone out of his eyes, that looked steadily +seaward, and continued so to look, while Audrey—in phrases +deliberately blunt and bald—told him the story that she +hoped might disgust him a little; that must, at least, force +him to recognize that gateless barrier of race, caste, and +creed that divided him from this alluring yet antipodal child +of the East. +</p> + +<p> +The story was no easy one to tell. Only a conviction that +her duty to both demanded plain speech, and a secret hope +that his leaning toward sentiment might be checked in time, +gave her strength to carry it through. +</p> + +<p> +She drew an unvarnished picture of the conservative, +priest-ridden Hindu mother, who, ever since Lilamani's +fourteenth year, had urged betrothal, if not marriage, without +avail. She told him of the bridegroom—wealthy, elderly, +dissolute—finally brought forward by the Guru, to whom +doubtless great gifts had been promised by the husband-elect +if the transaction were carried through with success. She +spoke of Lilamani's rebellion; of the nerve-shattering +struggle which had ended in collapse. And at that the man +could control himself no longer. +</p> + +<p> +"Good God!" he muttered between his teeth, but without +looking round; for the which she was grateful. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it seems incredible to us," she answered quietly. +"Yet you know next to nothing of what such a marriage +would mean for a girl so indulged by her father, so sensitive +and fanciful as Lilamani; and even I know little enough. +Happily for her Sir Lakshman is as brave as he is +broadminded. But for his championship she could never have +stood out against the combined authority of family and +religion. He himself, when he called me in, was fairly +desperate; or he might not have agreed so readily to my bold +suggestion. But he did agree; and after a fresh struggle +we three gained the day." +</p> + +<p> +"Well done, Audrey!" he cried, looking full at her for +the first time. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of stern repression her heart throbbed at his +praise, and she smiled. "I'm glad you think that, Nevil. +It may help you to realize something of my feelings this +week in seeing what I believe to be her one chance of +freedom slipping from under her. The ordinary hotel-folk +would probably have disturbed her very little. But talk +with men like you, Mr. Broome, and Signor Martino +over-stimulates her imagination, her emotions, which must be +subordinated to her brain and commonsense if she is to +stand on her own feet when her father and I go back to +India. Surely any studies, however uncongenial, are better +than her only alternative—an ignominious return to the +arms of a dissolute, bigoted bridegroom. Not that I think +she would go. This afternoon, when I was driven to speak +of it, she said: 'I would kill myself rather.' Indian women +are like that; and I firmly believe she spoke the truth." +</p> + +<p> +"Good God!" the man broke out again. "It's downright +brutal that a sensitive white-souled girl should be so +tormented——" His voice near failed him; but he steadied +it, and went on: "What are you going to do about it, +Audrey? Speak to her father——?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know. I haven't had time to think. Most +likely I shall urge her to speak to him herself. The +understanding between them is singularly perfect; and he may +feel less baffled than I do by her deplorable change of front. +But it's useless for you and me to discuss possibilities. I +merely felt you ought to know; and now——" She consulted +her wrist-watch. "I must hurry back. I shall be +late for dinner. Are you coming in?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not yet. You've given me too much to think about. +But I'll see you to the hotel." +</p> + +<p> +"Please not. I'd rather be alone. I have a good deal to +think about, too. But it's close upon dinner-time, you +know." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it? Good night. You're a brick, Audrey; and I'm +a worthless good-for-nothing. Forgive me if I've made +things harder for you—or her." +</p> + +<p> +To that she had no answer save: "Good night": and +he, wringing her hand, turned down the lesser pathway that +winds among shrubs of myrtle, cytisus, and olive toward that +rocky promontory from which the hotel takes its name. +</p> + +<p> +Flat and tapering, free of sun and wind, with its carpet of +sea-lavender and scarlet-leaved mesembryanthemum; its +cushions of myrtle and lentisk; its grey-green clumps of aloe +and fringe of rugged white rocks—the Cap d'Antibes +reaches farther out into the Mediterranean than any other +headland of Southern France. To sit near its peak at +dusk—with all the coast behind one, looking away to the +Esterelles and hidden Corsica, is almost to believe oneself on a +steadygoing vessel in mid-ocean. +</p> + +<p> +As Nevil Sinclair strode rapidly toward this haven of +solitude, the fires of sunset were ebbing from a sky tenderly +rippled with light cloud, that threw into sharp relief the few +outstanding features of the Cap. Here a lone umbrella-pine +made a bold smudge of sepia on the delicate pallor beyond; +there the crescent-topped outline of a spurious Moorish +archway—remnant of some forgotten folly—was bitten +out sharp and clear. Farther on, from a black mass of +building and bushes the little lighthouse reared its head; +and farthest of all, the skeleton of a dead aloe-flower, +upspringing boldly from its nest of jagged leaves, was etched +as with a fine-pointed pen upon the darkening sea. +</p> + +<p> +Mechanically, the artist's eye noted every detail of the +picture, even while brain and heart seethed with such an +exalted mingling of rage and rapture as he had never known; +a white heat of chivalry that burnt up in its pure flame +mere accidents of race and creed; that bade him, at all +hazards, snatch this heavenly-sweet flower of girlhood out of +the impasse for which he was in a measure responsible. +</p> + +<p> +Blessed Fate that had brought her to him! Not that he +might paint her merely; but that he might save her from a +degradation worse than death. Audrey, plucky Audrey, +need not trouble her head about ways and means. He—Nevil +Sinclair—would be the god out of the machine. +This pearl of womanhood—who had awakened his talent +no less than his heart—should not die, but live—and give +herself to him. For he could win her; some inner voice +assured him of that, even while he marvelled at his own +arrogance. The divine intoxication that had put a new song +in his mouth, blinded him to the hundred and one prosaic +obstacles that hovered outside the charmed circle of his +dream, biding their time. He could have shouted aloud in +triumph, there alone with the darkening sky and sea. This +was something altogether different from earlier sentimental +adventures. So lightly, in his unawakened ignorance, had +he taken the name of Love in vain. +</p> + +<p> +One only problem puzzled him. Why had he not discovered +the truth until to-day? From the first she had so +enthralled his imagination; so satisfied his taste for all that +was rare and beautiful. Yet her tender years, her +impalpable aura of grace and purity had made her seem a +being set apart from the rough and tumble of common life; +and always absorption in his picture had stood between him +and personal thoughts of her. +</p> + +<p> +But to-day in that direct contact of spirit with spirit, the +divine ray had passed between them. They had touched the +electric force that vivifies the world and hurls it spinning +through the spheres. Then, in that moment, he had first +seen her as woman—the one woman, preordained to be his +own; brought to him by Fate, in the teeth of opposing +circumstances across six thousand miles of sea. Striking +sharply upon this revelation, Audrey's story—that was to +have disenchanted him—or at least checked sentimental +impulses—had wrought the very opposite effect. The rage +it engendered sprang, not from chivalry alone, but from the +consuming jealousy that is twin-brother to passion. He had +scarce known how to control himself, to hide his secret, as it +must be hid till he could win speech of his beloved alone. +</p> + +<p> +And here the first prosaic obstacle reared its head. The +thing seemed impossible of achievement. But their destiny +was assured; and somehow, somewhen, it must come to pass. +If matters looked too hopeless, he could always write, or +speak first to her father. But neither alternative was to +his taste. It was she to whom he should first tell the +secret, that he might watch the rose of her heart blossom +in her cheeks, that lamp of her pure spirit lighten in her +eyes.... +</p> + +<p> +At this point he found himself far out among the last of +the broken rocks, whitely fringed with foam. Here he sat +him down, lit a cigar and gave himself up to his fairy-tale, +while the sky changed imperceptibly from grey to indigo, +the stars from silver to gold; and the half-moon, high in +the east, took on her borrowed robe of light. +</p> + +<p> +Appetite rather than hunger whispered of dinner that +by now must be half over. But in his present mood he +was loath to face the heat and noise of the crowded +dining-room and the penetrating eyes of Cuthbert Broome. +He would go in when it was over, and get a plate of +something from his friend the head-waiter; and avoiding the +studio, make straight for his own room. In the meantime, +his cigar—while it dulled the edge of the body's need, +enhanced his mood of dreams, his visions of a purely +Bohemian life with this Jewel of Delight here in the glowing +South or among the Italian hills. Only let Martino praise +the picture he was to see to-morrow, and he, Nevil, would +devote himself in earnest to the art that, but for her, might +have withered and died in him unrecognized, unfulfilled. +Henceforth her temperament of genius would be as oil to +the flame of his new-lighted lamp. He would not take her +home, or subject her to the ordeal of family disapproval; +with a throb of exultation he perceived how completely such +a marriage would exonerate him from the rôle of politician +and landed proprietor that had hung over him like the +sword of Damocles for seven unfruitful years. +</p> + +<p> +And Jane? +</p> + +<p> +He smiled to himself in the darkness at thought of her +impotent wrath. But his father's wrath—tinged with +bitter disappointment—was another affair altogether. For +Nevil—primarily the child of his mother—seemed to have +inherited also her indelible tenderness toward the stolid, +obstinate, good-hearted man, who had so little true affinity +with either wife or son. This same tenderness that had +kept him loitering at the cross-roads, surged up in him now +and threw the first shadow across his enchanted garden of +dreams.... +</p> + +<p> +It was close on ten when he ran up the hotel steps on to +the balcony-verandah. The hall was nearly empty, and +waiters were putting out the lights. He went straight to +the restaurant, unearthed a plate of cold tongue and a bottle +of Burgundy; asked if there were any letters, and was +presented with an envelope addressed in the square, +uncompromising hand of Lady Roscoe. +</p> + +<p> +"Damn," said he softly; and pocketing the missive, went +upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +Once in his room, he sat down by the small table that +held his books, manuscript, and painting gear. "Now for +Jane's hydrostatics!" he mused, slipping a penknife under +the flap. It was her answer to his own first letter, giving +chapter and verse for his impulsive flight abroad; and +through the curt, vigorous phrases he could hear his sister's +familiar tone. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"My dear Boy,—You bolted. That's the plain truth, +stripped of lame excuses. But my party isn't coming off +after all. So you can safely take the next express home! +In fact, you must come and do your duty at the election +like a man. You should have heard Lord Shandon's +inquiries after you the other night. Polite, of course—he +wouldn't be otherwise to <i>me</i>—but scathing. That I +should live to hear a brother of <i>mine</i> called 'shirker'—even +by implication! But what do you care for our good +name? So long as the sun shines and there's a yard of +blank canvas in the market, the dear old Place might go +down before the auctioneer's hammer and I might take in +washing without your turning a hair. Why I was allowed +to be the eldest, and yet not a <i>man</i>, passes my comprehension. +All I can do is to try and hammer you into the outward +semblance of a Sinclair. Little enough use! But it's my +duty, and the word carries weight with <i>some</i> of us. +</p> + +<p> +"If you've an ounce of right feeling or affection for the +dear old Dad, you <i>ought</i> to be at home this spring. I don't +quite know what's wrong with him, and he refuses to +consult Dr. Ransome. He seems just irritable and restless +and out of spirits. Not like himself, in fact. Business +worries, I fancy, from something Thornbrook said the other +day about the estate. But I'm sure it would give him a +fillip to have you at the Place for a few weeks, and to feel +he had a personal stake in the election. So just pocket your +artistic selfishness, and wire 'Coming' to my town address. +Don't give yourself time to haver and change your mind. +Remember I <i>expect</i> you. So it's <i>au revoir</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + "Your affectionate sister,<br> + "JANE ROSCOE."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Damn!" her affectionate brother remarked again—not +softly this time—flinging the sheet from him as if it burnt +his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +Then, rising, he paced the room in a turmoil of +conflicting wrath, indecision and dismay. Here was no +shadow, but a bomb flung ruthlessly into his enchanted +garden. Jane and her exhortations went for nothing. But +the poor old man, worried and out of spirits—that was +quite another matter. The inherent impulse of tenderness +tugged at him; and, but for the tone of Jane's letter, might +have overruled "artistic selfishness," for all the chains that +bound him, and his recoil from the prospect of three or four +weeks at Bramleigh Beeches alone with Sir George in his +present mood. +</p> + +<p> +The first warmth of greeting over, he would probably +be sworn at, and certainly bored to extinction by the old +futile effort at playing good comrade to the father with +whom he had nothing in common save the mysterious tie +of blood and their unspoken allegiance to her who was +gone. For, even when Nevil exasperated him most, the +stubborn heart of Sir George clave to the son who spoke the +language of his dead wife, and smiled upon him with her +eyes. A sore point, this last, for Jane who, in secret, +sympathized acutely with the immaculate elder brother in +the parable. For her, the loyal, the ever-present, neither +fatted calf nor feasting. But for Nevil, the defaulter——. +Eyebrows and shoulders, mutely eloquent, implied the rest. +</p> + +<p> +Could she have witnessed his present perturbation, she +might have admitted a rudiment of conscience in his +spiritual anatomy. Certain it is that, in the face of such a +call, his picture alone would not have held him back. +But—there remained Lilamani; her possible love for him; +and the cruel alternations between which she stood. +</p> + +<p> +So half the night long he agonized and deliberated over +the age-old problem—that loses no whit of its tragedy +through repetition—how far a man is constrained to cripple +the fulfilment of his own life and love, out of respect for +his father's wishes. Can filial duty condemn a son to live +unhappy that his father may die happy? All the undiluted +Nevil in his blood cried out, No, a thousand times. How, +then, if he went home immediately for a week or two and +thrashed out the whole matter with his father once for all? +A few days earlier such a step had been conceivable, if +uncongenial; but now—on the eve of his divine discovery—! +No, again. +</p> + +<p> +Should Lilamani prove indifferent, or marriage with an +Englishman beyond the pale of possibility, time enough then +to think of fathers and of flight. For the present two events +only filled all his horizon: Martino's verdict, and Lilamani's +answer. On the morrow a wire should speed homeward: +"Immediate return impossible. Writing"; nor would he +put pen to paper till his fate was sealed. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0109"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IX +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Oh, the little more, and how much it is!<br> + And the little less, and what worlds away!<br> + How a sound can quicken content to bliss,<br> + Or a word suspend the blood's best play—<br> + And life be a proof of this."<br> + BROWNING.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +For all her decision of character, Audrey Hammond +fell asleep that night in a painfully unsettled frame of +mind. Obviously Lilamani's story had shocked and perturbed +Nevil Sinclair in no small degree. But to what end, +or with what probable result? +</p> + +<p> +Heavy-laden with pain and perplexity, she had stood +watching him as he strode away from her toward the Cap, +secure in the bitter certainty that he would not dream of +looking back; and upstairs, in their sitting-room, fresh +perplexity had been her portion. In place of the passionate +girl she had left, behold a smiling, faintly-repressed +Lilamani, who, after dinner, read to Sir Lakshman from her +favourite "Wisdom and Destiny"; discussing with him—in +her quaintly poetic turns of phrase—the roots of +happiness and the hidden springs of peace, as though the +storm of two hours earlier had never been. In the +circumstances, Audrey had thought well to bid her good night +without their occasional after-talk over the day's events. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever conclusions the girl had arrived at were best +slept upon before being submitted to the test of speech. +</p> + +<p> +Not till she began setting out her books next morning +did Audrey broach the subject. +</p> + +<p> +"Does this mean you have thought better of yesterday, +child?" she asked smilingly; and Lilamani bowed her +head. +</p> + +<p> +"I was too much mistaken," said she, still looking down +and twirling a pencil between fingers and thumb. "My +father's heart cannot be hurt just for the wandering of my +brain. So please not say any more, Audrey. I will try +to keep my thoughts in chains. But if I am still +stupid—perhaps—some small punishment——" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear girl! I may have been impatient with you, +but I draw the line at battering medicine into your head! +We can try again, and see how things go." +</p> + +<p> +They did not go brilliantly that morning. Though +Lilamani zealously held her "thoughts in chains," and +Audrey was patience incarnate, each was aware of an +invisible "Something" between them that made for division. +Lunch ended, Audrey excused herself on the plea of a +promised outing with Madame de Lisle: and Nevil, arriving +well ahead of his time, was relieved to find father and +daughter alone. +</p> + +<p> +They also were to have their first sight of his picture +to-day; an event made ten times more significant by his +newly-awakened passion. For the moment, artist and +artistry were eclipsed by the natural man's eagerness to +gauge her share in the divine discovery. +</p> + +<p> +At the first meeting of hands and eyes he knew himself +predestined victor: knew that the shy, virgin heart of her +was astir, if not yet awake; and gloried in the privilege, +that would be his, of revealing to her, by tender and +delicious degrees, the golden secret that gleams at the core of +life. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime he must curb imagination, and sun +himself in the twofold triumph of the moment. For it +was no less than a triumph to lift the embroidered curtain +from his canvas, to watch the dawn of wonder and delight +in the faces of those two, who had, in so short a space, +become the nucleus of his world. +</p> + +<p> +To Lilamani it seemed that she beheld her very self +leaning there upon the balcony's edge, looking away out of +the picture with uplifted eyes, wherein—oh, miracle of +miracles!—she caught reflected glimpses of her own most +hidden thoughts and dreams. Tint of skin, sheen of <i>sari</i>, +all her tender curves of budding womanhood, were rendered +with an astonishing delicacy and truth. For if Sinclair's +pencil had wrought excellently, his brush had verily been +inspired; so that he himself stood amazed; marvelling +helplessly—as every true artist marvels more than once in his +life—how the thing had come about, and whether he could +ever hope to touch so high a point of excellence again. +</p> + +<p> +Before Sir Lakshman could find voice, Nevil had found +Lilamani's eyes, that gazed on him with a young, unveiled +adoration; and even as her whole face lit up in response +to his smile, Sir Lakshman spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Mr. Sinclair—it is many times more wonderful +than I was imagining. Almost, to me—she lives and +breathes." Then, drawing Lilamani nearer, he looked +steadfastly from counterfeit to reality, till the colour +flooded her face. +</p> + +<p> +Nevil took a deep breath to steady himself, and heard his +everyday voice make answer: "Honestly, I believe it's +good; and I'm delighted that it pleases you. If only +Martino, the hypercritical, thinks half so well of it——" +</p> + +<p> +"That he will, beyond doubting: and then——?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh then, there shall be no more havering. All along +I have looked on this picture as the touchstone of my talent. +So you see"—his glance dwelt a moment on the girl, +rejoicing in the swift warmth of her cheek—"it has been +yours to decide the question of my career!" +</p> + +<p> +"If that means I am deciding you to paint more pictures, +and always more," she answered, plucking at the border of +her <i>sari</i>, "then I am—glad." +</p> + +<p> +"It does mean that; if Martino approves," said he: +and, Sir Lakshman, glancing from one to the other, felt a +sudden twinge of apprehension that impelled him to draw +his child away from this magnetic young Englishman, and +set her down in her usual seat. +</p> + +<p> +Then he turned to Sinclair. "You are wishing, perhaps, +to do some work before they come?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think not, to-day." He covered his canvas with a +smiling glance at the original. "I feel too restless. +Besides—it would be a pity to risk superfluous tinkering, till +I've heard what Broome and Martino have to say. They'll +be here early, I know. And that reminds me—a very old +friend of mine, a Mrs. Despard, who arrived yesterday, +begged to come too. She's always been keen for me to take +up painting in earnest. So you can imagine my news +pleased her. Hope it wasn't very cool of me to invite her?" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear sir, any friend of yours must be welcome +to us. Despard—you say? I must have known some +relation of hers in India." +</p> + +<p> +"Probably her husband. A civilian somewhere down +your way. Had to retire not long ago on account of +heart-trouble, poor chap. But Mrs. Despard was out there +a good many years, and is naturally interested to meet you +and your daughter." +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman's smile had a hint of scepticism. "That +does not always follow. Anglo-Indians are of many kinds, +and many minds. Not all are so wide-hearted as to break +through the official shell that checks intimacy with the +native of the country; less than ever, strange to say, if he +shall show any taste for ideals or education of the West. +But, as I said, there are many exceptions——" +</p> + +<p> +"And Mrs. Despard is one," Sinclair broke in warmly. +"They live quite close to us at home. She and I have had +endless talks about India and its peoples; her favourite +subject. There's no question about how she will feel +towards you and your daughter; or I assure you I would +not have asked her up." +</p> + +<p> +"That I should have known. I think it is they who are +coming now." +</p> + +<p> +It was so: and three minutes later Lilamani looked upon +the one daughter of England destined to love and +understand her, from the moment of meeting; while her own +soul—young, ardent, steeped in poetic fancy—was bowed +down in worshipful admiration before this lissome slip of +an Englishwoman, whose delicate-featured face, with its +softly shining eyes, was crowned with a mass of dull gold +hair, through which ran threads of fire. A clinging gown +of tussore silk, finely embroidered, such as Audrey never +wore; and old lace at her throat—where an aquamarine +pendant hung from a silver chain—completed a picture +distinctive enough to impress brains and hearts less susceptible +than those of a Hindu girl of seventeen. +</p> + +<p> +And she, scarce waiting for Sinclair's introduction, swept +toward the shyly smiling creature in the mother-o'-pearl +<i>sari</i>, and took the slender hand in both her own. +</p> + +<p> +"Welcome to Europe," said she in a voice of singular +sweetness. "How brave and wise of you to cross 'the +black water!' And how lucky for my friend, Mr. Sinclair, +that he happened to be here at the time!" +</p> + +<p> +"Greatly I hope it is," Lilamani murmured with a +fervour that even shyness could not quite subdue. +</p> + +<p> +"And I am sure it is!" the other declared, as she turned +to greet Sir Lakshman, who was shaking hands with Broome. +</p> + +<p> +Then, while the four fell into friendly talk, Martino +plucked Sinclair by the sleeve, and, with an impatient jerk +of his head, signified his wish to have done with superfluities +and come at the real thing. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani, watching them covertly through the curtain +of her lashes; saw them move towards the easel; saw Nevil +Sinclair fling back the covering as before. Then—her +heart leaped at the light that flashed in Martino's eyes. +With an inarticulate grunt he stepped back a space, and +stood so, looking, looking, and still looking, while the other +two hurried forward, eager to see that which had smitten +the volcanic Martino dumb. +</p> + +<p> +Greater triumph Nevil Sinclair could not have desired: +yet was there pleasure almost as keen in Broome's curt +tribute: "Good Heavens—what a likeness!" +</p> + +<p> +The words seemed to rouse Martino. His eyes flashed +again. +</p> + +<p> +"Likeness?—Sapristi! It is interpretation." Then he +swung round on Nevil. "Your handshake, <i>amico mio</i>. +No further doubts now—is it? I—Martino—salute +the inspired artist!" the which he did with a grip of steel. +"Pity it cannot be shown. But after this—you are +pledged. There must be others." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope to Heaven there may be," Nevil answered, +overwhelmed. "But the thing's not done yet. There must be +faults; room for improvement. It's criticism I want, man. +You know that." +</p> + +<p> +Martino's vigorous nod signified fullness of understanding. +"The last infirmity of the true artist—no? <i>Ebbene</i>, +you shall have it—without sparing. For by all the saints +in the calendar your work is worth it." +</p> + +<p> +So they two, regardless of the rest, plunged into their +private jargon of tones and values and the critical nature of +those last touches that may spoil the whole: while the rest, +being human, gravitated to the tea-tray, that wooed them +with gleam of polished plate and delicate tints of <i>petits fours</i>, +ordered daily by an indulgent father for his daughter's +special delectation. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Despard, increasingly drawn towards this child of +the <i>purdah</i>—who seemed, yet, so fully a woman—laid a +friendly hand on her as they sat down. +</p> + +<p> +"When I talked of Mr. Sinclair's luck just now, I had +no idea that you had actually done for him what he has +failed to do for himself in the last seven years. I am one +of the few who have always urged him to follow his natural +bent in earnest; undutiful though it might seem! Between +money and position, one feared he would never achieve +anything. But now—through you—he has found himself. +And I can't tell you how delighted I am!" +</p> + +<p> +Neither could the girl—with eyes demurely intent on +three carnations at her breast—tell this angel of the golden +halo how delight unspeakable sang within her like a hidden +bird. She could only answer in the same low tone: "You +are mistaking. It is not I. It is Mr. Sinclair who has +done all." +</p> + +<p> +Then, because the room was large, and the two behind +the easel and the two on the hearthrug much engrossed in +their own talk, she drew from her new friend, by a shy +question or two, more of Nevil Sinclair's home and history +than she had yet heard; till he himself joined them and the +rest followed suit. +</p> + +<p> +Seldom had there been so festal and frivolous a tea-drinking +in the quiet sitting-room, mainly dedicated to study +and art. Martino's triumph brimmed over in a fireworks +display of his quaintly characteristic English, whenever he +could command the field; and Mrs. Despard glowed openly +when the East was her theme. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman, stirred alike by her beauty and enthusiasm, +cast aside, for once, his mask of polite reserve. He spoke +frankly, warmly, on the subject that lies nearest the heart +of all thoughtful Indians in this our day of agitation and +transition. His zealous championship of British rule, and +fervent belief in ultimate concord between "mother and +eldest daughter," woke an answering echo in the hearts of +two, whose fate hung upon his readiness to give personal +proof of the faith that was in him. +</p> + +<p> +But it was Mrs. Despard alone who voiced her approval. +"If only there were more men of your mind on both sides," +said she, and her smile was in itself a reward, "how much +disastrous friction we might have been spared all round. +But though you are in a minority, it is you, and men like +you, who may end in saving the situation, unless we +ourselves—or those who misgovern us—bring the whole +Empire crashing about our ears!" +</p> + +<p> +"May the Great God forbid such calamity!" Sir +Lakshman spoke with unusual warmth. "Yet, my dear +lady, because I have shown you all the good feeling that +is in my heart for that England who made India what she +is, you must please not to misjudge me in respect of my +own country. You must believe that I am as zealous for +her welfare as any Bengal agitators or inflammatory news-writers, +who, in blind perversity, are trying to break up the +only influence which can make possible that national unity +they cry for, among the Indian peoples. It is only that I +see one manner of welfare: they another. In my belief—and +I am sharing it with scores of men better than myself—no +worse harm could befall to India than that Great Britain +should cease to be paramount power. But only this—in +order for being paramount she must be, in best sense, a +power; not mere figure-head or rash experimentalist, shifting +now to this foot, now to that. Even in your own Book is +it not written, if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who +shall prepare themselves for battle?" +</p> + +<p> +"Who, indeed?" the daughter of England assented +ruefully. "And of late years the sound has been less +imperious, less inspiring than it should be if we are to hold +our own." +</p> + +<p> +"Unhappily—yes. I cannot help but agree. It is not +that I am disloyal, as you know. It is that we are +troubled—we Indians, who believe in England's power—to see +how such a great land is seeming to lose grasp on those +noble ideals of straightforward strength and courage that +we learnt in early days to couple with the name of the +British Raj. Trouble it is also to see how blessings of +enlightenment and patriotic feeling are now made weapons +against her supremacy, that she won by those ideals, and +cannot keep except through the same. Let us hope it is +only by appearance that she is losing hold on them; that the +true England, yes, and the true India, may wake up and +grasp hands together before it is too late." +</p> + +<p> +"Hear, hear!" was echoed by all: then Martino thrust +in his oar again, and the talk became general. +</p> + +<p> +Only Nevil, the ready of tongue, had singularly little to +say. For if Lilamani found her private ecstasy hard to +conceal, her lover was in much the same case. The hearts of +both were too full for speech of any kind. But though the +door of the lips be locked, there are windows through which +the hidden self looks forth. The girl—a little startled by +her own emotions—kept her windows veiled. Not so the +man. Transported beyond pedestrian counsels of prudence, +he could not withhold his eyes from her face and form. +Neither could he compel hers to meet his own. Primitive +instinct whispered that that way danger lay. But Nevil +was in no mood to be baulked; and now that general +conversation was in full swing again, he boldly drew a chair +up close to her, and spoke under his breath. +</p> + +<p> +"I know you are almost as glad as I am. But I want +above everything to hear you say so." +</p> + +<p> +The flagrant lover's folly of it, and the dawning sense of +her woman's power to give and to withhold brought her +heart thrilling into her throat. +</p> + +<p> +"If you know it, that is enough. The rest is only nonsense!" +</p> + +<p> +"It's not. It's truth, serious truth. I——" he checked +himself, realizing that this was no moment to unveil the +shining secret. "Well, to-day I've a right to be foolish!" +he added more lightly. "And you might do what I ask. +Just to please me." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, if you make it like that, I could not be so +discourteous. And ... I am glad that your success has +come ... through my picture: much more than I could +say. So it is no use trying." +</p> + +<p> +Her shifting colour, and refusal to meet his gaze, pricked +him to further boldness. He knew, and gloried in the +knowledge, that—by every means of mute confession given +to woman—this girl was showing the very truth she strove +to hide. Never before had he been quite so close to her; +and the fresh, faint scent of sandalwood that pervaded her +went to his head like wine. Once get the whole party +down into the garden, and he could trust himself to contrive +some flying chance of speech. +</p> + +<p> +He set his hand on the tea-tray's rim within an inch of +her own, and noted how her glance travelled from one to +the other while he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"It is just because this has come ... through you, +that it means so much to me. I never dreamed how it +would be when I had the audacity to begin. But I want +one thing more to complete my great day. Can you +guess?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." The full lower lip was indrawn demurely, and +an uplift of her lashes revealed laughter in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps you don't want to hear!" he challenged her +with increasing boldness. +</p> + +<p> +"That is quite possible! All the same ... you will +tell it!" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I shall. And you will grant it." +</p> + +<p> +"That is not at all so sure." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but it is. I want to end with a walk down by the +sea ... all of us. I've not bothered you much about +coming down these few days. But I want this immensely. +Will you come?" +</p> + +<p> +She drew in a quick, startled breath as if he had touched +her. "No—no, please. Not to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"And why not to-day?" +</p> + +<p> +His voice took a deeper note that filled her with nameless +fear both of herself and him. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot tell," she whispered, glancing instinctively +towards her father, who was too absorbed in his subject to +be aware of the magnetic young Englishman's latest move. +"Only ... it has been very wonderful ... for me also; +and I am wanting to be alone with it all, in my House of +Gods, for sunset time. Please understand." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm doing my best," he said ruefully. "But still—it's +unkind to disappoint me, and spoil everything." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, <i>don't</i> say that! It hurts——" +</p> + +<p> +Her hand went to the carnations at her breast, as if +indicating the point of pain; and that small gesture took the +sting out of refusal and disappointment alike. +</p> + +<p> +"Not enough to make you say 'Yes'?" +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, then ... to-morrow? You shall ride on the sea +in my boat. Your father shall come, and Mrs. Despard, +and Broome. There now! In common decency you can't +say 'No' again." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I can only say 'Yes'! If father will come." +</p> + +<p> +"Promise!" +</p> + +<p> +"How unbelieving you are! I promise." +</p> + +<p> +Before he could answer, Sir Lakshman had become aware +of them; and the hand he laid on his daughter's arm had a +movement, as though he would draw her away. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Despard is suggesting a walk now it is cooler; and +I have agreed. Do you feel inclined?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Sinclair was just asking that same!" the girl +answered with admirable composure. "But I said ... not +to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"She has promised to come out in my boat to-morrow, +instead," Nevil hastened to add—unaware, as yet, of hidden +antagonism. +</p> + +<p> +"Only if you would like it, father," from Lilamani, in a +note of irresistible eagerness. +</p> + +<p> +"Decidedly, I should like it; and there is good chance of +my being free, unless a heavy mail comes in. But then, no +doubt, Miss Hammond could go. I would not like you +to lose a ride on the sea." +</p> + +<p> +Broome and Mrs. Despard accepted readily: but Martino, +who worshipped the sea as a Titanic force, rather than a +means of locomotion, refused point-blank. +</p> + +<p> +In the leave-taking that followed, Nevil—with a lover's +ingenuity—contrived to secure the last touch, the last +word; and that small cool hand, once captured, was +singularly hard to relinquish. +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow ... whatever happens," was all he dared +to say. For answer he had the rose-flush on her half-averted +face; and he went forth as one who goes to victory; +secure in his belief that the morrow could not pass till her +lips had confirmed the avowal of her cheeks and eyes. +Almost, in that moment, he felt capable of bidding the sun +stand still and expecting it to obey him. +</p> + +<p> +And she? +</p> + +<p> +So soon as the door had closed behind them all, she went +swiftly to the threshold of her shrine, and stood there, +cooling her face against the glass of the open door, one +hand upon her heart that throbbed and sang as though it +would burst the bounds of flesh. +</p> + +<p> +What it all meant, whither it would lead them, she dared +not ask herself in set terms. As yet it sufficed that she +shared his triumph; and he, in turn, shared with her the +nameless thrill of touch, and speech, and glance. Nor was +that all. Something within whispered that he craved more +than this sublimated essence of emotion, so satisfying to her. +Was it conceivable that he craved all—might even dare to +ask all?—he, the inspired English artist, of her, the Indian +girl-student, divided from him by immovable barriers of +country and creed? +</p> + +<p> +Then the door was flung open briskly; and she turned to +meet Audrey's inquiring eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"It's all over, then?" was her greeting, and her very +voice brought Lilamani to earth with a thud. "Was it a +success? What's come to you, child? You look transfigured!" +</p> + +<p> +"Do I?" Lilamani tried to smile, but tears sprang +unbidden from the deeps. "It has all been so wonderful! +Signor Martino spoke such praises. And—I am so +happy——" +</p> + +<p> +Her voice broke. +</p> + +<p> +"What is there to cry about, then?" asked practical +Audrey: and the girl swept a hand across her lashes. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, how can I tell? You would never understand." +</p> + +<p> +She made as if to go, but Audrey's hand closed upon her +arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't run away, dear, the minute I come back," she +said a little wistfully. "I'm not so stupid as that amounts +to; and I want to hear about this afternoon. Signor +Martino is pleased? And your father?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. He says—it lives and breathes." +</p> + +<p> +Audrey's hand was on the silken covering. "I suppose I +may look since everyone else has seen it?" said she; and +proceeded to look, long and silently, defying the ache within; +while Lilamani, in broken, half-coherent phrases, told her +of Martino's enthusiasm, of Mrs. Despard's conviction that +through this—her picture—Mr. Sinclair had "found +himself" at last. +</p> + +<p> +Audrey listened without interruption. Then she nodded, +compressing her lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. It's a very remarkable bit of work. But +still——" +</p> + +<p> +"But still—<i>what</i>?" Lilamani spoke almost sharply. +The cool tone maddened her so. Yet now she must endure +the worse ordeal of the cool glance that discerned something, +at least, of the agitation within. +</p> + +<p> +"What I mean is this——" Audrey handled her words +steadily, as the surgeon his knife. "It is a cruel kindness +for them all to inflame Nevil with their enthusiasm on the +strength of one exceptional success. They only make it +harder for him to remember his <i>real</i> duty——" +</p> + +<p> +"What is that?" The low voice was toneless now, the +sweet submissive face a mask. +</p> + +<p> +"The duty he owes to his father and his family at home; +as you, a daughter of Hindu tradition, very well understand. +Nevil is the eldest son of a distinguished house——" +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Despard told me that; and all his father's wishes. +Only—she thinks——" +</p> + +<p> +"In my opinion she thinks too much of Nevil, and of his +art; which makes it a pity she turned up just now. No +right-minded person can doubt that it is high time for him +to drop philandering with paint and canvas, and knocking +aimlessly about the Continent, achieving nothing. He +ought to go home, and stand for Parliament, and then +marry the right sort of girl—in his own position. The +marriage of an eldest son is an important matter in England. +He is less free to choose haphazard than other men." +</p> + +<p> +Then, kindly but inexorably, she enlarged upon the subject; +doing her own duty by friend and pupil without stint: +and while Lilamani listened meekly, expressing a mild +interest from time to time, all her vague rose-coloured +possibilities shrivelled and died. +</p> + +<p> +No sunset peace was to be hers. Better had she accepted +the walk by the sea. The afternoon had quickened all her +deepest sensibilities into passionate life; and Audrey's +dutiful dissertation was like a chill hand upon her quivering +heart. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0110"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER X +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "O sun of heaven, above the worldly sea,<br> + O very love, what light is this of thee!<br> + My sea of soul is deep as thou art high,<br> + But all thy light is shed through all of me,<br> + As love's thro' love while day shall live and die."<br> + SWINBOURNE.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +But the heart of seventeen is nothing if not resilient; +and the thin coating of ice, dutifully laid on by Audrey, +could not choose but melt again in the light of Nevil +Sinclair's eyes. Then the laughter of sun and sea; the +boat, pulling lightly at its mooring-rope, like a playful child; +all glad things seemed wooing her to forgetfulness of a +pillow wet with tears, and carefully turned over lest Audrey +discover the fact. +</p> + +<p> +One thing disappointed her. There were but four of +them. Mrs. Despard's husband was too ill to be left; and +a heavy mail, that Sir Lakshman wished to grapple with at +leisure, had made him beg Audrey to take his place. She +could not well refuse; and now the four stood ready to +embark from the toy bay scooped out of the headland where +Nevil had sat with his "divine discovery" two nights ago. +</p> + +<p> +Vivid against the broken white rocks, the sea that Lilamani +loved so, shone blue and green, like her favourite peacock's +breast, and her golden butterflies flickered, in their millions, +along the wide path of light travelling westward with the +sun. But the silken calm of yesterday was gone. Out in +the open, heaving billows rose and fell, hinting lazily at +huge forces in reserve. A brisk little breeze from the +south-west tipped them here and there with feathers of foam; and +away towards Italy a harmless-looking flock of grey-white +clouds dappled the blue. A day that justified in full +Lilamani's phrase of riding on the sea; and she could scarce +restrain her impatience to be afloat. But, the boatman, +with eloquent hands and eyebrows, appeared to be dissuading +the Englishmen from going out. He detected promise of +storm in that brisk little breeze, with its affectation of +playful frivolity; and Audrey made haste to put in her word. +</p> + +<p> +"If he thinks it best not to go, Nevil, don't be unwise +enough to insist." +</p> + +<p> +But Nevil was mysteriously aware of the cloud that +shadowed Lilamani's face. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear girl, I know what I'm about. It's merely a +case of not going too far. But, of course, if you feel +nervous——" +</p> + +<p> +She silenced him with a glance; and he, turning to +Lilamani, added, with manifest change of tone, "You rather +enjoy a little tossing, don't you? And we can turn the +minute our friend here gives the word—eh, Broome?" +</p> + +<p> +"Right. I see no symptoms myself of serious derangement +of the elements. Our friend may be more lazy than +weather-wise, after all." +</p> + +<p> +That happy suggestion clinched matters, and they set +out: the women in the stern; Nevil rowing stroke; the +pessimist reclining in the bows, to keep a sharp look-out on +the heavens and lend a hand if need be. By this arrangement +Sinclair's eyes were free of the beloved face; and he +had promised himself, by interplay of stolen glances, to +prepare the way for speech. +</p> + +<p> +But he reckoned without the effect of Audrey's presence +on the girl, and the yet more repressive effect of her words. +To Lilamani, however rebellious at heart, one thing was +certain: if there were the remotest fear of injuring his +family or his fame, then yesterday's wonder of revelation +must be, for her, as though it had never been. And without +speech she must contrive to make him understand. So she +refused, stoically, to meet the eyes that sought hers, at +first in glad certainty of response; then in a growing +bewilderment that verged on despair. This was not the +Lilamani of last night. It was the Lilamani of earlier +sittings: and he did not hold the key to the change. +Instinctively, he blamed Audrey; though what she had said +or done he was too distracted to guess. +</p> + +<p> +It may be imagined that conversation fell flat: while +Nevil—shuffling and discarding wild conjectures—handled +his oar more casually every moment. +</p> + +<p> +Broome, amusedly trying to keep time with him, gave it +up at last, and balancing his own blade, smote his friend +upon the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Come out of that, Nevil!" cried he. "I'm tired of +playing second fiddle to a stroke who indulges in a <i>scherzo</i>, +with variations, under the delusion that he is propelling a +boat. I've not sworn at you once—audibly. And I claim +my reward. Come out of it, and let me give the ladies a +taste of my quality! Good Lord, man, steady on! You'll +have us all in the water." +</p> + +<p> +For Sinclair had risen impetuously, with a swift darkening +of his whole face, duly noted by Audrey. One last look at +Lilamani—unreturned, like the rest—and pulling himself +together, he exchanged seats, with all due precaution, and +a twisted smile in response to Broome's friendly pressure +of his arm. Then did the boat bound forward to some purpose; +and flagging conversation revived: though not for long. +Of a sudden that brisk little breeze from the south +dropped its pretence at frivolity, and raced full speed across +the open sea, lashing the long lazy billows to crested waves. +They caught the green and white pleasure-boat broadside +on with a force that set it shuddering from end to end; and +the pessimist in the bows had his moment of triumph. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Voyez donc, Messieurs, tournez—tournez vite!</i>" he +cried in unfeigned alarm. "<i>Ça vient comme un ouragon.</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Before the words were out, both Englishmen had gripped +their oars and bowed themselves to the task with a will. +But the leaping, rocking boat seemed animated by a +will of its own. Every moment the onrush of wind and +waves grew fiercer; while the harmless flock of clouds sped +across the sky, their dark edges blurred with rain. Audrey, +gripping the gunwale, paled a little; not on her own account, +but on account of the girl at her side, who—for her part—was +lost in sheer delight at the beauty and movement and +tense excitement of it all. +</p> + +<p> +The two men battled and failed; battled and failed +again, swearing inaudibly, between their teeth. Then—even +as a curling monster broke over the boat, wetting +Audrey to the skin—will and muscle triumphed. With a +perilous lurch they swung round, and headed for the shore, +as speedily as a broadside gale and wave on toppling wave +would allow. +</p> + +<p> +Not till then did Nevil dare snatch a glimpse of Lilamani, +round the intervening bulk of his friend. Alert and upright +she sat, this fragile being in her silken draperies; head +uplifted, lips apart. One small hand had followed Audrey's +lead; the other held her <i>sari</i>, that flapped and billowed +about her fantastically with each fresh gust of the gale. +And now the eyes that had been denied him, met his own +fearlessly, all shadow of self-consciousness swept from them +by the keen joy in things elemental that drives out the spirit +of fear: and her lips flashed him a smile of such clear +confidence as redoubled his own. With zest renewed he fought +his way through the surging waters. All would yet be well; +though this confounded hurricane had upset his cherished +plans, and might conceivably upset the whole boat-load into +the bargain. +</p> + +<p> +Once—yea, twice, when a green wall of water bore down +upon them, implacable as Fate, the end seemed a matter +of minutes; and the natural, human dread of Death +clutched at their hearts. But light craft, like certain light +natures, will weather a sea that would sink a sturdier vessel; +and, at each crisis, their cockle-shell rose gaily on the wave +that should have whelmed it; shuddered down the far side +with no worse punishment than a blinding shower of spray; +and still headed gallantly for the Cap. But here, in the +toy bay, where breakers laughed and thundered among the +rocks, fresh danger confronted them. Almost it seemed as +if landing were impossible; and to attempt rounding the +point were certain destruction. But Cuthbert Broome +was more than a mere weaver of fiction; and as +they neared the danger-zone, his voice rang out, clear +and commanding, above the sonorous laughter of the sea. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Attendez bien!</i>" he shouted over his shoulder to the +weather-wise one in the bows, bidding him take fast hold +of the rope and leap or plunge ashore on the first ghost of +an opportunity. He and the other monsieur would manage +the rest. A command tipped with gold; two louis, no +less: and the son of old Antibes laughed in his sleeve. +Certainly a wetting would be a nuisance. But gold was +gold. And, though the breakers ran high, they were child's +play to others he had weathered in fifteen years of intimacy +with their kind. So long as "<i>les messieurs Anglais</i>" did +not expect him to help with the women-folk—who would +certainly shriek and struggle at the last—all was well; and +he promised two whole candles to his patron saint, who had +plainly made these fools of foreigners deaf to his warning +out of pure consideration for his own empty pocket and +recent ill-luck. +</p> + +<p> +Before three minutes were out, he had seen his chance +and taken it, with the agility of a chamois. Then, as the +boat's keel screeched and jarred upon hidden rocks, Broome +shipped his oar, and leaned forward, speaking with quiet +decision. +</p> + +<p> +"You must let me carry you across, Miss Hammond. +It's imperative. Nevil can take Miss Lakshman Singh." +</p> + +<p> +Revolt against the indignity of the first, and determination +to prevent the second, made Audrey thrust out both +hands, as if to ward him off by force. But, in such a case, +might is right. +</p> + +<p> +"For God's sake don't make a fuss," the man said sternly; +and a moment later she was in his arms, held high like a +child, while he slipped and staggered among the last of the +breakers; till a hand thrust out by him of Antibes pulled +them safe ashore. +</p> + +<p> +Then—as Broome released her, and the boatman +pocketed his gold—down came the rain: not mere drops, +but steely shafts of water that flogged the earth and the +tossing, shuddering trees. Sinclair, still in the boat, found +time to hurl Audrey's parasol at his friend. The wind +swept it yards ahead of them: and Broome, with a +backward glance of pure amusement, secured his thankless +captive by the arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Come on, Miss Hammond. It's a case of running for +all we're worth. That toy of yours won't be much use." +</p> + +<p> +But Audrey stirred not an inch. "I'm wet through +already," she answered coolly. "And I don't mind rain. +I must wait for Miss Lakshman Singh." +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense, nonsense——" The masterful hand on her +arm propelled her rapidly forward would she or no. +"Sea-water's one thing; rain's another. At my advanced age it +spells rheumatism; and Nevil, of all men, may be trusted +to take good care of your friend." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean? You don't understand," she +panted. They were fairly running now; and as they passed +under the archway of Moorish design—set where +headland merges into mainland—Audrey snatched a last look +over her shoulder at the two, who were so annoyingly far +behind. +</p> + +<p> +Nevil stood safely on the pathway now, with the treasure +he coveted in his arms. Jealousy stung her, like a scorpion, +jealousy that gave place to anger, and the old antagonism, +as she was ruthlessly hurried along. Why did he not put +the girl down at once? What shadow of right had he to +hold her an instant longer than need be? What right, +indeed, beyond the primeval one of a heart that is set on +fire of love, and feels the only other heart on earth +throbbing close against it, to the same immemorial tune. +</p> + +<p> +Chivalrous gentleman though he was, the primal man +triumphed in Nevil Sinclair just then. Instead of +relinquishing his heaven-sent burden, he set off at a round +trot—without leave asked or spoken word—for the archway +a hundred yards off, whose width promised shelter and a +chance of speech. Odd that, although he had flung his own +coat about her shoulders, he should have forgot her parasol; +but the boatman chased him with it and thrust it open into +the girl's hand. +</p> + +<p> +As for her—shyness, amazement, and a thrill of fear, +that was rapture, had smitten her dumb. But now, as he +began to run, she dutifully strove for freedom; pushing +herself from him with one ineffectual hand pressed against his +drenched silk shirt. +</p> + +<p> +"Let me walk. Put me down. Oh, please, please!" +</p> + +<p> +"When we get to the arch," he assured her, smiling, as +he hurried on. And all the while his arms that held her, +lightly, yet so closely, were telling her things not to be +uttered save through that mystery of contact which is love's +daily bread. +</p> + +<p> +Then the arch loomed darkly above them. There was +respite from the lash of the rain, that fell now in a steady +downpour; for the wind had dropped. And the man was +constrained to set her down, to loose his hold upon her +yielding slenderness—for a time. Before they went on he +would have her promise; not in words alone. +</p> + +<p> +The blood drummed in his temples, and the whisper of +her quickened breathing was music in his ears. But speech +was difficult; more so than he could have believed. His +flannel coat slipped unheeded from her shoulders as she +stood before him, wind-tossed and palpitating, a flower +shaken by the storm. +</p> + +<p> +Then he drew a step nearer, and dared all. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani——" +</p> + +<p> +The word swept through her like triumphal music; and +he saw the whole rose of the woman blossom in her cheeks. +Then—remembrance stabbed her: remembrance that as far +as the East is from the West, so far had Destiny set them +asunder. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh ... but you must not—" she pleaded, veiling +her eyes lest they contradict her tongue. "And ... we +ought to go on, please. At once." +</p> + +<p> +"Why? You're very little wet; and the storm will soon +pass over." +</p> + +<p> +"But Audrey will be angry——" +</p> + +<p> +He dismissed Audrey with a gesture of impatience. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll settle with her, if only you will give me leave to +tell her——" He came closer and she stepped back a pace. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani!" he cried again, his voice breaking with passion +held in check. "You know—you must know that those +sweet, small hands of yours have plucked the heart out of +my body. Will you throw it down and break it? Will +you—will you?" +</p> + +<p> +Still she denied him her eyes. "Oh, do not ask me such +things. How shall I say? It is to my father you should +speak." +</p> + +<p> +"But it is from his daughter I must have my answer +first." +</p> + +<p> +Experience of her kind tempted him to enforce his plea +by persuasion more compelling. But never had he realized +more poignantly her delicate aura of apartness than in this, +their first moment alone, when it seemed that he had but +to go forward, with tender mastery, and take her to himself. +Opportunity beckoned; temptation was keen; and he +readier, by nature, to yield than to resist. Yet he merely +put out a hand and passed caressing finger-tips along the +edge of her <i>sari</i>. +</p> + +<p> +He had his reward. For a small shiver of ecstasy ran +through her; and he knew—exultingly he knew——! +</p> + +<p> +"Beloved—let me see your eyes." He spoke low and +eagerly. "Let them promise me that you will be ... my +wife, in spite of everything. Put out of your mind all +foolish scruples about difference of race—and colour. +They are unworthy of you—of me—of the great countries +to which we belong. Oh, my beautiful love! Don't keep +me in suspense——" +</p> + +<p> +At that she let fall her hands, and he cherished their chill +moisture, while those dark unfathomable eyes of hers dwelt +upon his face in a passion of adoration, such as the modern +man rarely looks for in marriage, and still more rarely +receives. Nevil Sinclair had seen enough of counterfeit +coin to realize that—worthy or unworthy—he had struck +pure gold at last. +</p> + +<p> +He let out his breath in a sigh of supreme content. +</p> + +<p> +"Now nothing in Heaven or earth can come between us," +he said; and, still holding her, leaned nearer for the +crowning assurance. +</p> + +<p> +But she, with a broken sound, stepped backward against +the brickwork; and, freeing one hand, warded him off with +a gesture that for him was a command. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I must not—I may not! There is not yet any +betrothal. And—and—there never can be——" +</p> + +<p> +"In God's name, why not?" he cried out desperately. +"If you wish it ... and I wish it——" +</p> + +<p> +Again that appealing gesture. "Oh, please—please—not +to speak, and—try to understand. You are asking if—if +I—love you; and—how shall I deny? But—for +marriage——" The sob that struggled in her throat was +bravely driven back. "In my country it is not just to +the pleasure of two people. It is to union of families, of +same religion, same caste. But ... how can we ... for +sake of my father, and—and—for yours——" +</p> + +<p> +"Mine? What d'you know of him——?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a great deal; but—enough. Audrey told me——" +</p> + +<p> +"Audrey——? Good Lord——!" Fire that was not +passion blazed in his eyes; and her lips quivered at this new +revealing. +</p> + +<p> +"Have I said wrong? Please not be angry——" +</p> + +<p> +"With you? Never!" Betrothal or no, his arm went +round her shoulders, and, in defiance of gentle resistance, +held her so. "But I'll not put up with Audrey's +interference. My home affairs are no concern of hers, and I +shall tell her so in straighter language than she'll care about. +What has she said already? Tell me honestly. I have +every right to know." +</p> + +<p> +The measure of an Eastern woman's submission is the +measure of her love; and, in faltering, tailless phrases, she +told him honestly of the half-hour's talk that had jolted +her from heaven to earth; adding, on her own account, a +tremulous plea for duty and family honour, and—hardest +of all—for the girl in his own rank of life.... +</p> + +<p> +But this he would not endure, even from her. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani—how dare you, after—just now! As for +my father, no doubt he would rather I chose a girl in my +own set; you see, I am frank with you. But in my country, +a man marries to please himself, not to please his father." +</p> + +<p> +She sighed; then, smiling bravely up at him: "In my +country it is not so: at least—not with women——" +</p> + +<p> +"I know that. Audrey told me also—of you——" +</p> + +<p> +"Of me?" +</p> + +<p> +A wave of hot colour flooded her face: and his hold upon +her tightened. +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, we won't speak of that, or think of it even," +he whispered; and through the thin veil she felt his lips +upon her hair. "You are mine now—for always. Your +father will never be blind to your true happiness! He is +so courageous, so wide-minded——" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—yes. But—in this, it is not him; it is our law, +our custom. If I, a Hindu, marry to a foreigner, I am cut +off for always from family, from caste, from religion—from +ever going back to my home. This he cannot change +with all his wishing and his courage; and for this—he +would surely break his heart. But he shall not—he shall +not——" her voice vibrated on a low note of passion—"that +is why I can only—break—my own." +</p> + +<p> +"And mine, by the way. Does that go for nothing?" +</p> + +<p> +At the thrill of pain in his tone, the sob so bravely beaten +back rose up again, striking away her pitiful defences of +pride and maidenly aloofness. Then—how it came about +she never quite knew, though he perchance could have +enlightened her—she found herself crying her heart out on +the shoulder of the man who could never be her betrothed; +burning face hidden against his damp silk shirt; distraught +spirit soothed by the magic of his touch. And, for a while, +beyond murmured endearments, he made no attempt to +check her tears. He blessed them, rather, in that they +brought relief to her, and to him the privilege of such +caresses as a smiling Lilamani would never have allowed. +Only when the sobs had died down to shuddering sighs, he +brought his head close again and pleaded his cause with hope +renewed. +</p> + +<p> +"Beloved—if ... supposing ... your father is not +dead against me as a son-in-law, you would be willing to +sacrifice ... all you said——?" +</p> + +<p> +Her passionate whisper, "Yes—oh yes——" lifted him +to such heights of humility as it is good for a man to reach +once in a life. "But he will never—never——" she +sighed out her tragic conviction. "And without his +consenting, I will never—make promise ... even for +you——" A tremor shook her stoical resolve. But she checked +his threatened interruption, and went on, with a lift of her +small, proud head: "For me there can be no marriage. +Punishment of gods doubtless for going against my mother. +I must only be thankful for freedom to do Audrey's plan. +I will conquer these ugly studies. Then—I go back to +my father and—my country; and I will bring health and +light to my less free sisters, who are sick of body or of +mind——" +</p> + +<p> +"You will do nothing of the sort, you blessed little +saint," he assured her; and his conviction, though a smiling +one, equalled her own. "You will stay where Fate has +sent you, to give health and light to one unworthy Englishman, +who can't live without you. Lilamani——!" He +drew near again and stood before her, very straight and +virile in the clinging silk shirt and <i>kummerbund</i>. "Have +you quite grasped the fact, even now, that I want you more +than I have ever wanted anything on earth? Why should +we meet tragedy half-way? Seeing how you are placed, +your father might be readier than you think.... Only +give me a chance to ask him, to-morrow—to-night +even——" +</p> + +<p> +"Not you. It is for me now," she said softly. "It is +I that can give him less pain in telling. Also—it is only I +that might—perhaps—bring him to see this thing with our +eyes——" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—yes. You are right. You will speak soon?" +</p> + +<p> +"I could not sleep to-night without telling him all that +is in my heart." +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes had a far-away look, rapt and tender. He +felt himself forgotten, and knew the prick of jealousy. +</p> + +<p> +"Dearest," he said with sudden intensity, "will you ever +love me half as well as that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Foolish one!" she rebuked him tenderly, and the play +of blood in her cheeks was an uplifting thing to see. "How +shall I know—yet? But this I know—we are staying +here too long. Audrey will be so wondering and so +angry." +</p> + +<p> +"What a calamity! And your news won't mend matters, +I'm afraid." +</p> + +<p> +"No. That is the pity. But still—we must go quickly. +Look—the wind is almost dead." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it?" he asked, looking instead at the delicate +pencillings of distress between her brows. +</p> + +<p> +"And the rain also," she went on, stepping out for a +fuller view of sea and sky. "Look how the sun is sparkling +it like jewels! And there—over there—more beautiful +than all! So great a rainbow! Two rainbows. Such as I +have never seen!" +</p> + +<p> +It was true. Arched across the eastern sky, where rent +clouds unveiled a vision of frail, storm-washed blue, a double +rainbow spanned the heavens in two unbroken arcs. Not +blurred and misty, but astonishingly clear, gleamed each +ring of those primal colours that rightly fused create the +miracle men call light; even as love and courage, faith +and truth, in perfect fusion, create that other miracle men +call a human soul. +</p> + +<p> +And while they stood watching, awed to silence, these +two who had touched the secret springs of life, sea and sky +grew calmer, till all the blue was stippled with +footprints of the vanished wind—umber and grey and +white, smitten by the passing sun to luminous tints of +pearl. +</p> + +<p> +"'Bride of the Rain,' that is how Arabs call it," Lilamani +whispered at last; and the man's hand closed upon +hers that hung at her side. +</p> + +<p> +"Very beautiful," he said in the same tone, as if they +stood on the threshold of a temple. "For you are my +Bride of the Rain! And it's a good omen. You know our +Bible legend?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I have read." +</p> + +<p> +"The bow of promise—you remember? Well, there it +is—twice over. Yours and mine." +</p> + +<p> +Smiling, she shook her head; and the eyes she turned +upon him had their own rainbow-light of love gleaming +through tears. +</p> + +<p> +"You have the more courage. But you cannot see, so +clear as I see, all the frowning mountains——" +</p> + +<p> +"Love and faith can move mountains, Lilamani." +</p> + +<p> +For a fleeting instant, her glance caressed him. "It is +possible. And you must believe that I will do all I +can—except go against my father. Come now——" the hand +that nestled in his own was gently withdrawn. "And +please—if Audrey is waiting me downstairs, will you come +up with us—that she shall not ask me questions? I +cannot speak with her—of you, till I have spoken with my +father. Will you come?" +</p> + +<p> +He beamed at the request. "At least, then, you allow +my right to protect you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am allowing—every right," she answered very low. +"Only—I have so little hope— +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I have enough for us both and to spare!" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah—that is a thought to shame my weakness. Come, +quickly." +</p> + +<p> +So they went together up the broad path from the sea, +keeping farther apart than need be, lest any recognize them +as lovers stepping downwards from the hill of dreams into +the valley of stones. And Miss Blakeney, smiling distantly +upon them, as they mounted the steps, was moved to +righteous disapproval at the increasing forwardness of the +"Indian curio," who by rights should be safely shut away +from the sight of man, "Instead of flagrantly fishing for +an English husband—whom she would certainly never +catch!" A spiteful touch evoked by the transfigured aspect +of Nevil Sinclair's face. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0111"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XI +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "C'est un ordre des dieux qui jamais ne se rompe<br> + De nous vendre bien cher les grands biens qu'ils nous font."<br> + VICTOR HUGO.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +No sign of Audrey below stairs, to their exceeding relief. +Lilamani hoped secretly that practical considerations +had driven her to her room. So might the culprit escape +unchallenged to her room. But when jealousy and curiosity +join hands with an unwavering sense of duty, the culprit's +chances of escape are small: and Audrey Hammond had +every intention of speaking out her mind to both. +</p> + +<p> +Reaching the hotel, saturate and rebellious, she had looked +round for a sight of them, in vain. Dignity and the state +of her own heart alone withheld her from going straight +back through the rain; and she may be forgiven if +irritation triumphed. +</p> + +<p> +"What on earth can Nevil be doing?" she broke out +hotly. "It is abominable of him to detain Lilamani like +this, when she's wet through——" +</p> + +<p> +"Not half so wet as you are," Broome said soothingly. +"You got the full brunt of it, being on the weather side; +and no doubt Nevil thought it better to take shelter till the +worst was over." +</p> + +<p> +"He had no business to think——!" +</p> + +<p> +"Make allowances, Miss Hammond. It's a talent worth +cultivating. I was nine-and-twenty once myself, and one +remembers a thing or two. Seeing that shelter included +ten minutes alone with a charming girl, I don't blame Nevil +for taking it. No young fellow worth his salt would have +done otherwise." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course not. That's the exalted way you men look +at things!" The concentrated superiority of modern girlhood +tinged her tone. "But with Lilamani it is different, +as he knows well enough. She is an Indian girl——" +</p> + +<p> +"And Nevil is an English gentleman," Broome reproved +her quietly. "Miss Lakshman Singh is perfectly safe with +him; and I see no reason why we should risk catching severe +colds on their account. If a layman of advanced age may +presume to prescribe to a doctor—I should advise +immediate change of clothes, and ammoniated quinine. May I +see you to your room?" Again he had her metaphorically +by the arm. Refusal would have been folly—undignified +folly; and of that Audrey was incapable. At her door he +had left her; and she, hurriedly exchanging a wet coat and +skirt for a dry one, was out again on the landing before +five minutes were up. +</p> + +<p> +The lift halted; an elderly lady emerged, closing the +door behind her. +</p> + +<p> +Cool as she was by temperament, anger burned in Audrey +Hammond like a white flame; anger against the man who +had stolen her own heart unawares, and now—in the teeth +of her straight-speaking—seemed set upon wrecking her +dearest project, to say nothing of Lilamani's happiness. +That he would be mad enough to offer his distinguished +name to a Hindu girl-student—however well-bred—she +could not bring herself to believe. He was simply indulging +his masculine privilege of stealing with one hand the +priceless thing he must needs throw away with the other. Oh, +these men—these self-styled "lords of creation!"—with +their unconscionable assumption that women, whose meed +is worship, were created solely for their personal delectation! +And the heresy dies hard; despite the pains taken by a +subversive minority to refine away from man, the overgrown +schoolboy, all the true masculinity, the essential +barbaric, that spells national power. +</p> + +<p> +Not that Audrey would have admitted this last. She +merely rejected on principle the "lord of creation" theory +of life: raged against it, rather, in her present mood. But +so long as the bulk of "unenlightened" women persist in +setting the needs of others above their own, what hope for +the champions of self-assertion and so-called equality? +What hope indeed, seeing that Nature—who abhors +equality as heartily and justly as she abhors a vacuum—framed +the other-regarding woman for her own great ends: +a fact more frankly recognized in the East than in the West, +as Audrey had good reason to know. +</p> + +<p> +And Lilamani, angelic little fool, was, in this respect, +Eastern to the core: misguided past hope of redemption! +If Nevil had won her love, she would quite conceivably take +a pride in prostrating herself at his feet, while he stepped +over her quivering heart into more eligible arms. +</p> + +<p> +Thus Audrey, pacing the empty passage; listening for +the unconscionable two, who came not; and longing for +the relief of speech, however inadequate. +</p> + +<p> +Ah!—the lift again. She swung round, steeled to fresh +disappointment; and lo, they were coming towards her. +But there was that in both faces which proclaimed the +futility of reproof. Baulked at all points, she could only +listen, with impassive interest, to the transparent lameness +of Nevil's explanation, that explained nothing save the one +fact obviously suppressed. +</p> + +<p> +"We were afraid you might be wondering what had +come to us," he concluded airily. "But it was a +punishing downpour; and Miss Lilamani is wet enough as +it is." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I will go at once and change. Good-bye for now; +and thank you." She gave him her hand, but not her +eyes; adding, for Audrey's benefit, with a desperate +attempt at lightness: "I will make sure and remember the +quinine!" +</p> + +<p> +Two minutes later, she stood alone, behind the blessed +shelter of her bedroom door; and Audrey heard the key +turned softly. A knife turned in an open wound could +hardly have hurt her more. +</p> + +<p> +But Nevil was speaking again; apologizing for his disregard +of advice, and for the anxiety it must have caused her, +to say nothing of the wetting. +</p> + +<p> +"But I sincerely hope you'll neither of you be the worse +for that," he added with a fervor that hardened her heart +afresh. +</p> + +<p> +"Make your mind easy. Lilamani won't die of it," she +answered him gravely. "But rain or no rain, you ought +to have brought her straight in. You had no right +whatever to do anything else." +</p> + +<p> +A light she had not yet seen sprang to his eyes. But +he controlled himself and said coolly: "That remains to +be proved." +</p> + +<p> +"Nevil! What on earth do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +He answered her with a direct look that drew the blood +to her cheeks. "I can't give you a full explanation yet, +Audrey. What's more, I'm not responsible to you for my +actions." +</p> + +<p> +"To me? No. But what of Sir Lakshman Singh?" +</p> + +<p> +"We can settle that—when I see him to-morrow. Good +night." +</p> + +<p> +He was gone; and she stood alone, deliberately shut out +from the confidence of the two human beings who, at the +moment, made up more than half her world. Incredible +that he could be in earnest. And Sir Lakshman Singh? +If she knew anything of the man he would not hear of it. +But still—it might be well to see Nevil before the morrow, +in spite of his rebuff; and make him understand that, for +Lilamani's sake, he must not persevere in so crazy a proposal. +She would go down after dinner; leaving the father and +daughter alone. Her heart cried out that she could not +sleep till she had the truth from Nevil himself. +</p> + +<p> +Fortified by this decision, she looked into the sitting-room, +told Sir Lakshman (who was growing anxious) they +had escaped with nothing worse than a wetting, and that +Lilamani was lying down; then went on to change for +dinner. +</p> + +<p> +The meal that followed was not enlivening: Sir +Lakshman preoccupied with the business that had kept him +at home; Lilamani patently ill at ease; and Audrey, +between snatches of machine-made talk, counting the minutes +till she could decently make her escape. +</p> + +<p> +On the arrival of coffee she rose with a hurried murmur +about promising a book to Madame de Lisle, picked one up +at random, and sped down the broad, shallow staircase, +rating herself for the flutter of trepidation within. +</p> + +<p> +Disappointment again. The Spinners of Destiny seemed +in league against her all round. Nevil was nowhere to be +seen. +</p> + +<p> +He had dined early, in the restaurant, to evade the X-ray +glances of his friends; and at the moment of Audrey's +descent he was pacing the long path by the sea, "making +glowworms" with an unimpeachable cigar and living the +afternoon's triumph over again. +</p> + +<p> +On this night of nights, the claims of father, family, social +position, and trifles of a like significance to both, suffered +total eclipse. The man saw nothing but Lilamani; his +indubitably, by virtue of that dumb adoration in her eyes. +To-morrow he would claim her openly, regardless of +conventional arched eyebrows and uplifted hands—if only she +could win the consent of Sir Lakshman. In this direction +alone he admitted possibility of failure. Not all Love's +sovereign egoism could blind him to the truth that upon +those hidden rocks of duty and devotion to her father the +storm-waves of passion would beat without avail. But +surely if the man idolized her, as Audrey had said, all must +be well. +</p> + +<p> +Impatience racked him. How could he wait till morning, +when by now his fate might be sealed! +</p> + +<p> +</p> + +<p> +And even while he paced and smoked, and built air-castles +under the wistful stars, Lilamani knelt beside her +father's chair, lids lowered demurely, hands resting lightly +on his arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Father mine—there is a thing I must tell before sleeping: +a thing my heart is aching to tell. And yet—it is +afraid——" +</p> + +<p> +"Of me? Since when has it learnt such foolishness, joy +of my life?" +</p> + +<p> +His free hand covered hers. +</p> + +<p> +"Since a few days only; and now still more—because, in +returning from the boat—Mr. Sinclair——" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah—what of him?" +</p> + +<p> +The sharpness of his tone startled her. She looked up +in dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"Kindest, please not be too quick to blame, or how shall +I find courage for the truth? To-day, after landing, when +Mr. Broome and Audrey hurried on, he ... he waited +me, under the arch, because of rain; and then he told me +... asked me.... How can I say all? Only that he +wishes, very much ... oh, very much ... that I give him +promise—of betrothal——" +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman felt the small hands quiver beneath his own, +that closed upon them firmly in token of assurance, while, for +her sake, he mastered his amazed indignation and spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"My child, I have been fearing, these last days, that +some such madness was in his mind. But this I did not +look for, that he should presume, without my leave, to +speak so freely——" +</p> + +<p> +"He says ... English custom," she pleaded softly, not +daring, now, to hint at freedom other than speech. +</p> + +<p> +"With their own women, it is true. But in such a case, +quite outside experience, he did wrong to make use of +closer intimacy, permitted only for a time, by reason of his +urgent wish. Yet, after all ... <i>I</i> should have foreknown. +Lacking true detachment, by reason of love's frailty, I had +not courage to resist the offer of this picture, when your +image in my heart should have sufficed. Seeing how your +beauty had smitten him from the first, I should have been +steadfast in refusal: and now—because the gods strike +through our best-beloved—behold my punishment laid on +you, who have already suffered enough. Is it not so, +Lilamani? Is it he alone who wishes, very much—this +impossible thing? Or do you also——?" +</p> + +<p> +"I also." +</p> + +<p> +The words were a mere whisper. She had bowed her +forehead upon his hand; and it was wet with her tears. +</p> + +<p> +"You told him this?" +</p> + +<p> +"I told him." +</p> + +<p> +A stifled sound escaped Sir Lakshman Singh: and she, +choking back her grief, knelt upright, the tear-drowned eyes +challenging his with a courage of his own bestowing. +</p> + +<p> +"Kindest—if I did wrong, you will forgive. How +should one heart lie to another, when both stand unveiled? +Yet I gave no promise, except I would plead your consent +to this, which you call impossible. Oh, Father ... to us +it does not seem so." +</p> + +<p> +"Kama, godling of the arrows, has thrown dust in your +eyes," the man answered, smiling sadly. "And this +Mr. Sinclair has not the smallest knowledge of what such +marriage would mean—for you——" +</p> + +<p> +"But I told him; saying also I was ready ... to forego +all; in certainty nothing could quite cut me off—from you. +Could it—could it?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sweetest one. With us, no division can come between +soul and soul. Yet spirits are constrained to dwell +in the house of the body. And the ocean is wide; as you +know, now——" +</p> + +<p> +Her tears overflowed. "I know ... bitterly I know. +Only ... you would come more often, for my sake——" +</p> + +<p> +"Assuredly: whenever possible. But what of your +mother, your brothers, your religion? True, I have shown +you sacred books of many creeds, that you might perceive +how the light of the One great Unseen dwelling behind the +veil of the seen shines alike through all forms of doctrine +and worship. Yet for each man the form received from +his own ancestors, his own country, is best. Believing this, +as I do, daughter of my heart—you would surely not wish +to change; even though you must lose all except essence of +our faith?" +</p> + +<p> +She drew in a tremulous lip. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, it is easy with lips alone to make sacrifice! But +marriage and religion are one; and unless—by accepting +the last, how shall I gain the first?" +</p> + +<p> +"There is yet a way: only it is as if to cure one ill with +another. In Europe they have an evil practice of making +marriage by law, without ceremonies of consecration——" +</p> + +<p> +"No—oh no! We could not have it thus. Sooner, I +would make any sacrifice. From him I will learn of his +creed, that his God may be as my God. In this first great +matter husband and wife must be of same mind." +</p> + +<p> +"Truly spoken, wise one. You have seen enough in your +own home of the trouble that comes when they are not so, +even though of same creed. But faith is not as a garment, +to be taken up or cast aside—even at command of love. +Believe me, child, yours would not change, though you deck +it in new words and give it a new name. You would not +ever have one mind with this man of traditions and ideals +far away from your own. Knowing these things, I do well +to say such union is not possible for this daughter of +mine." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Father—Father!" All the newly-awakened passion +of her woman's heart, dutifully repressed till now, +voiced itself in that despairing cry. "I will never go +against you. But you said ... I have suffered enough. +Now ... will you kill me right out?" +</p> + +<p> +He winced: then gathered her close. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, dearest one; that is wild talk. If I am seeming +cruel for a moment, it is only that I may save you from +worse suffering—when too late. No, not to interrupt. +Listen a little longer; remembering that I have lived in +England and speak of what I understand. Even if you are +ready to renounce all, endure all—and I am believing you +capable of both—there are, for Mr. Sinclair, difficulties not +to be brushed aside like cobwebs. Audrey tells me he is +eldest son of a Baronet and by duty to his family——" +</p> + +<p> +"That she told me, too——" For some reason Audrey's +name pricked her to impatience, "and to-day, I tried to +speak of it; but he said——" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes. I know well what young men of all nations +say when their blood is on fire for passion of a beautiful +woman. And you are a woman now, little one, beautiful +as a half-blown lotus-bud in the moon. More than that, +remember you are light of my eyes, the most priceless jewel +of my heart; and you are asking that I shall bestow this +upon a stranger, a foreigner, of other creed and race——" +</p> + +<p> +"But Father—are you not forgetting he is of the race +you admire more than all?" she pleaded eagerly, inspired +by despair to one last eloquent appeal. "Is it not from +your own so big mind I have been learning, all these years, +to join your admiration of this great England and those +her ideals you told of only yesterday? Is it not you that +have shown me, by stories and poems of her highest writers, +how it is beautiful, this love-made marriage between +freely-consenting hearts of woman and man? Is it not you who +saved me from that other marriage, worse than death, and +gave leave for the picture that has brought to me this—crown +of life? Have I not heard you speak often against +those lines about East and West, that the two may not +meet; because you must believe there might one day +come closer understanding, through sympathy—through +love? Is it only from your <i>lips</i> this believing, Father mine? +And if from the heart—how better to prove such belief +than by giving even your most priceless jewel to a man of +this fine race——" Her voice broke on the words; her +flash of eloquence died out. "Oh, Father, I beg you not +take away all hope!" she cried piteously, and hid her face +upon his breast. +</p> + +<p> +For many minutes she lay thus, a quivering sheaf of +sensibilities, soothed by the strong pressure of his hand +upon her head; praying passionately to Mai Lakshmi, +goddess of Fortune, who, being a woman, must surely hear and +make him understand. Then, in a tense expectancy, she +waited—waited for the words that seemed as though +they would never come: not realizing, in her anxiety, that +his silence proved the strength of her appeal. +</p> + +<p> +In language the more arresting for its simplicity, she had +set before him the truth that unwittingly he himself had +led her, step by step, toward this undreamed of consummation. +He saw her—his priceless jewel—set between the +devil and the deep sea; between the hideous marriage from +which he had snatched her, and a life of barren womanhood, +devoted to uncongenial work. To this pass he had +brought her through insistence on a Western education, +and delight in her sweet companionship; or, in the language +of his own creed, through lack of detachment, whereby all +evils come. +</p> + +<p> +Dare he deny her so miraculous, if questionable, a chance +of escape? No student, it was plain—this lovely and +lovable child of his begetting; but just true woman, who, +having found her lode-star, must follow it, "to her triumph +or her undoing." And he who so heartily wished to see +concord replace conflict between East and West, could it +be thus that the gods bade him give proof of the desire, the +belief that was in him—as she had said? +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani." He spoke at last, lifting her head from its +shelter and framing her face with his hands. "Habit is +master even of the strongest. I have never denied you +in small things. How should I deny you in this—greatest +of all? Your words have the force belonging to truth. +That which my own acts have brought about, I have no +right, no power to undo. Marry this man, child, if you +cannot find happiness except in taking such tremendous +risk. I was hoping in time you would get more pleasure +from your studies. Selfish hope, because in the end they +would bring my uncaged bird back to the nest." +</p> + +<p> +"I also was hoping, and for that same reason—dearest," +she made answer steadily, though tears gleamed on her +lashes. "But ask your private heart only—is woman +created for wisdom in book-lore, or in heart-lore? Is she, +before all things, Life-healer, or Life-bringer? Audrey +might think—the first. But I ... never! And will it +be great harm for England if I give to her a few children +with best blood of India in their veins?" +</p> + +<p> +For such a mingling of young simplicity and womanly +wisdom he could find no answer but a lingering kiss on her +brow. +</p> + +<p> +"That is the seal of your consenting?" she whispered. +And he: "It is the seal of your freedom, rather, to make +your own decision. Only this I counsel, that you give no +promise of betrothal till you have considered, with cooler +brain and heart, all that you must lose for this one gain. +Best wisdom, believe me, child, is that you should go +without any sight of him for one whole week. Abstinence will +bring surer knowledge of your own heart; also, in detachment +of spirit, you will see more clearly to judge true judgment." +</p> + +<p> +"And—he?" +</p> + +<p> +"I will myself see him to-morrow. I must know something +more of him and of his own people, before I can fully +give consent. After seeing him, I will ask him to go right +away for one week. Not too long, little one?" +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head with compressed lips and puckered +brows. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall put very clearly to him all you must forego, and +see that he too is ready to face his share of difficulties like +a man. Because ... if he should make you unhappy——?" +</p> + +<p> +Murder gleamed in the dark of Sir Lakshman's eyes; and +she leaned to him, lightly smoothing his brow. +</p> + +<p> +"On that account, Father, have no fear." +</p> + +<p> +"Yet even so—there is too much that might bring you +trouble; and I not by to help. Think, my child, if the Gods +in anger should take him from you, leaving you a +widow—young, beautiful, cut off from home and country——" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, please, please hush!" she cried out, covering her +ears. Then, with a sudden dawn of inspiration in her face, +she added low and fervently: "Shall the flesh survive when +the soul is gone? If the Gods smite me through him—I +go also. I am <i>suttee</i>. There are other ways than the +funeral pyre." +</p> + +<p> +She set her small hands palm to palm; and he pressed +them between his own, knowing well that she spoke truth. +Yet, for all his enlightenment, was he too innately a Hindu +to voice his conviction that surely she was of those whom +the Gods themselves could not wittingly harm. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0112"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XII +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "He which observes the wind shall hardly sow;<br> + He which regards the clouds shall hardly reap,<br> + Risk all, who all would gain: and blindly. Be it so."<br> + FRANCIS THOMPSON.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +There were at least four people in the Hotel du +Cap who slept very ill that Friday night, and welcomed +the smile of morning with the peculiar gratitude of +those who have been at odds with their pillow through the +small hours. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps, of the four, Audrey Hammond had the worst +of it. A sense of being shut out from the confidence of +those, who in a peculiar sense belonged to her, added +poignancy to suspense; and, by the time Annette's knock +gladdened her ears, all she asked was certain +knowledge—good or bad. +</p> + +<p> +The maid handed her a note. She paused a moment to +steady herself before opening it; then she read the few lines +writ in pencil—and knew the worst. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"DEAR AUDREY,—I slept too little in the night, and +this morning I will stay in my room alone. You will hear +from father all that came to me yesterday, still too +wonderful to believe. It will make you sad. Perhaps angry. +But I am hoping you will understand that heart must come +before head when it is a woman. And please forgive, if +you can, your stupid and disappointing, but so grateful, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"LILAMANI." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +She read the note twice over, tears clutching at her +throat. But she would not suffer them to fall, though +such kindly rain would have been her best medicine of healing +just then. Strange how all jealousy, all thought of the +man seemed suddenly eclipsed by the pain of losing this +"stupid and disappointing" Lilamani, whose heart must +come before her head. Instinctively her latent motherhood +had gone out to this unmothered child, whom Nevil—with +characteristic disregard of complex issues—must have +asked to be his wife. But what of Sir Lakshman? Could +even Lilamani persuade him to countenance such madness? +With Audrey dressing was always a rapid operation: but +this morning she broke her record. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman stood awaiting her, composed and courteous +as usual, but with creases of worry on his brow. Her own +mask of cheerful practical interest did credit to her powers +of self-control. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani sent me a line," she remarked, pouring coffee +and milk into Sir Lakshman's cup. "The child slept +badly and won't hurry up. She says you have news for me. +Is it—Nevil?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. He wishes to marry her." +</p> + +<p> +"And—can you bring yourself to consent?" +</p> + +<p> +At that direct attack, composure deserted him. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Hammond, situated as she is—can I bring myself +to refuse?" +</p> + +<p> +Audrey considered the question while helping herself to +honey. +</p> + +<p> +"That complicates matters," she admitted grudgingly. +"It is disappointing that the study of medicine is so little +to her taste. Yet—I suppose you would hardly let her +marry into a family that might refuse to receive her as one +of themselves?" +</p> + +<p> +"Is it likely?" the man asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"Well—possible, from what I know of Sir George Sinclair +and Lady Roscoe. Arrogance, and narrow prejudice, +you will say. But you have to remember that many intelligent +and cultivated people, who have had no connection +with India, would not see much difference between an +Englishman's marriage with an Indian girl of good +breeding, like Lilamani, or—say—with a superior ayah." +</p> + +<p> +The fighting gleam in Sir Lakshman's eye told her the +shot had gone home. +</p> + +<p> +"It is precisely about this that I must speak to Mr. Sinclair," +said he, and the fighting note was in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you can trust Nevil to make light of family +disapproval! But it will be no light matter for Lilamani. +And, for them—well, Nevil is the eldest son. It is only +natural they should think ... of his children." +</p> + +<p> +"Believe me—I think of them also. In India marriage +is for that purpose. Yet consider, for her sake, if I +refuse—what then? Stumbling-blocks at every turn," he +muttered, frowning. "I have been breaking my shins against +them all night long. I have sent word I will see +Mr. Sinclair. And, at all events, I send him away for a week. +Then—we shall see." +</p> + +<p> +"A week! Poor Nevil!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I can enter in his feelings. But she is worth +waiting for." +</p> + +<p> +With which conclusion he fell back upon silence. +Plainly his pride of caste and of fatherhood were up in +arms—which was well, from Audrey's point of view. +</p> + +<p> +The instant breakfast was over she made haste to be gone. +If she knew anything of Nevil that message would bring +him upstairs three steps at a time; and she prayed to be +spared from meeting him as she ran down. +</p> + +<p> +To-day her <i>kismet</i> was kinder. She was safe in the little +olive wood near the tennis-courts when Nevil Sinclair sped +along the passage to the corner sitting-room, marshalling +arguments that might convince the man who had power to +crush or crown him with a word. Rather odd, having a +Hindu for a father-in-law, he reflected; and hardly knew +whether he relished the idea. Still—Sir Lakshman was the +father of Lilamani, and in many respects far above the +average semi-Anglicized Asiatic. His enlightenment was not +a mere matter of Bond Street suits, slang phrases and a +motor-car. He was of the very few who assimilate the +spirit of culture with its forms; and without question he +had passed on the lighted torch to his child. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly he appeared a father-in-law of whom no man +need feel ashamed as he rose to greet the bold young Englishman, +who was displaying one of the essential qualities of +his race in his readiness to take a risk and face the +consequences: a quality that breeds great mistakes, and, by the +same token, great achievements also. +</p> + +<p> +"Good morning, Sir Lakshman. Glad to get your message," +Sinclair said, with a valiant show of assurance. +Then, irresistibly, his glance travelled towards the balcony. +</p> + +<p> +"No, she is not there," Sir Lakshman said, smiling, yet +with a touch of constraint. He had not been prepared for +sudden recrudescence of the keen primeval antagonism that +for the moment made further speech difficult. His passing +awkwardness gave Sinclair courage, and unloosed his tongue. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe I did wrong in speaking first to your daughter, +Sir Lakshman," said he, plunging valiantly into the +heart of the matter. "And I apologize. Frankly, though, +I don't regret it. If I had come to you first, you would +probably have sent me about my business." +</p> + +<p> +"That is possible." Sir Lakshman smiled more kindly. +In the face of such manly straight-speaking how should +antagonism hold its own? +</p> + +<p> +"But now that I have spoken, for God's sake don't say +you can't trust her to me!" Nevil cried out; his assurance +changed to sudden fear. +</p> + +<p> +"Sit down, Mr. Sinclair," said the Indian, laying a hand +on the young man's shoulder and gently pushing him into +the arm-chair. "It is of this that we must speak. You +come to me asking the greatest gift one man can make to +another. Well—I have strong prejudice in favour of your +country; and to yourself I took great liking on that first +evening, when you drove in your thin end of wedge. Yet +I hesitated very much even then. Better, perhaps, for +all—had I refused." +</p> + +<p> +"Can you honestly think that, sir, seeing how she is +placed?" +</p> + +<p> +"Honestly—perhaps not. But now, if I hesitate still +more, do me justice to believe it is not from doubt of +trusting her to you, but because such trusting would involve +many difficulties over which you can have no control." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—yes. That's the pith of the problem," Nevil +admitted with a frankness that raised him many degrees in +the Hindu's esteem. "I hardly slept last night for thinking +of it all. It seems she must pay a big price for the privilege +of accepting a worthless chap like me. But she's willing +to pay it. That I know—since yesterday. And I +suppose you know it too?" +</p> + +<p> +"Without a doubt. She is pure Hindu woman in her +capacity for sacrifice of self. But her eyes are dazzled. +They cannot see all it will mean. And her great loss makes +greater responsibility for you." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil nodded feelingly. He stood at the cross-roads now +with a vengeance. But the last vestige of hesitation had +been burnt up by the flame within. +</p> + +<p> +"That's true enough," said he. "And responsibility's +new to me. Audrey would tell you I don't know the +meaning of the word. But I do know that in these few weeks, +your daughter has awakened more than my heart. Isn't +my picture proof of that? And can I do more than give +you my word of honour to make her happiness my first +consideration? I admit there are difficulties I can't control. +But there are still a good few that I have power to soften. +In the first place, we could live mainly abroad. The climate +and the general atmosphere would suit her better than +England—don't you think?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; much better. But what about your people? +Your career?" +</p> + +<p> +"My career—if I achieve such a thing—was decided on +Thursday, by Martino's verdict on my picture. No more +amateur work for me after that. So, in any case, remaining +abroad gives me a double advantage. Better scope for +study, and escape from family friction at close quarters." +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman suppressed a sigh. "You are claiming +heavy price for your gift, Mr. Sinclair. For you the +substance. For me the shadow. And I am to understand there +would be even more 'family friction' as you say, if I +permit this marriage?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil hesitated, tugging at his moustache; and for a +second or so they confronted each other in silence, these +two, who so deeply and diversely loved the girl to whom the +murmur of their voices through the wall came as the sound +of an unresting sea, that had power to float or to capsize +her rosy-sailed bark of life. +</p> + +<p> +"I have the right to expect frankness from you," the +Indian began, and Nevil broke in eagerly—fearful of what +might follow: +</p> + +<p> +"You shall have it, sir; only ... such things are not +easily said. I'm afraid my people would be as much against +the marriage as against the artistry. But—I'm my own +master; and their annoyance would blow over. I promise +you I would not take her home until I made sure they would +give her the right sort of greeting." +</p> + +<p> +"That is well. I should demand it. Yet there is always +possibility it might not 'blow over'; and anyway, from +my point of view it is most distasteful to think of letting +daughter of mine marry in a family that will look on her as +what you call—<i>mésalliance</i>. It is true what Miss +Hammond said this morning. They would probably have no +knowledge of caste distinction. They would think you +have demeaned yourself——" +</p> + +<p> +"They may think what they thundering well please!" +Nevil flashed out, goaded by suspense. +</p> + +<p> +"Of yourself, certainly; if you are indifferent;" Sir +Lakshman conceded with his imperturbable dignity. "But +of her—by no means. You have to remember that although +I give much respect to your country, and am inclining +to consent, for Lilamani's sake, yet, if your father has his +pride, I too have mine. To me it seems no more honour +for her to marry with you than with any fine young fellow +of her own country. She is of old Rajput family, therefore +of good birth and lineage, like yourself. In fact, if you had +not been her equal in that, I would never give consent. +But there are other obstacles serious enough. In the first +place—her religion. For the Indian woman religion is all; +and marriage is a chief part of that religion. It is consecration +for this life and all other lives. That is the inmost reason +of <i>suttee</i>. The wife, being spiritually higher than her +husband, has all power over the welfare of his soul in future +incarnations; he, without her, having none. These are not +matters spoken of in my country between one man and +another. But only I do so because you most honestly love my +child, and because Westerns so ignorantly misjudge our +motives in the matter of our women; thinking we hold them +in contempt, because we are giving them so little material +power, which is what you peoples chiefly prize, in spite of +Christian faith. But now consider—how shall there be +marriage of consecration without unity of creed? See then, +what loss for her, that she can have no power for the +welfare of your soul." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil frowned; his fingers once more at his moustache. +Dimly he began to perceive the full complexity of a matter +he had hoped, if not expected, to settle out of hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Seems a sorry affair for her all round," he said ruefully. +"I quite thought a civil marriage would meet the difficulty." +</p> + +<p> +"So I was imagining. But to her, marriage unconsecrated +is so distasteful that rather would she change her +religion for your own, and would learn from you——" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear sir, I'm afraid my faith, what there is of it, +is as unorthodox and formless as the faith of most men +nowadays. But hers is the biggest part of her; and if she wants +a voice in the welfare of my soul, I'd almost as soon turn +Hindu myself——" +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman raised a protesting hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Put that from your mind," he said with great kindliness. +"I appreciate it as proof of your feelings. But if +religion means not a great deal to you, better, most +certainly, to keep what you have of your own. It is want of +vitality in religion that is causing so much harm in all +progressive countries to-day. But you will not mend that by +change of name, which also would do no good in the matter +I spoke of. By this marriage she would be cut off—as +she told you—from all religious rites and privileges. She +can keep only the spirit of her belief. Better therefore, civil +marriage, and for both to accept that in this case, as in too +many others, you cannot be of one mind." +</p> + +<p> +"God knows I'm willing to accept anything sooner than +lose her," Nevil made answer fervently. "And if she's +willing too, why shouldn't we have the courage of our +convictions and make the experiment?" +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman had a smile of sympathetic understanding +for the eager confidence of youth that is at once so enviable +and so pathetic to the middle-aged. +</p> + +<p> +"A big matter for experiment. You have to consider +also that marriage is for more than for personal companionship. +With us in India that counts perhaps for too little. +But at least we do very well in recognizing that chief +purpose of marriage is for continuing the race; though +unhappily there are too many signs it is not so regarded among +better classes of modern Europe and America. You will +please not take my frankness amiss. For this is a very +serious difficulty about which your father would have right to +feel strongly, you being his eldest son." +</p> + +<p> +Fresh confusion of face here for Nevil, who, in the +ardour of personal desire, had overlooked the most obvious +stumbling-block of all. +</p> + +<p> +"Jove, I didn't get as far as that!" he confessed, so +ruefully that the elder man's smile deepened to pure amusement. +"But all the same," he added valiantly ignoring the +momentary jar, "whatever my father's prejudices may be, +I'd stake my life on it that—her children and your +grandchildren couldn't have very much wrong with them, inside +or out." +</p> + +<p> +"You are more wide-minded than most men of your +race," Sir Lakshman answered, plainly gratified by such +wholesale loyalty to his Jewel of Delight. "Yet there is +one thing not to be escaped. In spite of good blood on +both sides those children must suffer the stigma of +half-breed, which Nature herself is said to abhor." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil winced: but his courage held good. "Why any +more of a stigma than if I married a well-born Spaniard or +Italian?" +</p> + +<p> +"That has always been a puzzle for me, seeing that Indians +are no less of Aryan stock than southern races of Europe. +But fact remains that in one case there is stigma; in the +other, not. Still, in my great wish to promote closer +sympathy between two so fine countries as England and India +I have often wondered would this be helped or hindered +by occasional marriage, between best on both sides. It +is very hard to tell. And, in my thinking, chief difficulty +is not so much race as religion, that is the soul of a race. +From idealist standpoint it seems as if such combination +ought to produce fine result; if only because soul of the +West is masculine and soul of the East, feminine. Yet look +how unsatisfactory the mixed race created in India by such +crossing——" +</p> + +<p> +"In most cases, surely, the wrong kind of crossing. A +marriage like ours would be quite another affair. You +know that. I declare you're on our side in heart, sir: and +it's you that should have the courage of your belief and give +your daughter a chance to work it out." +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman shook his head. "Strange that she said +much the same last night; and between both of you, it seems +as if I shall be driven to it, after all. The Moslems have +a proverb, true enough: 'When a man and a woman are +agreed, what can the Kazi do?'" +</p> + +<p> +"Give 'em their way, and wish them luck!" cried Nevil, +in open triumph. +</p> + +<p> +"So it appears! Yet the theory-maker is not often so +eager to put his theory in practice, fearing his pretty bubble +might break; and no father worthy of that name is eager +to make experiment with his own daughter. Also in my +theory-weaving I have been checked too often by a thought +that even if some of us were willing to bestow our daughters, +as I mine, how should it fare with a high-caste Hindu +who should ask an English father what you ask from me. +Now, you—who are wide-minded—what answer to that?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil hesitated, plainly at a loss. +</p> + +<p> +"There—you see!" Sir Lakshman turned out his +hands in expressive Eastern fashion. "Little use of readiness +on one side. It must also be on the other. And it is +not." +</p> + +<p> +"But—surely—there is a difference. Indians admit +it, tacitly, when they speak of Western views and customs +as enlightened. One, say your daughter's case, seems an +advance: the other—if you'll forgive me—would be, in a +measure, retrogression." +</p> + +<p> +"You think that? Well—I forgive. But I do not +entirely admit. I think only that for people of each +country their own customs are suited best. If we seem to +Westerns too much jealous for the honour of the Inside, it is +partly because marriage, as I said, is for the woman a +consecration to motherhood, almost like Roman taking of veil; +and no Hindu would allow mother of his sons to run into +such risk and temptation as English husbands permit. For +them it may be well; their men having cooler blood and +more restraint. Yet how often come tragedies! How +often family life—chief of all sanctities—is ruined by +consequence. Believe me, something can be said for both +sides: and always there is risk of suffering, if not harm, +from change that is not first prepared by development. In +my daughter's case there has been preparation—a small +measure; chiefly in hope I might one day bring her to +England and lead her to wider life. Of such means as this +I did not dream. Yet it might seem as if without knowledge +I had most carefully prepared the path. Such mystery +is in the ways of Fate." +</p> + +<p> +"I believe it was ordained from the beginning—on both +sides," Nevil declared, with indomitable conviction forged +upon the anvil of desire. "And now may I see her, sir—and +claim her promise?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not to-day," spoke the voice of inexorable calm, so +maddening when the blood is on fire. "In fact—not until +to-day week." +</p> + +<p> +"To-day week——! Why the devil——?" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Sinclair, contain yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Was it <i>her</i> wish?" +</p> + +<p> +"The suggestion was my own; and she—in spite of her +few years—has enough of wisdom to know how it is needful +to consider such important question without too much +disturbance of emotion, which nearness must bring. I cannot +let her make so great sacrifice with dazzled eyes, even +if to gain the desire of her heart. You also have to +consider, with cooler mind, your own share of sacrifice. +Because if it should happen that you are regretting when too +late; and she came to know it—as she surely would—then +by all the Gods of my fathers——!" Sir Lakshman +checked himself sharply; but the set of his jaw and the +sheet-lightning in his eyes spoke his thought more forcefully than +words. For all his lover's egoism Nevil Sinclair recognized, +beneath the schooled detachment of Eastern fatherhood, +a devotion no less ardent than his own. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not a mere boy, sir. I'm close on thirty," he said +quietly. "I've seen something of the world, and of women. +Any chance of regret, on my side, is out of the question. +Consideration for her—is another matter. It'll be a black +week for me. But I'll pull through it somehow, for her +sake." +</p> + +<p> +"Bravely said," Sir Lakshman applauded, rising to his +feet. "Better for both if you could go right away. Make +some little motor expedition with your friend Broome. +No?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil's relief was obvious. +</p> + +<p> +"A happy thought. I'll ask him. I mayn't write a line?" +</p> + +<p> +"Better not." +</p> + +<p> +"And you won't over-persuade her?" +</p> + +<p> +"You can trust me for that, Sinclair. I may call you so +now?" +</p> + +<p> +"Wish you'd make it Nevil, sir. It would sound a bit +more promising." +</p> + +<p> +"That I shall do with pleasure—when Lilamani gives +me the right." The kindness of Sir Lakshman's smile +seemed a promise in itself. "Now good-bye, and good luck +for you, till this day week. You shall hear from me if you +let me have address." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, sir. You've been uncommonly good to +me," Nevil answered, frankly returning the other's grasp. +</p> + +<p> +Then, in a mood of sadly-chastened exaltation, he went +forth in search of Cuthbert Broome. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0113"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XIII +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment."<br> + SHAKESPEARE.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +No sign of Broome in the lounge-hall; and Sinclair, +passing out on to the wide balcony-verandah, scanned +the seats where smokers and newspaper readers basked in +the strong unclouded sun of early March. Two of the +benches on the path below had been transformed into open-air +stalls; and toward these Sinclair was lured by the lover's +imperious need of giving, that is, in its essence, divine. But +choice was difficult, for a beloved so far removed from the +usual type. The trinkets were too trumpery; hairpins, +combs and brushes a trifle too intimate—as yet; +paper-knives, and their like, too impersonal, too prosaic. +</p> + +<p> +Then—while the rival pedlars volubly assailed him with +impossibilities, his eyes lighted on a pair of oval buckles in +mother-o'-pearl. By divine right of fitness, they were made +for her small golden shoes; and pushing aside the human +flies that buzzed at his ears, picked up his treasures. +</p> + +<p> +While he stood so, querying the man's preposterous +demands, behold Audrey, emerging from the olive wood, where +she had been remodelling her "sacred programme," and +metaphorically fighting the beasts, like any early Christian, +without the stage properties of arena, audience, and the +martyr's crown. +</p> + +<p> +At sight of Nevil, appraising those shimmering trifles on +his open palm, she set her lips and stood still. Escape were +impossible, nor was she in the mood for it now. There are +moments when self-chastisement dulls the edge of self-pity. +Besides—she wanted to know. +</p> + +<p> +He looked up and recognized her. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, Audrey," he said, flushing awkwardly and closing +his left hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Too late. I saw them!" she rallied him, with a forced +lightness that had its undernote of pathos and pluck. "Has +the modern dandy progressed from striped silk socks to +buckles on his pumps?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not yet! No doubt he will—in time! But—if you +saw them——" his boyish awkwardness was vexatiously +engaging—"you must know—they weren't the right +size——!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. It puzzled me. Does it mean—congratulations?" +she moistened her lips. "I understood you were +to be banished for a week." +</p> + +<p> +"So I am—bad luck to it." +</p> + +<p> +"And yet——?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, hang it all, it comes natural to a man. And I +thought—I'd give a hostage to fortune. You might wish +me luck, Audrey," he went on, paying for his hostages, and +moving away with her, "though I have so egregiously upset +your apple-cart. It's awfully tactless of me; and I +apologize humbly. But one couldn't foresee—this." +</p> + +<p> +"No, indeed!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well then——? Are you quite too angry to wish me +well? Or do you disapprove, as usual—root and branch?" +</p> + +<p> +She lifted her shoulders. "Yes. I disapprove. But I'm +not angry. I've no right to be. Only disappointed, for the +moment. Though I don't see that my disappointment or +disapproval need matter much—to either of you." +</p> + +<p> +She had turned down toward the sea in speaking; preferring +the pain of his nearness to the pain of his absence; +and she stepped beside him in resolute fashion, with long +leisurely strides. But the calm of her tone did not carry +conviction; and Nevil scrutinized her well-cut profile with +troubled gaze. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder why you say that, Audrey?" he asked in the +voice of sympathy against which she steeled herself in vain. +"Seeing that we owe pretty nearly everything to your pluck, +in persuading Sir Lakshman to bring her home. And yet—I'm +hanged if I know what's gone wrong with you!" +he broke out in honest bewilderment. "A fortnight +ago we were such good friends, I'd have sworn nothing +could come between us. But ever since I started the +picture——" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Nevil, it's not like you to make mountains out +of molehills!" Only a show of anger and open speech +could save her from betrayal. "Naturally I was anxious +about Lilamani when I saw what was happening to her. I +never believed for a moment you would dream of asking her +to become—the future Lady Sinclair; and I dreaded another +emotional crisis, that would upset her studies and her +health——" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, then—now, you ought to be satisfied. And +you're not." +</p> + +<p> +"No. You've only turned my anxieties into a fresh +channel. To me such a marriage seems little short of +madness—for you both." +</p> + +<p> +"You think I'll not understand her—that I'll make her +unhappy?" +</p> + +<p> +"God knows! If Lilamani were more like the average +Indian girl—a precocious little woman, graceful and gentle +on the surface, sensuous and subtle underneath, my chief +concern would be—for you. But she has a personality, a rare +spiritual power that may just possibly enable her to +transcend the limitations of race. I'm not over-fanciful or +impressionable; and at first I looked upon her simply as an +attractive child, with brains that I was keen to develop for +the service of her country-women. But of late I have been +compelled to recognise—quite against my will!—that +this mere child, ten years my junior, could teach me deeper +things than I could ever teach her. Nevil—when that girl +gives herself, she will give all, without reservation or stint, +as few English girls can, or will, in these days. It's this +that makes me tremble for her: and I confess I half resent +such a complete burnt-offering of personality being made for +the sake of—any man." +</p> + +<p> +"Even if he feels his own unworthiness in every fibre?" +Sinclair cried out with sudden fervour: and for a second +or two—her own pain forgotten—she regarded this new +Nevil of Lilamani's making. +</p> + +<p> +Then: "If you honestly feel that," she said slowly, "if +I could only believe you might continue to feel it—after +the gift has been given, my own loss would be easier to bear. +It will be a big loss in many ways; how big I hardly +knew—till I read that." +</p> + +<p> +Obedient, for once, to an impulse she did not stay to +analyze, Audrey Hammond handed Lilamani's note of the +morning to Lilamani's lover, and watched him while he +scanned it; the ache of jealousy clashing with the ache of +mother-love. +</p> + +<p> +Nevil Sinclair read the note twice through, lingeringly, +before handing it back. +</p> + +<p> +"Hindu or no—she's an angel of God," he said under +his breath. "Thank you for letting me see it. But it +makes me feel madder than ever at being banished for a +whole week!" +</p> + +<p> +"The best thing that could happen, all the same," said +she. "I admire Sir Lakshman's wisdom. When d'you go?" +</p> + +<p> +"This afternoon, I think; if I can fix it up with Broome. +I came out to look for him. But I'm glad I stumbled on +you first. It's been a relief, and a pleasure, to have a +friendly talk with you again. Have you seen anything of +Broome?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. He went past, while I was in the wood, with +Mrs. Despard and Signor Martino, who had his easel. I +believe he's painting on the Cap." +</p> + +<p> +"Good. Let's join them." +</p> + +<p> +"You can. I'll turn back." +</p> + +<p> +"Why? Don't you like Mrs. Despard?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. She's charming. But we don't see life from the +same angle. She'll prophesy much smoother things to you, +and wipe out all the effect of my foreboding! Good-bye!" +</p> + +<p> +"No—not that: <i>au revoir</i>! And you won't wish me +luck—even now?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can only wish—what is best, for you and her; and +honestly I don't yet know what that is." +</p> + +<p> +"But you won't frighten her off with your forebodings, +will you, Audrey? You'll play the game?" +</p> + +<p> +"I've too much of the boy in me to do anything else," +she answered, half proudly, half in bitterness. "If she is +really—yours, nothing will keep her from you." +</p> + +<p> +The last words gave an added warmth to his hand-clasp. +"If you believe that, Audrey, it should soften your +disappointment. She wasn't yours from the start. I'm +convinced you brought her all the way from India, simply that +we might meet. And some day what is really yours will +come to you for a reward." +</p> + +<p> +"Will it? I wonder." +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes and tone had a strange softness. +</p> + +<p> +"Take my word for it," he assured her, smiling: and +again, as on that first night of revelation, she stood watching +him while he left her—alone. +</p> + +<p> +Yet was Sinclair thinking more of her, in that moment, +than of his banished love. This was not the Audrey who +had greeted him, and rated him, less than a month ago. +There were new inflections in her voice; and, just now, he +could have sworn to the gleam of tears in her eyes. Then—a +sudden suspicion darted into light. Did it mean——? +Could it be ... that she...? Nonsense! He thrust +away the thought as an impertinent ebullition of masculine +vanity; and hurried on to the gleaming headland where +Martino's easel and small figure were silhouetted against the +blue, while Broome and Mrs. Despard lounged near at hand +on a fragrant cushion of lentisk. +</p> + +<p> +They waved letters and newspapers at his approach, and +Helen Despard patted the empty space at her side. +</p> + +<p> +"Good morning, Mr. Sinclair. Come and laze with us +on the most luxurious spring couch in Europe! How that +Colossus of industry, Signor Martino, can stand and paint, +hour after hour, in this lotus-eating atmosphere is beyond +me altogether. But you have earned the right to loaf; and +I want you to talk to me about that charming girl." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm ready!" Nevil answered, sinking easefully down +beside her, and sniffing the aromatic sweetness of crushed +leaves. +</p> + +<p> +Broome, leaning round on one elbow, eyed him keenly. +</p> + +<p> +"Thought I noticed a glorified air about you this +morning," said he. "What is it, my son?" +</p> + +<p> +"The best it could be. I've asked Miss Lakshman Singh +to be my wife." +</p> + +<p> +"Good Lord, Nevil! You don't mean that! I thought——" +</p> + +<p> +"You thought I was amusing myself—legitimately?" All +a lover's indignation burned in his tone. "I've just +been trying to persuade Sir Lakshman to let me marry her +at once." +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" +</p> + +<p> +"He's turned me off the premises for a week to think +things out with a cool mind, and give her a chance of doing +the same." +</p> + +<p> +Broome nodded three times decisively. "'A Daniel +come to judgment!' You mean to leave the Cap?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. A week's spin in the motor would meet the case, +if it suits you." +</p> + +<p> +"Right. I'm your man. The last of my proofs went off +yesterday, which leaves me a free agent—till next time!" +</p> + +<p> +Helen Despard, prone upon her cushion, looked from one +to the other with sympathetic interest, awaiting her cue. +But Martino, hearing vague snatches of their talk, suddenly +caught the drift of it and pounced round upon them as a +dog upon a bone. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>What</i> is that you are talking, Sinclair? Not enough +that you have painted such a wonderful picture, but you are +marrying the <i>houri</i> herself?" +</p> + +<p> +"The minute her father gives me leave," Nevil answered, +proudly content. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Sapristi</i>! But that is true romance; too seldom seen +in this age of dry bones! And I applaud your choice. +I—Martino—would have done same myself, only that I +have—lost my one lung." +</p> + +<p> +It was as if he had said "I have lost my umbrella"; and +his stoical coolness smote so sharply upon Nevil's sensitized +heart that it cost him an effort to answer, laughing: "No +fear, Martino <i>mio</i>! Not while I was alive and could wield +a pistol!" +</p> + +<p> +The Italian shrugged his lean shoulders. "<i>Ebbene</i>! +The better for my art; even like my lame inside, that +forbids me from unfaithfulness, such as you will fall into, my +friend, when that <i>houri</i> makes you the necklace of her arms, +and you cannot see the stars of heaven for the shining in her +eyes." +</p> + +<p> +But for Sinclair the vision eclipsed the warning. +</p> + +<p> +"It's my belief I shall see them ten times more clearly," +said he. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, the incomparable lover! For that I shall petition +the Holy Virgin and all the Saints. Only through some +great emotion, some lightning-flash into Heaven or +Hell—small matter which—is great achievement born. So! +If you can make full surrender, you gain the more. For +myself, I paint for your bride a sea-piece—the finest that +Martino's brush can achieve. It would please her—no?" +</p> + +<p> +"Beyond everything!" Nevil glowed visibly, Englishman +though he was. "Let it be all sea and sky, Martino. +That's how she likes it best." +</p> + +<p> +It was then that Helen Despard leaned forward, laying a +hand on his arm. +</p> + +<p> +"This makes the fairy-tale sound astonishingly real," she +said, with softly smiling eyes. "I was charmed at first +sight. I always found Indian women curiously appealing: +but I have met few of her quality. I had my suspicions on +Thursday—about you both; and I wondered very much +how far the Bohemian element in you would dominate the +average Englishman's instinct for the beaten track. It's a +daring venture. But, like Signor Martino, I applaud your +choice." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you. I felt sure you would," Nevil said simply. +But though his words were for Mrs. Despard, his eyes were +questioning Cuthbert Broome. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't feel quite so sure of me—eh, old chap?" +quoth the novelist, pensively tapping his pipe against a rock. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it's always been the trouble—hasn't it?—the +Bohemian element under your Park Lane surface! I admit +the girl's attractive enough to knock any man off his centre. +But still—what of Sir George?" +</p> + +<p> +Sinclair winced. "My affair, surely," said he, with a +touch of constraint. Then, because Broome was Broome, +and licensed to say what others might not, he added in a +changed tone: "It's rough luck on the old man, of course. +But I'm free to choose for myself. He'll admit that, if I +know him, when the first vexation's over; and I shan't take +her home till it is. Once get 'em together, I can trust her +for the rest." +</p> + +<p> +"H'm. It's conceivable—after a time. What's more, +if you leap into fame with a picture or two, as Martino +prophesies, and turn up in town with a beautiful Eastern +wife, it's quite on the cards that, in this day of volatile fads +and crazes, she might become the rage. I can just picture +certain hyper-cultivated, esoteric hostesses of my acquaintance +thrilled to the tips of their French suede gloves over +'a new find,' and discovering, with enthusiasm, that <i>saris</i> +and Hindu philosophy are the only wear— +</p> + +<p> +"Confound you, Broome!" Nevil broke in hotly—a new +Nevil indeed. "D'you think I'd let her be exploited by +a parcel of society women?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, my dear boy, he doesn't think anything of the +kind!" Thus Helen Despard extinguishing the egregious +author with wave of her hand. "He's only talking ribald +nonsense because it is his nature to! Let him alone, and +listen to me. I didn't spend fifteen years in India with +my eyes glued to one side of the picture, as some of us do. +I made many friends among high-caste native ladies and +girls, who are entering on a phase of transition as full of +disadvantages and difficulties as our own; and even more +fertile in distressing incongruities. Anklets jingling above +heavy Oxford shoes. Saris draped over unspeakable +'English jackets.' A smattering of music, and a veneer of +education from Zenana schools. But this girl—like most +Indian women of real distinction—seems to have been +educated mainly by her father, a very remarkable specimen +of the Anglicized native. Still—if you <i>do</i> marry her, +don't Westernize her more than you can help. Keep her +away from superficial English influences——" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes, that's my notion," Nevil assented eagerly, +with a triumphant glance at Broome, the extinguished, who +was consoling himself with a second pipe. "I wouldn't +change one iota of her unique, delicately-poised personality. +Her pretty poetic fancies and her quaint turns of phrase are +as much a part of her as the scent and colour are of a flower." +</p> + +<p> +"Happy for her that you are poet enough to discern +the essence of her charm—once lost, never to be recaptured. +Again and again I have been puzzled and distressed to see +how all that is vivid, beautiful, and alluring in the Indian +woman's personality becomes crude, inartistic, and +inadequate through too close contact with Western things: +the wrong things, no doubt. But it's hard to discriminate. +Keep your <i>houri</i> Eastern, in thought and feeling—<i>and +dress</i>, Mr. Sinclair, and it's possible you may learn much +from her that will make you a better man and a finer artist. +There's rank heresy for you!" +</p> + +<p> +"Then you may write me down the rankest heretic that +ever stepped." And while Broome chuckled in his beard, +Mrs. Despard patted the artist's sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +"In that case it won't shock you if I add that we have +more to learn from the East—especially perhaps from its +women-folk—than our native arrogance will let us admit. +There! my sermon's over; and I shall see all I can of Miss +Lakshman Singh while you're away. When d'you go? At +once?" +</p> + +<p> +"This afternoon; eh, Broome?" +</p> + +<p> +"M—yes. By the way. I promised to run over to +Monte Carlo for the night, on the trail of that mis-begotten +lunatic, de Lisle, who went off three days ago with some +infallible new system in his pocket, and every penny of his +wife's spare cash. Not a line from him since; and she +seems afraid he might make away with himself if he lost it +all. Best thing that could happen for her, in my private +opinion." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor soul! But how is she managing without the spare cash?" +</p> + +<p> +It was Helen Despard who spoke; and Broome, studying +the horizon with interest, made answer gruffly: "Oh, +that's been squared—for the present. And, for her sake, +I've agreed to hunt for a needle in a hay-stack. It's worth +trying on the chance. You don't mind, Nevil?" +</p> + +<p> +"Rather not. We can put in the week-end there; and +then take a run into the low hills—Cagnes, La Tourelle, +Gorge du Loup. Good to see all the old places again, with +new eyes." +</p> + +<p> +"That's fixed up, then. Two o'clock sharp." +</p> + +<p> +And on the stroke of the hour a snorting motor whirled +them forth upon their pilgrimage, through the iron gates of +the Cap Hotel; while a girl in a primrose <i>sari</i> looked after +them from the corner balcony, and knew, for the first time, +that strange and terrible feeling, as of the heart being +dragged out of the body and flung quivering into space. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0114"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XIV +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "We are children of splendour and flame,<br> + Of shuddering also and tears."<br> + WILLIAM WATSON.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +In the week of shifting scenes that followed, Nevil Sinclair +saw many things with new eyes. For love—the true, +other regarding love that lasts—is an adjusting glass, the +most delicate and infallible given to man. +</p> + +<p> +The two hours' drive, through Nice and on along the +Dantesque magnificence of the Grand Corniche road, with +the peacock-breasted sea flashing a thousand feet below, set +him yearning for the presence of his beloved, for her young, +untarnished delight in it all. Not so Monte Carlo, where +the world, the flesh, and the devil stalk naked and +unashamed; where clean sea-breezes and life-giving sunshine +seem tainted with the greed of gold, the feverish pursuit of +pleasures, artificial and meretricious, that satiate, without +satisfying, creatures designed for better things. Even to +think of Lilamani in such an atmosphere seemed desecration; +and Sinclair privately cursed de Lisle for dragging him +straight out of Paradise into this glorified human dust-bin, +where men and women of all nations and temperaments +scrabbled shamelessly for notes and gold. A man in love +is apt to resent the intrusion of ugly realities; and, in his +present mood, Sinclair marvelled how he could ever have +found the place amusing, even as a panorama of varied, if +distasteful, life. +</p> + +<p> +They spent Saturday evening in the heart of the dust-bin—the +great Casino; passing from room to room, hot and +heavy-laden with mingled odours of orris-root and patchouli; +from table to table, where silent intent men and women +massed three and four deep, automatically set down and +received doles of silver, paper or gold; their movements +regulated by the reiterate cry of the croupiers: "<i>Faites +vos jeux, messieurs. Faites vos jeux!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Anxiously they scanned the close-packed rows of faces, +frivolous or haggard, tense or stoical, according to the +player's race, temperament, or immediate run of luck; +themselves staking here a five-franc, there a ten-franc +piece, and winning, most often, because they cared little +for the game. It needed some grit on Nevil's part not to +desert his purposeful, great-hearted friend for the more +cheerful distraction of the theatre, or the divine serenity +of stars and sea faintly silvered by a moon nearing the +full. But he had promised to help; and for over an hour +they pursued the needle through the mazes of that +unsavoury hay-stack. +</p> + +<p> +No sign of de Lisle. +</p> + +<p> +"Come out of this soul-destroying temple of lust, my +son," Broome said at last, taking Sinclair by the arm. +Then—as the heavy swing doors fell to behind them, and a whiff +of cool night air gave them delicate greeting: "Phew-ew! +But it's a pestilential atmosphere, offensive to the nostrils +of sense and spirit. Tempts a man to endorse the fool who +said in his heart 'There is no God.' And we must go again +to-morrow evening—if it is the Lord's Day." +</p> + +<p> +Sinclair sighed. "Yes, worst luck. I suppose I'm a fool +not to find it amusing. But I don't." +</p> + +<p> +"Sorry, Nevil. But if you'd seen that poor plucky +woman at Antibes, agonizing over her boy, you'd not grudge +a couple of days spent in her service. And a man's not half +a man if he can't look in the face of sin and pain without +his muscles turning to jelly and his blood to gall. You +young fellows of a hyper-civilized age need reminding, at +times, that there is such a thing as wholesome brutality—and +an unwholesome delicacy. Now come on, to the +Hotel de Paris, and I'll stand you a champagne supper to +take the taste out." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Sunday was a nightmare of fruitless, unremitting search. +Casino, gendarmerie, likely hotels were ransacked for a +husband—lost, stolen, or strayed: without avail. +</p> + +<p> +"Give it up, man. You've done enough," Sinclair +urged, as they commanded <i>chocolat</i> and <i>patisserie</i>, +preparatory to a fresh start. +</p> + +<p> +"Have I?" quoth Broome, carefully choosing a sugared cake. +</p> + +<p> +The man had the persistence of natures born to succeed. +More or less Southern in temperament, he was emphatically +British in his refusal to accept defeat: and an hour later +they ran their quarry to earth, in a fourth-floor bedroom +of a second-rate Pension. But his wife—who knew de +Lisle too tragically well—had been justified of her +forebodings. +</p> + +<p> +It was the shell of that which had once been a man that +lay stiff, dishevelled, and unshorn upon the neat white +coverlet: the glazed eyes half-open, the lean hands clenched, +as in impotent defiance of the Power that made and broke +so poor a creature on the wheel of things. The untidy +dressing-table was littered with brushes, razor, a half-empty +coffee-cup, the unpaid hotel bill, and scraps of paper, covered +with hieroglyphic proofs of the infallible system that had +driven him to his death. +</p> + +<p> +Broome closed the unseeing eyes, and slipped a hand under +the gaping shirt. +</p> + +<p> +"Not long gone," he mused aloud. "Poison, most likely. +Not a word to his wife, I'll swear!" he added between his +teeth; while Nevil, with a sick sensation, compact of pity +and disgust, went over to the window that looked down into +a narrow street, and away across a forest of chimney-stacks +to a gleaming line of sea. +</p> + +<p> +The horrible sense of uncertainty, of unreality, that assails +the young and imaginative in face of the one awful actuality, +clutched at his throat. And while he wrestled with it, +ashamed of his own weakness, Broome had collected the +dead man's belongings, and rung for a waiter, who testified +that Monsieur had been present at <i>déjeuner</i>. Then they +went down, and out again, into the common, reassuring +world of life, after Broome had interviewed the manager, +written out a wire for Madame de Lisle, and made all +needful arrangements for the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +"Now then, Nevil, old man," said he, as they stepped +forth into the street. "Back you come to the Casino; fork +out your last night's winnings, and stake 'em for all you're +worth." He held up a five-franc piece. "That's all I found +in the poor chap's pockets: and, between us, we've got to +swell it into a sum worth passing on to Madame and her +boy. She's proud. But if we've honestly won the money, +we knock that pedestal from under her brave feet. Monte +Carlo's a devilish awkward place to die in; and if we mean +to see Madame through, we must put up with delays. +Come on, my son. Early dinner at the cafe. Then we'll +back our streak of luck till it turns." +</p> + +<p> +Two hours later they were backing it still; regardless of +the pestilential, over-scented atmosphere that stirs the +senses and lulls the brain; regardless of the thronging faces, +that had so painfully absorbed their attention the night +before; eye and brain concentrated upon the devil's own +pastime—hallowed, momentarily, by the hidden motive +that glorifies or debases every act of man. +</p> + +<p> +Save for an inevitable failure or two they won steadily +from first to last. Broome, in particular, played like a man +inspired; and fell asleep, near midnight, on the justifiable +conviction that the Lord's Day had not been ill spent +after all. +</p> + +<p> +Monday brought Madame de Lisle, pale, red-eyed, yet +stoically composed. In her speechless amazement and +gratitude, over their joint achievement, both men reaped +full and sufficient reward for a day that neither would +readily forget. On Tuesday Sinclair took possession of the +motor and scoured the stark, stately heights above Mentone, +while Broome did all that mortal man may do to smooth the +ground under a proud and suffering woman's feet. But if +Monte Carlo is an awkward place to die in, it is a still more +awkward place to be buried in. The endless inquiries and +formalities could neither be evaded, nor hurried. So it +came about that Nevil's interminable week was more than +half over before the blunt-nosed motor turned its back upon +the sea, and sped, purring, up and up into the green heart +of the hills. +</p> + +<p> +Crowned and fulfilled with an all-pervading peace were +the sun-kissed valleys and majestically unfolding heights of +the Alpes Maritimes, after the fret and stir of Monte Carlo, +where pain struck sharp on pleasure makes jangling music to +sensitive ears. Here were no jarring contrasts; but on +every hand, upon every tree-top, and in every cranny of +rock, the secret music and laughter of life renewing itself +with unwearied zest. Everywhere unseen forces yearned +up towards the light: and Nevil, controlling with skilful +hands the car, that throbbed under him like a live thing, +felt his own pulses chiming in tune with the season that, +in tree and bird and flower, is a festival of love made +manifest. +</p> + +<p> +Skirting the low spur where the brown, flat-topped +houses of Cagnes huddled, in picturesque disorder, among +gardens and vineyards more than half awake, they swept +up and round to the far side of that noble valley, past the +waterfall and rocky hamlet of La Tourelle, where they +stayed to unpack their lunch-basket, to smoke and lounge +among the rocks, while Nevil achieved a lightning sketch +for his beloved. +</p> + +<p> +Then down and down again into a sterner region of +volcanic rock-walls, ochre, and red, and grey, towering +higher with each mile of their descent, till they reached +their Ultima Thule, the Gorge du Loup; a gorge as wild +in nature as in name, where the Loup leaped in thunder, +over rocks and stones, between glowing cliffs, at whose feet +nestled terraced orange groves and fields of wild flowers, in all +their new bravery of purple and yellow and white: the narrow +dip spanned by great railway arches two hundred feet up. +</p> + +<p> +Here, in the one little hotel overhanging the boisterous +torrent, they spent the night; completing their pilgrimage +by a "spin" through Grasse and Cannes, and on along the +red, fantastic coast line of the Esterelles. +</p> + +<p> +Here, too, before leaving, Nevil achieved a long explanatory +letter to Sir George; denouncing himself, in his father's +own phrase, for "a damned unsatisfactory son"; and justifying +the denunciation by news of a picture, appraised of +Martino; a picture that plainly indicated the one career +in which he was like to attain distinction. He had decided, +therefore, to stay abroad for the present, and devote himself +to something better than spoiling of canvas. As for the +election; surely none of them had really believed he would +stand. They knew him for a duffer at politics. But he +had hopes of proving that he could handle a brush to some +purpose. And withal, he remained Sir George's most +affectionate, if undutiful, son ... +</p> + +<p> +A brief note of regret to Jane referred her to his father +for details; and thereafter he vented his repressed +impatience in a fervent plea to Sir Lakshman for a few lines +of assurance, that should reach him at Valescure, and enable +him, on the return journey, to ransack Cannes for a ring +approximately worthy his Jewel of Delight. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0115"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XV +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "O king, thy kingdom who from thee can wrest?<br> + What Fate shall dare uncrown thee from this breast;<br> + O god-born lover,—whom my love doth gird<br> + And armour with impregnable delight<br> + Of Hope's triumphant, keen, flame-carven sword?"<br> + SAROJINI NAIDU.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +And of her, who looked shyly for his return, what record +through those days of waiting; of quickened breath and +fluttering pulse? +</p> + +<p> +While Sinclair, with the restless energy that is the +hallmark of the male throughout creation, sought distraction +in movement from the fever of longing, Lilamani went +softly down the days of her appointed week, accepting it +with all the fundamental woman's capacity for still +endurance and folded wings. While Sinclair looked without, +she looked within; marvelling, now at her own daring, +now at her unworthiness—unrepentant rebel as she was. +The wonder of it all, the miracle of unlooked-for escape +from those grey studies dazzled heart and brain, as Sir +Lakshman had said. It was as if enclosing walls had +crumbled at a touch, setting her in a blaze of sunlight, that +warmed and cheered and—above all—gave promise of +womanhood made perfect through renewal of life. Yet +it demanded no small venture of faith to go forward, +irrevocably, along this unknown, if alluring, way of the heart. +Like all ways leading to the next-door House of Life it +must needs have ups and downs; stones also, it might +be—and shadows. +</p> + +<p> +The first of these—a mere cloudlet—blurred already +her clear sky of dawning. It had hurt her inexpressibly to +realize that her lover had taken for granted the unconsecrate +marriage by law; that their difference of religion +affected him little, if at all. Tactfully and delicately as her +father had broken the truth to her, there had been need of +much silent wrestling and praying to induce the conviction +that she could endure all things sooner than face the blank +of life without him. To such fullness of knowledge she had +attained in those first bewildering days of his absence: and, +recognizing this, gloried, woman-like, in the wisdom of that +dear father, who was her "Wise Man, Truth-named"; +father and Guru in one. +</p> + +<p> +As for that other, chosen lord of her life—not yet to be +named, even in thought—her Eastern woman's instinct of +worship, and skill in glossing over flaws, convinced her +finally that his ready acceptance of mere legal marriage had +arisen from reluctance to suggest the supreme renunciation +on her part that a religious ceremony would involve. And +through her secret pain and shrinking ran the one gold +thread of consolation that, loyalty at least would be +permitted to the faith of her country and her ancestors; +excommunicate though she would be from the rites, feastings, +and sacrifices that absorb more than half the Hindu woman's +life. These she had learnt to regard as garments of religion; +and Sir Lakshman assured her that the gods, not being +man-made like priests, would surely not reject sacrifice and +incense of the soul. So he believed; while yet he prayed—with +human inconsistency—that if fatherly love had led +him into "benevolent falsehood," his lapse from accuracy +might not be visited on her. +</p> + +<p> +And she—having wrestled and overcome—quietly set +about preparing herself for the great consecration, in much +the same spirit as a novice might prepare for the veil. +True, in her case no stricter retirement would follow upon +betrothal: yet could not a few months of freedom dispel that +instinct for purdah, so deeply ingrained in the soul of her +race, that the word has become a synonym for family honour, +modesty, prestige. Of the customary prelude—the colourful +pageant of sacrifice, feastings, and gift-bringings—she +could have none. Greater need therefore, to her mind, for +personal purifying by prayer, fasting, and meditation, that +body might become subordinate to spirit; even as she, +Life-bringer, would become subordinate to him, Life-giver, when +the days were accomplished that she should be his. Symbolism, +always symbolism. It is the Hindu woman's breath of +being. For where complexities of outer life are denied, the +soul must live by thought and feeling, or die outright. +</p> + +<p> +But East and West agree at least in this, that a good +deed is twice itself when the right hand knows not what the +left hand doeth. So did Lilamani, quite simply and instinctively, +devote the night to her spiritual preparation; reducing +sleep to a minimum, and in reserving only the first hour of +the morning and the last hour of light for reading, or +meditation, alone in her House of Gods. +</p> + +<p> +In addition to translations of her own sacred books, she +renewed her acquaintance with the Holy Book of her lover's +country, choosing her favourite Gospel of John and +St. Paul's dissertations on wifely submission and womanly +modesty; finding in both, as always, fresh confirmation of +her father's teaching, that the light of the one great Unseen +dwelling behind the veil of the seen shines alike through all +forms of doctrine and worship. +</p> + +<p> +Then with the quaint incongruity that belongs to transition, +her study of St. Paul would culminate in a form of +prayer to Sarasvati, Goddess of Wisdom: "She who, +robed in white, sets far all ignorance. She who abides with +the Creator, may she abide with me——"; or Mai Lakshmi, +Goddess of Fortune, would be entreated to make her a wife +not less perfect in devotion and mighty in renunciation than +Sita, the ideal woman of Hindu legend, and heroine of +India's great Epic the Ramayāna. Even from dim days of +childhood, Rāma's unsullied queen had reigned supreme in +Lilamani's heart—had been, as it were, her chosen patron +saint, upon whose character she must strive to model her +own. It is in this fashion that India's two great Epics have +become so closely inwoven with her national life and religion. +To be called by her father his little Sita Dévi, had been, and +still was, Lilamani's crowning reward for an act of +self-suppression, or a day well spent; so now it was Sita who +dwelt constantly in her thoughts during her hours of secret +vigil. +</p> + +<p> +But the fasting, not to be foregone, could by no means be +achieved in secret. Her father she could trust to see +without seeing, and say no word. Not so Audrey, who was +bound in honour to protest on the score of her own private +godling—Health; and the girl shrank from speech on the +subject, with one who could not be expected to understand. +She supposed that even the unveiled bride of the West could +not approach so great an event without some form of +sanctification. But to her, the subject seemed too intimate +for discussion. +</p> + +<p> +With the smiling <i>insouciance</i> of one who does quite the +ordinary thing, she drank tea at breakfast, milk at lunch, +and ate no food till after sundown. Even then her meal +was of the lightest; and to Audrey's anxious remonstrance +she answered with sweet reasonableness: "Why must I +eat—if not hungry?" +</p> + +<p> +Had not Audrey been herself in love with the prospective +bridegroom, it is possible she would have jarred the Eastern +girl, by attributing this to his absence. For, while we of the +West profess to hold love sacred, there remains the paradox +that we hold it also fair game for the most inept form of +humour, aptly called "chaff." Happily, Audrey's lips were +sealed: but a repetition of no breakfast and no lunch brought +the direct question Lilamani dreaded. She gave the direct +answer, briefly as might be, with eyes downcast and cheeks +that burned; while Audrey, unversed in certain phases of +Indian life, realized, as never yet, that this poetic, passionate +child, deeply imbued with the primitive woman-soul of the +East, could never have been hers to mould and make into a +student of medicine, a pioneer of the brain. In that +realization she could, and did, forgive Nevil much; though +her own disappointment was none the less keen. +</p> + +<p> +"You are thinking me a too much foolish Lilamani?" +the soft voice ended on a note of pleading. "But with +us—it is custom. Father understands." +</p> + +<p> +And Audrey recognized by now the finality of that last. +She could only counteract it by a tentative appeal to vanity, +quite against her principles. But of late these had been +tumbling about her like a house of cards. +</p> + +<p> +"No, dear, I've never thought you foolish," she said with +unwonted gentleness. "Only remember you are marrying—an +Englishman, who won't understand such things. He +will come back expecting to find the same beautiful +bright-eyed Lilamani. But if you starve you won't sleep; and +where will your bright eyes be then? Do what you think +right. But I advise you to eat and sleep normally the last +two days; or the very joy of it all may upset you, and make +you ill. Not pleasant for him; and as <i>I</i>'ve done my best to +get you strong, it would be sad to go away and leave you +more or less of a wreck——" +</p> + +<p> +"Leave me? But Audrey—why that?" +</p> + +<p> +Her dark eyes echoed the question, in pained surprise; +and Audrey looked deep into them before answering. She +had her own confession to make. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear child, what else?" she asked, forcing a smile. +"No more studies after next Saturday; so no more need of +me. I met a friend in Cannes yesterday, who is stopping at +Mentone. She wants me to go over and see her; and I +thought of leaving on Friday——" +</p> + +<p> +"So soon? Leaving your Lilamani, for always?" +</p> + +<p> +Audrey Hammond's arm went round the girl's slender +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you really mind as much as all that?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +Tears welled up into the great brown eyes. Caresses +from Audrey were rare enough to make both feel a little +shy of them; and Lilamani looked down again, choking +back her "foolishness." +</p> + +<p> +"How could I not mind?" said she. "It is all through +you—this wonderful thing. But it will not be yet! +Father said so. And—I was hoping——" +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated; and Audrey caught her breath. "What +were you hoping, child?" +</p> + +<p> +"If only—you could come too, for a little time—and +teach me, that I should not feel so strange for that lonely +fashion—of English marriage. Oh, are you angry? I +didn't mean..." +</p> + +<p> +For Audrey had looked up sharply, white to the lips. +"Lilamani, that's impossible. You don't understand." Then +seeing a quiver of pain on the sensitive face, she added +more quietly, "Is it only that you are afraid of the +strangeness, or—that you want me a little too?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is half—I am afraid; and half, I am greedy, wanting +you too. But if that is wrong, then I must not make storms +in the tea-cup, like you say. Only when I am trying to +think it all, my mind comes quite in a fog. No mother-in-law +to teach new-made wife. No brothers and sisters—of +him. No women-peoples for companion or for home-duties——" She +smiled a little wistfully, shaking her head. +</p> + +<p> +Even here in the hotel, with studies for home-duties and +one "woman-person" to replace the small colony of +relations—by blood and marriage—she had missed, at times, the +cloistered seclusion and intricate etiquette and deference +to the claims of others that are the key-notes of Hindu +home-life; and Audrey, recognizing this, felt the more +anxious as to the outcome of Nevil's daring leap in the dark. +But for Lilamani's sake at least she would do her best to +make the crooked straight and the rough places plain. +</p> + +<p> +"You will have women-peoples in time, dear," said she. +"If you manage to make friends. But, though the Englishman +denounces purdah, he has his own variation of it. If an +Indian wife may not go abroad, your joint-family system +gives you a little world of life under your own roof. The +English wife has her world of people outside; but in the +home her husband, if he loves her, wants her for himself, +especially in the first few years. You see, with us marriage +is a much personal affair. An English husband wants more +than a mother for his sons. He wants a woman companion, +specially devoted to him." +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani nodded pensively, though still with puzzled +brows. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. That I have come to know a little, from your +novel stories. It is beautiful; and—I must learn. But +sometimes, I am thinking—with us it is even more beautiful; +to become, by sacredness of bond, even from childhood, +so truthfully one that both are almost seeming to forget each +other, in welfare of family. Only in their secret hearts they +carry the light." +</p> + +<p> +Moved beyond her wont, Audrey Hammond drew the +girl closer and kissed her forehead. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, child, whatever happens, I believe you will always +carry your light," said she; and Lilamani, shyly, in the midst +of her blushes: +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps one day—you also—— +</p> + +<p> +"No, no. I'm not the type." +</p> + +<p> +A hint of bitterness in her tone saddened the girl, who +was herself so essentially "the type," primal yet eternal, +that inspires, through the ages, the worshipful love of +men. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it that you really like better the way of the brain?" +she hazarded gently, surprised and pleased at such intimate +talk with Audrey, the inaccessible. "Or—have you no +father to make arrangement—to give dowry?" +</p> + +<p> +A smile, half-amused, half-wistful lightened Audrey's +gravity. "No, I have no father. And if I had, he would +not 'make arrangement'! We English think we believe in +marriage. But we believe still more in personal freedom; +and our women are left to shift for themselves. As for the +compulsory dowry—in that matter we might very well take +a lesson from India. If English fathers were bound to +provide for their daughters, the Woman Question might be +less acute than it is." +</p> + +<p> +"Woman Question? What is that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Happy little ignoramus! It's a disease of modern +civilization. A riddle without an answer; and I'm a part +of it. But don't trouble your pretty head about me, dear. +After all, the life I've chosen gives me a kind of satisfaction +it could never give you. When my leave is up, I shall go +back to Hyderabad; and perhaps find another brave girl +among your women-folk to help me with my work." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes—there are so many in these nowadays, eager +for way of the brain. You will surely find a much more +commonsense Lilamani, not so troubled by ugly words." +</p> + +<p> +"But, never, I think, one with such a talent for creeping +into other people's hearts!" Audrey answered with so rare +a tenderness that—for the first time, in months of close +intercourse—the girl's arms went round her in a young +spontaneous caress. +</p> + +<p> +"Please not quite leave me," she whispered. "Since I +was coming from India, you have been for me like—like +Mataji; and I can't forget you ever." +</p> + +<p> +That was Audrey Hammond's good minute; though +Lilamani guessed it not; a reward quite other than she +looked for, as is the way of rewards; the gain through loss, +in which it is so difficult to believe till the heart responds to +its touch. Persistence along the stormy paths of study +would have ended in alienation; but one touch of nature, +shared unconsciously, though decreeing separation, drew +them closer than either could have believed three weeks ago. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Thus, illumined by the white joy of a closer understanding, +the days slipped peacefully by. Audrey made no further +protest; though her medical conscience pricked her at sight +of paling cheeks and darkly-shadowed eyes. But when +Friday brought the parting, she pleaded once more for +normal meals, these last two days, if only on account of +someone, never directly named between them: and +Lilamani, feeling not a little unstrung by recent austerities, +could not say her nay. Mrs. Despard had gladly undertaken +to "mother" her during Audrey's absence; but so +soon as dates were fixed she would write, and Audrey must +come back. Audrey would. She promised. And so an end. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani had meant to sleep that night, having given +her word. But habit prevailed; and she lay, acutely awake, +with sealed lids, counting the hours, that seemed to elongate, +like stretched elastic, as they neared the dawn. Then she +slept heavily; and Sir Lakshman, who guessed at the week's +programme, allowed her to sleep till noon. +</p> + +<p> +It was tea-time—thronged tables under the white, wide +awning proclaimed the fact—when a much-travelled motor +drew up at the foot of the hotel steps. Broome grasped +the wheel—having refused to trust the life of an invaluable +parent to the hands of an accepted lover; and Sir Lakshman +met them in the deserted hall. +</p> + +<p> +"I may go up and claim her?" Sinclair demanded eagerly, +when Broome had passed on. +</p> + +<p> +"You may. That is her wish." +</p> + +<p> +"And yours, I hope?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—mine also. Since she is trusting you from her +heart, I am agreeing to trust you also, with biggest proof +father can give." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank God you see it that way, sir——" They were +nearing the lift now. "My thanks to you I can only +prove—through her." +</p> + +<p> +"That is how I look for you to prove them," the other +answered almost sternly, his hand upon the doors. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll do my utmost. On my honour, I will. And—I +may see her alone? It's our way, you know." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. But it is her wish that first there should be some +small formality of giving. With us betrothal is not mere +personal promise; but religious ceremony. It is, in fact, +true marriage, sanctifying union—if consummated or +no—through all lives to come. This it will mean for her. +Therefore she is wishing that first I make my gift, joining +your hands, in our own fashion; then, conforming to your +custom, I leave her with you." +</p> + +<p> +On that understanding they went up together, and along +the passage to the corner room; Sir Lakshman ahead, Nevil +following, his thumb and finger at the waistcoat pocket +where two rings were nestling—merely to assure himself +they were there. +</p> + +<p> +Then the door opened and he had the desire of his +eyes.... +</p> + +<p> +Alone upon the hearthrug she stood, her drooping head +turned from the door, <i>sari</i> drawn forward, as of old, half +hiding her face, restless fingers shifting her bangles up and +down the bare slenderness of her arms. There were more +bangles than usual—in honour of his coming; delicate +trifles of jade and glass and gold. Above the soft silk +under-robe of palest green, shot through with golden +light, was wound and draped a <i>sari</i>, quite new to Nevil, +of true deep indigo, like the night sky, gold-bordered and +flecked with golden stars. No shoes upon the small feet, +slender and shapely as her hands; silk stockings only, green +like her skirt, and anklets of gold; the first he had seen. +For she had learnt the unfitness of wearing them over +English shoes. +</p> + +<p> +Very still she stood, and from the whole of her, from +curved instep to veiled head, emanated the peculiarly +Eastern mingling of demure aloofness with a delicately +direct appeal to the senses and the heart. Possibly some +instinct had impelled her, before it was too late, to bid +him remember the gulf between; and he, who had drawn +so close to her in spirit, since that day of mutual revealing, +was arrested by a sudden sense of strangeness, of the veil +down-dropt between them, as at first. +</p> + +<p> +All the week long he had been picturing over and over +this moment of vision: the first glance, the first words, the +first rapture of reunion: nor was he analytical enough to +realize how the very intensity of anticipation robs reality of +its due. For the space of a heart-beat or two, he saw this +marriage as through the eyes of Jane: and for that space—he +was afraid. +</p> + +<p> +Then—hearing them enter—she turned with an audible +catch in her breath, and fear fled, stricken and shamefaced, +once for all. +</p> + +<p> +Framed in the dusk of the <i>sari</i> her beauty shone out with +a moon-like pallor that intensified the red of her lips, as +the faint shadows, left by sleepless nights, intensified the +deeps of her eyes, when they flashed a smile at him for +greeting. Four rows of pearls made a gleaming collar round +her throat; and beneath it on a fine chain one great diamond +shone out, five-pointed, like a star. Clearly she no +more dreamed of speaking at such a moment than an +English bride would dream of bidding her groom good +morning at the altar rails. If her wedding must perforce +be an affair of registration, she could, and did, impart to +this simple ceremony of giving her own deep sense of the +moment's sanctity; while Nevil Sinclair, touched to the +heart, was thankful to defer speech till he could have her +to himself. +</p> + +<p> +And now her head was bowed again; for Sir Lakshman +had taken her hand, joining it with her lover's, and enclosing +them in both his own. +</p> + +<p> +"Nevil Sinclair," he said with simple dignity, looking the +Englishman in the eyes, "I, Lakshman Singh, give you this +most priceless daughter of mine, confiding that you will +cherish and protect her through your whole life; and in +fervent belief that she will fulfil to you all duties of +wifehood with loyal and loving heart. Give both hands, +Lilamani, in token that nothing is kept back." +</p> + +<p> +Both hands she gave him, and Sinclair, bereft of words, +could only press them to his lips; while Sir Lakshman +conferring a mute benediction on his daughter's head, went +quietly out, leaving them alone. +</p> + +<p> +For a space they stood so, in a throbbing silence, that +enfolded them like a spell of enchantment, difficult to break. +Then very softly, Sinclair spoke her name. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani." +</p> + +<p> +For answer came her passionate murmur: "Live for +ever, my Lord and my King." +</p> + +<p> +The sheer unexpectedness of it unloosed his tongue. +</p> + +<p> +"Beloved! You shame me to earth!" he cried in genuine +distress. "I'm no fit subject for a woman's worship. +Yours less than any." +</p> + +<p> +Smiling, though without looking up, she shook her small +wise head. +</p> + +<p> +"That is no matter at all. In my country—husband of +every true woman is even as her God." +</p> + +<p> +"It's not so in mine, by any means," he answered drawing +her close, yet restraining himself because of the delicate +tremor that ran through her. +</p> + +<p> +"No? How pity! The woman is losing so much——" +the right to serve and worship and the glory of it, that was +her Eastern view. "But with me you will permit——? +You could not prevent——!" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid I wouldn't, if I could," he said with sudden +fervour. Then, taking out the ring, that had delayed his +coming a full hour, he slipped it gently on to her marriage +finger. "That is my form of betrothal, Lilamani. The +ring of promise." +</p> + +<p> +It was a heart-shaped aquamarine, limpid as a drop of +sea-water, set in brilliants: and at sight of it she caught her +breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but how kind! How beautiful beyond telling! +Like Mrs. Despard's pendant that I must be looking +at—always." +</p> + +<p> +"You shall have one—soon," he told her, exulting in +his power to please her every way. "But now"—she was +drawn closer still—"I want something in return for my +ring of promise. Something you would not give me under +the arch. I've been wanting and waiting for it a whole +week. Tell me I may have it now—Jewel of Delight!" +</p> + +<p> +She told him. And he, taking her veiled head between +his hands, set the seal of their compact first upon her +down-dropped lids, and last upon her lips, claiming to the full +their shy, soft passion of surrender. Then, with a low, +broken sound, she withdrew them and fell sobbing on his +breast. +</p> + +<p> +Lightly lifting her in his arms, as if in fear that she might +break on too strong pressure, he carried her to a low chair +that looked upon her balcony, and away, over tree-tops to +the sea. There he set her down, kneeling beside her, and +whispering persuasively at her ear: "My Bride of the +Rain—is it only a sun shower? Or is she broken-hearted, +at having promised herself to a barbarous English husband?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—oh yes—she is too much broken-hearted!"—laughter +gleamed suddenly through her tears—"and +also—too much foolish. A little, how Audrey calls 'run +down,' by not sleeping a great deal, these few nights——" +</p> + +<p> +"Thinking of me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she answered, with truth; then veiling her eyes: +"And ... how to make myself good wife in such +unknown fashion, hard to understand——" +</p> + +<p> +"Not so very hard. Trust me to make it easy for you, +darling, once you give me the right. When is that to be, +Lilamani—when? I've an ideal home all ready for you." +</p> + +<p> +"A home?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, true. That good chap Broome has offered me his +villa on Lake Como for the summer. A little lone place, +under a great rock, close to the water's edge, opposite +Cadenabbia, in Italy, where Martino lives. Think of that: +a real home, waiting for the bride. When will she come? +Next week?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh no—no! How you are impatient!" She put +forth a shy hand and caressed the dull gold of his hair. +"Have you not spoken with father?" +</p> + +<p> +"Only a word or two. I came back to claim his child. +What's the delay? What must we wait for now?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, so much; and you must please not make trouble +for that. Father wishes that first I should get stronger; +and I wish, from home, our Indian wedding-ring: bangle +of iron, covered in gold; also—other things for this kind +of other life so different to my expecting. That must mean +five weeks, or six." +</p> + +<p> +"A lifetime! But at least I shall be here. I shall see you." +</p> + +<p> +"For two weeks—yes. After that he is thinking better +for both if you go to Paris for studying, and put this +troublesome Lilamani a little from your head——." +</p> + +<p> +Sinclair sighed. "He's a horribly wise man, that father +of yours. And does this troublesome Lilamani honestly +wish to be put out of my head, even for a little?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. Not for one smallest minute," she murmured, and +was caught close again for reward. And again her exquisite +fragility held his ardour in restraint. So yielding, so +unsubstantial a creature was she, in her soft natural draperies, +that it was as if he enfolded some fragrant ethereal essence +of the eternal feminine rather than a woman of flesh and +blood. +</p> + +<p> +This he told her, in lover's language, his lips at her ear: +and she—drawing herself away from him with pretty +dignity: "At the same time it is truthfully a woman; and +inside it ... there is fire ... of so great love that not +all the waters from my beautiful sea could put out +ever—ever——. That is what my <i>sari</i> has been telling you, +without speech, all this while. But your eyes are still too deaf +for language of colour——" +</p> + +<p> +"They're not blind anyway! They saw, and admired. +What is it telling me, Lilamani, this beautiful new dress? +I want to know." +</p> + +<p> +"Listen then—lord of my life," she answered very +softly. "With us, indigo is for constancy of love, because +it is dye that nothing will remove. This green of my skirt, +like young leaves, is for hope—for new life. Gold and +pearls are for purity: and this"—touching the star that +flashed like a prisoned sunbeam—"gift of my father, is for +happiness with ... with..." +</p> + +<p> +Shyness overwhelmed her. +</p> + +<p> +"Nevil?" he prompted tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Well then, let me hear you say it. I've been +waiting—all this time." +</p> + +<p> +"With us, it is not custom even when married to take +the name of—beloved," she told him with averted eyes; +and stooping he kissed her with sudden passion. +</p> + +<p> +"Beloved's good enough for me. But still ... as the +promised wife of an Englishman, it's only fair—isn't +t?—that you should study our customs a little, too?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—yes. With all my heart I am wishing +it—Nevil." And at that, he kissed her again. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +END OF BOOK I +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0201"></a></p> + +<h2> +BOOK II +<br> +THE BLOSSOMING +</h2> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER I +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "And now my cheek is warm against thy cheek;<br> + Yet, is Love satisfied? Nay,—evermore<br> + Thy hands are full of promise;...<br> + Joy hath joy in store<br> + And heaven another heaven within its skies."<br> + J. H. COUSINS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Every detail in the little room—save the well-grate +with its plain oak mantel—breathed of India, even +to the warmth and fragrance of an atmosphere charged +with spices, sandalwood and attar of rose. +</p> + +<p> +Over one door a Punjab <i>phulkari</i> made a blaze of gold. +Over another hung a priceless embroidered panel—green +and purple cunningly inwrought. On the walls, two pictures +only; one of Sir Lakshman Singh, in State dress, and +an old Indian painting of the sacred three—Rama, Sita, +and the devoted Lakshman—setting out, in "coats of bark," +for their fourteen years of banishment. Over the mantel-piece, +with its gleaming rows of <i>lotahs</i>, a square of vellum, +gold bordered and lettered in gold, "There is no likeness of +Him whose name is great glory. Deathless they become +who, in heart and mind, know him as heart-dwelling." +</p> + +<p> +For the rest, an octagonal table, bearing a sandalwood +casket and the Bhagavad Gita; velvet-soft prayer-rugs on +the matted floor; a native bedstead of red lacquer, and +a low square stool of the same, whereon sat the guardian +spirit of the place, in pearl-white robe, and <i>sari</i> +golden-edged: Lilamani Sinclair, bride of six weeks' standing. +The magic circlet of gold gleamed beneath the drop of +sea-water shaped like her heart; and upon her slender wrist, +the wedding-bracelet of her own land. At her throat hung +the promised pendant, shimmering drops of water and light; +and her father's star of happiness transformed into a brooch +fastened the drapery on her left shoulder; a modern +innovation, worn for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +Little of the West about this girl-bride beyond her ring +and her English name. But even had she chosen to exchange +her <i>sari</i> for a Paris "coiffure," and her simple robe +for a Paquin "creation," her doings would have bewrayed +her. Crouched upon the stool before a primitive brick oven, +set up under her own supervision, she was absorbed in +cooking her lord's dinner; a service so sacred to the Hindu +wife that a special garment of silk fibre is reserved for that +function and for prayer. +</p> + +<p> +Europe nominally endorses the Divine command: "He +that is greatest among you let him be your servant." Asia +acts upon it. In a Hindu household domestic service—as +the West understands it—is not. All home duties, +save the most menial, are carried out by sisters, daughters, +daughters-in-law, under supervision of their ruler-in-chief—the +mother; though here, as elsewhere, change is creeping +in. Drudgery? She of Asia would resent the implication. +Her law of life rests upon one basic principle: The highest +may serve the lowest, but may accept service only from +the highest. +</p> + +<p> +And woman stands, spiritually, higher than man, because +"she alone is capable of conquest—for others." Logically, +then—and Asia is nothing if not logical—"to accept +service and devotion of any is the highest honour you can +pay her." That is the core of the Indian woman's credo; +the lamp hidden in her heart; and by the light of it many +perplexities are made plain. +</p> + +<p> +But when a woman, for whom service and worship are +birthright and crown of glory, mates with a man in whom +the Western idea of chivalry has not been quite crushed out +by the haste and pressure of an unchivalrous age, +complications are born. +</p> + +<p> +That the wife of Nevil Sinclair of Bramleigh Beeches +should cook her husband's dinner—only his dinner, she +urged, deeming the request a modest one—did not square +with his British sense of fitness, Bohemian though he was. +What is more, he distrusted amateur cookery; little +dreaming of the talent he bade her hide under a bushel; +and of which she had been too shy to speak. "What +would his valet think?" he had asked, "and Broome's +Italian <i>chef</i> and the little waiting-maid?" Dread questions, +for which she could find no answer. Only, beneath +her wifely submission, had dwelt a faint hope that possibly, +when he should see the contents of those boxes from +India——! +</p> + +<p> +Two weeks after their first shy home-coming these had +arrived; and from out of them had come the store of simple +home belongings, that had brought a sense of familiar +sweetness into her new nest. Then had she laid before him the +shining row of brass plates and <i>lotahs</i>, the boxes of spices, +of shredded cocoanut and herbs. +</p> + +<p> +"All the way from India they came for you. Must they +not be used ever? Even if only sometimes for game of +play?" Then, with a captivating honesty and confusion +of face, she denied that last. "No, for me it is not play. +With us, I have told you, worship of husband is worship of +Life-force. And if food is fuel for keeping that flame +alight, shall it not be sacred duty and privilege for wife +to prepare it?" +</p> + +<p> +And he, without waste of words, had set the seal of +permission upon her lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Not every day," had been his sole stipulation; "once +or twice a week; or on great occasions"; thus instinctively +annulling domestic comment. Intermittent ebullitions of +cookery might be accepted as an Indian lady's whim. +</p> + +<p> +And Lilamani, lifted far beyond thought of comment, +had enjoyed her small triumph to the full. Her first curry +and <i>pillau</i>, her irresistible sweets and lightly-tossed +chupattis had been a revelation to Nevil, shaming his distrust; +and upon the third great occasion, when she had won leave +to cook all three courses of their simple meal, he had +laughingly warned her that it might end in his refusing to +eat a dinner prepared by any hands but her own. +</p> + +<p> +"That is how it should be for true honour of the house," +she had answered, smiling demurely. +</p> + +<p> +And this golden 14th of June, that completed her +eighteenth year and her sixth week of marriage, was a day +of privilege, past question. +</p> + +<p> +Six beatific weeks, sun-filled and love-enchanted, they +had spent in Broome's chalet, set in a shelving cove, under +the lee of a rugged hill, its balconies and verandah +overlooking Como's blue stillness, now blurred with pearl-white +films, now pierced by a million quivering points of +light. Too still almost, it seemed to Lilamani, after the +changeful majesty of her sea. Yet that very stillness, as of +some harmonized Yogi purged from passion, spoke to her +heart of the palm-girt lakes in her own Hyderabad; and +through them, of dear, far and familiar things never again +to be seen, or heard, or felt while breath remained in her +body. What this completeness of severance meant to her +she dared not admit even in her most secret thoughts. +There were inevitable moments when the prick of remembrance +intruded upon her joy. Yet each day that passed +deepened her conviction that she had chosen aright; and +this "lonely fashion of English marriage" proved itself not +so hard to understand, after all. +</p> + +<p> +But even the devotion of a new-made husband had not +availed to soften the wrench of parting from that father, +who had been parent, comrade and spiritual guide in one. +Each smallest happening of that last unwedded week was +graven upon the tablets of her heart: a week of tangled +emotions, overlaid with a smiling stillness that had almost +deceived Sir Lakshman himself. Once only had her +self-control gone to pieces. The mail that brought her +wedding-bangle and other necessaries, had brought no word to +her from Mataji. How should it? Yet, with the divine +inconsistency of human nature, she had hoped against hope. +She could not know that all Mataji's bitterness had been +vented in a vehement, incoherent letter to Sir Lakshman +that had cut her husband to the heart, while it revivified +all the devils of misgiving he had trampled under foot +in the days following upon Nevil's declaration. Not +for a kingdom would he have spoken of it to his child, +who was sufficiently upset by her sole word of greeting +from home. +</p> + +<p> +Even Ram Singh, favourite elder brother and playmate +could not write otherwise than in sorrow of an event that, +at one stroke, cut every thread binding his sister to home +and country. Some day, perhaps, Destiny would bring him +to England. There they might meet, if her English husband +would permit. Till then he would write without fail: +and, in a tear-blotted postscript, Vimala—blowing her a +kiss across the "black water"—promised to write also, +though pens were not her favourite toys, and it was not +letters she wanted, but her "dear own Lilamani" who +would never come home again. +</p> + +<p> +Impossible to hide from Sir Lakshman the turmoil +wrought by such letters and by Mataji's tacit repudiation of +her child. But at least he should not see her tears. It +was on Audrey's shoulder that she had cried till the black +demons of fear and disloyalty had been washed clean out of +her anguished heart. +</p> + +<p> +For Audrey, true to her word, had come back just before +Nevil started for Paris, and had left again—upon a +flawless pretext—on the eve of his return. Her going +broke yet another link with India, and the pain of it was +acute. But with the coming of Nevil, love's warmth +and light had enveloped the girl, till the day of days, +arising out the East, called on her to quit her dream +Paradise and grasp the shining, implacable facts of life; +to make good her irrevocable gift, and break the last link, +the last link— +</p> + +<p> +Something of this final pang Sir Lakshman had foreseen, +and his had been the happy idea of shipping home the +modest contents of her room in India, supplemented by +rugs and embroideries of his own bestowing. +</p> + +<p> +On that day of days Mrs. Despard had been all a mother +to the tremulous girl-bride, deprived alike of mother's +blessing and bridal rights. Together they had hidden away all +trace of what Lilamani called her "Hindu-ness" under +the hood and long cloak devised by Audrey for her first +flight. A fine lace veil tied beneath her hood shielded the +girl from curious eyes; and in the after-hours she had blessed +that kindly veil from her heart. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Vividly it all came back to her, while she sat alone, in her +shrine: the early start; the motor-drive to Nice; the brief, +unromantic formalities, that had joined them irrevocably +as any immemorial rites, or sevenfold circling of the sacred +fire; and afterwards, the lifting of her veil, while he—her +husband—set the ring upon her finger, the bracelet +on her wrist, the sacramental kiss upon her lips. Then—the +wrench of parting from Mrs. Despard, who must return +to Antibes, while they three fared on to Milan in +luxurious privacy; the two men, tenderly considerate, leaving +her to absorb, as in a dream, the colourful beauties of +Italy's coast line, till a sudden, overpowering weariness +blotted out all things; and she knew no more. +</p> + +<p> +Not until the following morning had she awakened fully +from that blessed spell of stupor—Nature's reaction from +another week of secret austerities. Dimly she had been +aware of the journey's ending, of noise and flashing lights; +of a glass held to her lips; then the vague thrill of her +husband's arms, the cool softness of the bed that received +her; the touch of hands that freed her deftly from cloak +and hood, unwound her <i>sari</i> and covered her with a quilt. +By that time she was too far gone again in sleep to feel his +kiss on her eyelids and on the dear, unveiled head, seen so for +the first time. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning she awoke in full sunlight to find herself +alone on the great white bed. And while she lay wondering +mistily over it all, he—Nevil—had come to her from an +adjoining room; an unknown Nevil, wearing a long <i>choga</i>; +his hair, damp from bathing, crisped into fugitive curls, +and in his eyes a gladness beyond speech. Then only had +there flashed upon her the full significance of yesterday's +doings, that had stripped her of all things familiar and set +her alone in an untried world with this deeply adored +stranger, lord of her life in very deed. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman had seen them into the train for Como, +promising on his return from London to be their first +visitor. But while he spoke, the inexorable engine drowned +his voice; her desperate clutch upon his hand relaxed, some +chord within her seemed to snap, and she lay back dazed, +tearless; the rattle and clank of machinery seeming to beat +upon her bared nerves. +</p> + +<p> +Six weeks she had lived without him; six weeks of +happiness unspeakable. Yet in one secret corner, the ache +remained. Even in memory she drew a veil over that +moment's anguish, softened though it was by the peculiar +tenderness that Nevil Sinclair had gotten from his mother. +She preferred to dwell on the journey up the Lake in the +pellucid end of a May evening that conjured the grey-green +water into gold. And oh! before starting—the sight +and smell of the white bullocks, in Como town! Dignity +and reserve alone had withheld her from open worship—there, +on the cobblestone of Italy, that knew nothing of +Shiva or his sacred bull. +</p> + +<p> +In early spring the winding reaches of Lake Como have +the grey-green tone of Italy—of olive and rock, stone +cottage and pebbled paths. Here, white incidents of +hotels or villas, there, black incidents of cypress, flashed like +exclamation marks on some jutting headland, or grouped +like sentinels about a shrine. But by now the grey was +jewelled everywhere with green, enamelled brightly and +delicately with every tint of every flower that blows. +Only the Northward view showed a gleam of the high Alps; +gods of the upper heaven untroubled by the season's ebb +and flow. +</p> + +<p> +At last, slipping round a fir-capped island, they had +sighted their villa, set upon the water's edge like a brooding +bird. And lo, at Tremezzo landing-stage, a slim white boat +awaiting them, its gay little flag aflutter at the stern. In +the deepening stillness, they had been rowed across to their +own private oasis, where nightingales were already at +even-song among the bushes, and fire-flies dipped and darted in +irregular flashes like stars gone mad. Without spoken word +Nevil had slipped a hand through his bride's arm, leading +her in and up to the room that would be his studio. He +had shut the door behind them. And they were alone. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as he turned, with that in his eyes that made her +heart stand still, it had come upon her afresh—the fear +and the ecstasy. In one appealing look she had besought +him to understand. And he had understood: most tenderly +and amazingly he had understood. For in the best men, +and in all true artists, there lurks some hidden touch of the +woman, some impress of the mother that bore them; and it +had needed just this touch in Lilamani's husband to ensure +that the ecstasy should outweigh the fear; nay, drive it out +for good. +</p> + +<p> +He had succeeded; and that so completely as to leave her +wondering, now, if she really had been afraid—ever. +As for the ecstasy, it stood revealed in her eyes as she +paused in the deft scraping of a carrot, arrested by the low, +clear whistling that came from behind the <i>phulkari</i> hanging +over his studio door. +</p> + +<p> +The key was turned in the lock—on her side; a daring +act of coercion achieved, with delicious tremors, after his +fourth incursion, just to see how things were going. It +was the only way to ensure his getting any dinner at all, +she had explained sweetly—from the other side. For the +<i>chef</i> had been given a holiday, leaving her, Lilamani, mistress +of the situation. It had been her chosen birthday treat; +and the simplicity of it smote her husband's heart. +</p> + +<p> +For two hours he had worked contentedly, on his side of +the barrier, at the new picture—"Dreaming": a bevy +of Eastern girls asleep, suggested by a descriptive passage +in the "Light of Asia." His month in Paris had justified to +the full Sir Lakshman's decree. Immersed in his natural +element, his talent had blossomed and expanded with a +readiness that surprised none more than himself, and +delighted none more than his girl-bride, self-dedicated +high-priestess of the sacred flame. +</p> + +<p> +In those first days of divine idleness, when they had lived +mainly in the little white boat, it had been decided that he +should make his name as a painter of Eastern subjects, +having become enamoured of half a hemisphere in the person +of one small woman. It was then that she had reillumined +for him the familiar "Light of Asia," and pleaded for a +painting of the great Prince's "pleasure-home," with its +walls of pearl-shell and lace-worked stone, through which +moonbeams filtered, making tender light and shade upon a +group of sleeping dancers, fairest and most favoured <i>houris</i> +of the royal household. +</p> + +<p> +She herself, in her loveliest <i>saris</i>, would be model for +all, if he could change the faces a little "from his own +imagining": and for him remained the joy of painting six +sleeping Lilamanis, each in some new pose of girlish grace +and beauty. Then, as the work progressed, she had written +to Sir Lakshman for a full and abridged translation of +the Ramayāna—Saga of princely heroism and wifely devotion, +that lies nearest to India's heart. The full translation, +sumptuously bound, had been her birthday gift: and +thence they would cull fresh subjects for his brush when he +had completed his dream of one fair woman multiplied by six. +</p> + +<p> +It was nearing completion now: and while he worked +lovingly at shadows of marble tracery and silver lamps that +swung like censers from the dim roof, she, on her side, +chopped vegetables, washed rice, and measured out spices +with the ardour of a devotee and the absorption of a +happy-hearted child at play. But she knew what that whistling +meant. He was tired of his "Dream." He wanted reality. +She wanted it too; yet she made no sign. +</p> + +<p> +Then the tune broke off short, and through the curtain +his voice came to her, appealing as a caress. +</p> + +<p> +"Little wife! I'm tired of seeing you asleep. Come out +of your shrine." +</p> + +<p> +"Wait only a small time—impatient one! Or curry +will spoil." +</p> + +<p> +"Hang curry! I want you." +</p> + +<p> +"Then no dinner. Only soup and cream pudding. +Think how squash!" +</p> + +<p> +"Cheese and pâté," said the curtain, clinching the +argument in a fashion beneath contempt. "Come along." +</p> + +<p> +She smiled enchantingly at the mixture she was tossing +in the pan and hurried on with her work. +</p> + +<p> +Silence for a half a minute: then the curtain spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +"I say, Lilamani. Giulietta's brought the tea. Your +cake, with coffee icing, and a box of fondants from Martino +with a thousand compliments. There now!" +</p> + +<p> +Supreme conviction in that last. He could see the +delicate disdain upon her face before speech confirmed it. +</p> + +<p> +"You think if I will not come—for you, I come for +cakes and fondants?" +</p> + +<p> +But her fingers were unfastening the brooch at her shoulder, +and the <i>sari</i> sacred to cooking was whisked off with +surprising alacrity. For answer he began crooning with +guileful intent her favourite song: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "'My heart, my heart is like a singing-bird,<br> + Whose nest is in a watered shoot;<br> + My heart, my heart is like an apple-tree<br> + Whose boughs are hung with thick-set fruit;<br> + My heart, my heart is like a rainbow shell<br> + That paddles on a halcyon sea.<br> + My heart, my heart is gladder than all these<br> + Because my Love, my Love has come to me——'<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Ah!—so you <i>have</i> come, after all!" +</p> + +<p> +The key had turned softly in the lock, and now she stood +before him: a slender, iridescent vision with lids dutifully +downcast, awaiting his pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +At the first he had been puzzled, then increasingly +charmed, this English husband, by the worshipful aloofness +with which the Hindu bride approaches her lord, at least +until the crown of motherhood is hers. To the Indian +husband this attitude is merely a part of the immemorial +nature of things: but for Nevil Sinclair, used to the casual +camaraderie of the West, there were moments when it went +to his head. He had to temper elation with the reminder +that it was instinctive, impersonal; homage to husbandhood +rather than to himself. But, enchanting though it +was, he would not always have it so. She must learn his +ways also. And she was learning—shyly, proudly; her +woman's adaptability quickened by the impulse of love. +For a heart-beat or two he watched her where she stood. +Then, smiling, he indicated the tea-table. +</p> + +<p> +"I angled well! You couldn't resist them—eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is as my lord pleases!" she answered demurely, +imps of laughter in her eyes; and he held out both hands. +</p> + +<p> +"A shame to insult her on her birthday! Come +then—English wife." +</p> + +<p> +It was their private password; and straightway she +obeyed its hidden command; laying light hands upon him +and lifting her face for his kiss. +</p> + +<p> +"The necklace of your arms," he whispered, caressing +their silken softness. "D'you know Martino said one day, +at the Cap, that when the <i>houri</i> made this necklace for me +I should be faithless to art; and I contradicted him flat. +Was I Truth-named, Jewel of Delight?" +</p> + +<p> +She nestled closer. +</p> + +<p> +"Even at the first you were so clever to know your +Lilamani. Now he must believe, when he sees, in one little +month—how beautiful picture——!" +</p> + +<p> +"To say nothing of the masterpieces we mean to paint +from your Ramayāna before the summer's out." +</p> + +<p> +That "we" sent a shiver of joy through her. It united +her, not only with his manhood, but with the art that was +his crown of manhood; the art dear to her, as to himself. +Had it not brought her this—her crown of womanhood? +</p> + +<p> +"About those other pictures, I have a new thought to +tell. It came in my mind—God-bestowed—when making +your curry——" +</p> + +<p> +"My curry! You inimitable high-priestess of a brick +oven! While you were chopping onions, I suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Just exactly by that time." She assumed an +adorable gravity. "It is bad to make joke of my sacred +service—worthless one! I shall not tell." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but you will." +</p> + +<p> +His lips brushed hers in a fugitive caress; and the +"God-bestowed" thought found utterance. She had seen, in +fancy, a group of pictures, each with Sita for central figure; +the whole, when complete, setting forth India's ideal of +womanhood in the ascent of that gracious spirit from steep +to steep of renunciation, unsullied, unafraid, even until the +end. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani's whole face glowed as she warmed to her subject. +</p> + +<p> +"Sita, when begging of Rāma to share banishment," she +went on eagerly. "Sita, alone in forest hut when that +Terrible is approaching in guise of Brahman. Sita coming +out from fire of ordeal, in great God's arms. Think how +splendid!" +</p> + +<p> +"Jove, yes—<i>if</i> it's possible." His ardour caught fire +from hers. "Arrogant high-flying, of course. But we'll +lay the scheme before Martino to-morrow and see what he +thinks. You shall give us an outline idea of the story and +the special scenes you want." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Only ... Sita is like patron saint to me; like +a piece of my own heart. And how difficult! When all is +so big——" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a bit of it. You'll manage beautifully. Think it +all out when you get back to your sacred curry! And you +would be my Sita? Is that it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I would—oh, I would—in all things. If there +came a need." She brooded on the thought with gravely +luminous eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"But, Lilamani, suppose I paint you, yourself, how about +letting all the world see? Wouldn't you hate that?" +</p> + +<p> +Her scarlet flush gave answer, and she hid her eyes a +moment; then looking up again, spoke bravely. "Not—if +I shall be Sita. Think how small thing for honour of +your name, comparing with ordeal of fire." +</p> + +<p> +"And you wouldn't stick at that either," he said, "if +such barbarism still existed." +</p> + +<p> +"No," she answered simply. "I am <i>Suttee</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani—what d'you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"Only—in old days, when <i>Suttee</i> was not outside law, +girl-brides would fear sometimes were they strong enough, +were they worthy? Then they would make test; holding +smallest finger in fire till flesh burnt from bone; or stirring +with bare hand rice when boiling. And I—I have done—that +last; though never I told to anyone—till now." +</p> + +<p> +"You? My little one!" In a passion of protection he +held her close. +</p> + +<p> +"Such a small thing!" she murmured, not ill-pleased at +his concern. "But now—I am glad; and perhaps a little +more worthy for being Sita in your so beautiful pictures, +that I long to see." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Our</i> pictures," he corrected her in a sudden humility. +"It's you that are the true artist, Lilamani—the inspired +brain. Without you I should never have painted a thing +worth looking at. But with you there's no limit to the +insolence of my aspiration—." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0202"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER II +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "My heart in me was held at restless rest,<br> + Presageful of some prize beyond its quest,<br> + Prophetic still with promise, fain to find the best."<br> + —SWINBOURNE.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Martino's approval of the <i>houri</i> and something +more dated from his first sight of Nevil's sketch. +Constrained by that something, he had wrought, in the +sea-piece that was his wedding-gift, a symbolic portrayal of his +own soul, untamed and untameable as the waters that +cover the earth. All wind-driven wave and cloud it was; +save for one down-sweeping sword of radiance that +struck a path of gold through the turmoil: the whole +smitten into life by the illusion of light and movement that +was fast gaining him recognition as one of the master-painters +of his time. This much, at least, of himself should +be hers: the quintessence of his nature purged from the +dross. For outside his art, and his touch of heroic +fortitude, Martino's code of morals did not bear critical +inspection. +</p> + +<p> +It was Sinclair's mention of her "soul-pictures" that +had inspired his attempt at symbolical portraiture, in the +hope that she might see and understand. She had seen and +understood. On the day of its bestowal he had watched +discovery creep into her eyes; had heard from her lips +the tribute he coveted: "But, Signor Martino, it is +you—yourself!" +</p> + +<p> +"For which reason, Signorina—it is yours," he had +answered with his awkward little bow of gallantry. And to-day, +as he sipped his <i>chocolat</i> in Broome's familiar study, he +felt a thrill of pleasure in seeing "himself" hung in the +right light, at the right angle; the only picture added, by +Nevil, to the chosen few that adorned Broome's grey-green +walls. +</p> + +<p> +The French windows were flung wide; and the two +men sat just within them. Out on the balcony, in full +sunshine, gleamed the silver tea-tray, and beside it, on her +lacquer stool, sat the <i>houri</i>; Signorina no longer, but bride +of another; shyly conscious of her new dignity, shyly aloof, +for all her flutter of pleasure at sight of one who recalled +Antibes. +</p> + +<p> +Lovelier and more desirable than ever she seemed to +Martino, in her subdued glow of happiness and health +renewed; the olive and rose-madder tints of her skin set +off by a <i>sari</i>, delicately pink as the lining of a shell; its +narrow border of almond-buds, breaking at each corner +into a full-blown spray. Whatever pangs of envy may have +pricked the man, the artist, at least, could find pure pleasure +in watching her, while Sinclair unfolded her God-bestowed +conviction that, between them, they could achieve a set +of paintings from the great Hindu Epic, choosing scenes +that should not involve an overcrowded canvas, or technical +knowledge of detail, hard to acquire out of India. +</p> + +<p> +"It's flagrantly ambitious, I admit," Nevil concluded, +lighting a cigarette and holding his vesta to Martino's +cigar. "But Sir Lakshman is a keen student of ancient +literature; and—she is astonishingly well up in it all. She +tells me he has a remarkable collection of old books, native +pictures, and curios; and thinks he would gladly send out +for some of them to act as "stage properties" and give me +a better grasp of the subject. What d'you think, Martino +<i>mio</i>? Is it a credible venture? Or has too much +good-fortune turned my head?" +</p> + +<p> +Martino considered the question a moment, his ragged +moustache thrust out. +</p> + +<p> +"Difficult to answer," he said at last. "It is I who am +lost, confounded, by your so rapid advance. Your new +picture!—how remarkable! ... All in one month. After +that, it is not for Martino to say possible or impossible. In +Paris you shall have worked like anything else than the +Sinclair known to me these three years." +</p> + +<p> +"Jove, I did! But then, I had a very special +inducement—waiting for me at Antibes." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil's eyes dwelt an instant on his wife's half-averted +face; and Martino coughed till the tears came. +</p> + +<p> +"That one can understand," he muttered gruffly. "But +you painted no picture there—was it?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. Only studies and sketches—scores of them. But +without Leseppes I'd have been nowhere. He called himself +my godfather. Even let his own work slide a bit on +my account." +</p> + +<p> +Martino nodded. "H'm. That is Leseppes—when the +finger touches his heart. Which is not too often, I can tell +you, Sinclair. It is—how you call?—feather in your cap. +He knew it would be worth. And he knew right. One can +trace Jacques Leseppes in that." He jerked his cigar +towards the dreamers. "But I—Martino—knew it first. +That is my <i>panache</i>. The surprise to me is how you were +content, those many years, to play fool with a gift so +precious——" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear fellow, I wasn't content. That was the deuce +of it all. Often and often I felt the ache and stirring of a +power, that seemed as if it must work itself out—somehow, +some day. But in between times conviction went to pieces; +and I cursed myself for an imaginative, conceited +fool——" +</p> + +<p> +"Surest proof you could not be!" Martino broke in with +a short laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"Horribly disconcerting all the same. Without proof +of unusual talent I could hardly ask my father to spend +money on a gift he didn't believe in. So there I was! A +failure in my father's eyes. Worse than that in my own. +Only when I got into touch with you and your kind, I used +to feel like a man who has a treasure locked up in a secret +room of which he has lost the key——" +</p> + +<p> +"And, by God, you have got it now, <i>amico mio</i>! Not +often is it that an artist shall have the unique good fortune +to find himself—in his wife." +</p> + +<p> +He jerked out the last with an effort; and the half-averted +face was turned gently away. It was the custom of +her new world, this open fashion of speech: but not soon +would her sensitiveness become inured to personal allusions +impermissible among Hindus of good breeding. +</p> + +<p> +Her husband, keenly alive to the significance of that +slight movement, answered, without direct mention of her: +"I'm quite as much confounded as you are, Martino <i>mio</i>; +and perhaps a little intoxicated with the wine of the gods, +or I could hardly take this new notion seriously. But +I do. Honestly, I do——" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Sapristi</i>! That picture gives you right. And to take +seriously, is to achieve. Will you or ... the Signora tell +me more of this Epic, Saga—what you call it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I want my wife to give you an outline of the +story. Will you—Lilamani?" +</p> + +<p> +She turned, aflush to the temples; her ringed hands +moving nervously in her lap. +</p> + +<p> +"If Signor Martino is wishing—I will try. But—it is +so great and beautiful; and my telling so clumsy. I am not +clever to such things." +</p> + +<p> +"Your telling's good enough for us. Eh, Martino?" +Nevil said, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +The small man nodded vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +"No fear for Martino to be critical, Signora," he said +with unusual gentleness. "Outside of form and colour +there lives no great knowledge in my black bullet head. +Tell me, please, this Epic of your country. History, is it? +Or legend?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hard to say how much from each," she answered, +clasping her hands to steady herself. "It is mixture of all +things; war and philosophy and family love. But almost +for us it is religion. Because Rāma, prince and hero, was +incarnation of Vishnu, called Preserver, second great god of +Hindu Trinity; and this poem tells of his many adventures +in ancient forest of Dandak. There he was living fourteen +years in banishment, because of long-ago promise made by +that old king, his father, to second queen, who was favourite, +and was wishing to see her own son in Rāma's place. +</p> + +<p> +"Then, because royal word cannot be broken, Rāma +must fulfil that promise; even if father, mother, and all the +peoples break their hearts for losing such a Prince. In +rough guise of pilgrim he chose to go; leaving all possessions, +even Sita, beautiful and beloved wife. She must stay +safely with his mother because forest life was too much +rough and dangerous for high-bred woman. But now there +came difficulty——" +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani paused and drew in a low soft breath. The +sacredness of Sita, of all communion between wife and +husband, made the telling of so impassioned a love-story more +difficult than she had foreseen. Nevil, divining her thought, +frowned imperatively at Martino, checking comment on his +lips. +</p> + +<p> +And she, leaning forward, chin cradled in one hand, +found courage to speak on; her eyes intent upon a fairy +fleet of clouds, her voice hushed to a musical monotone, as +if thinking aloud. +</p> + +<p> +"Sita, dutiful beyond all women, refused in this one +matter to obey her lord, caring nothing for danger or rough +life if only she may behold his face. Rāma, too much +anxious, would not hear such thing. Only at last, by saying +she will take poison, even fainting with grief, she won +consent. Lakshman, own brother to Rāma, said he will go +also; and they three, in coats of bark, went forth to their +strange adventures. There might come one picture. +Another might come, months after, when Sita was sitting +alone in forest hut, built by Lakshman, while Rāma has +gone in search of wonderful deer, seen by her, and greatly +wished. But this deer was only form taken by a Wicked +One to draw Rāma far from his beloved. Because of his +strength, no evil giants of that wood were able to conquer +him; and they were desiring vengeance, because he spurned +offered love of hideous giantess, sister of Ravān, that +ogre-king of Ceylon. By his devising was such cruel trick played +on Rāma, all-conquering one; only to be caught by deceit +because his spirit was too clear for such muddy thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +"So he was leaving his Queen in care of Lakshman, and +following that deer. But at first prick of arrow, the +Wicked One cried out, in voice of Rāma: 'Ah Sita, ah +Lakshmana—help! help!' This they heard with fearful +hearts; and Sita was insisting that Lakshman shall leave +charge of her and follow that call. But even for her command, +he would not disobey Rāma and desert his Queen; till +Sita became angry, saying she must believe he wishes that +brother's death, so he may marry with herself. Heart-broken +from such suspicion, Lakshman must go. +</p> + +<p> +"Then while Sita was sitting alone, beautiful as full +moon, in robes of amber silk, with lotus-wreath upon her +hair, came That Terrible, stealthily up from river, in guise +of Brahman. First he was begging food, as holy man, that +none may refuse. Then, throwing off disguise, he was +speaking shameful things to that most loyal wife. In scornful +anger she spurned him, as her lord had spurned his sister. +More than this, weak woman could not do. So That +Terrible—catching her by waist and by hair—carried her off +in his flying car, over tree-tops to Lanka, now called Ceylon. +Only one great vulture, friend to Rāma, saw them go +and made battle with Ravān. But no use. He fell, with +many wounds and arrows, killed almost to death——" +</p> + +<p> +Another pause. Half-unconsciously Lilamani was identifying +Sita with herself, Rāma with her lord; and now it +was as if the actual sword of division pierced her heart. +</p> + +<p> +"See a fresh picture—sorrowful beyond telling," she +murmured, the thrill of oncoming tragedy in her voice. +"Sita, broken of heart and hope—true wife still, pure as +snow newly fallen—grieving alone in that garden of +Ravān, where all was beautiful, except only the she-fiends—with +head of wild beast and bodies of women—who must +guard her and torment her with insult and cruelty; because +not all flatterings or gifts or threatenings could make her +disloyal by even look or word. Only one thing kept That +Terrible from taking her in his palace by force. He feared +she was daughter of high gods who could punish him for +that sacrilege. Therefore he tried every way for winning +her consent. But no use. So he grew angry, and gave her +in charge of she-fiends that she might not escape. +</p> + +<p> +"But on this day, unknown to her, there sat one among +the branches with message from her lord: Hanuman, general +of the monkey-peoples, by which is meant wild forest +tribes. Lightly leaping down, he knelt before that sorrowful +lady, telling her how one great prince Rāma had been +searching many months all over Southern India for stolen +wife dearly-loved; how he, general of monkey-peoples, had +leapt across the sea to make search in country of Ravān. +Hearing of beautiful prisoner in Asoka garden, he came, +by his littleness and cunning, through the tree-tops to see. +And now, if she is that lost Queen, he is begging token for +her husband that she is still alive and true wife. Then he +will bring great army and win her back. By this news, joy +came once more to Sita's heart; and most precious jewel, gift +of her father, she sent for greeting and proof of faithful +love. +</p> + +<p> +"Then, through many months the story is filled with +noise of battle and chariot-wheels, and death and victory. +No pictures here. Till, at last, came day of meeting +between Sita and her lord. By his orders she was carried in +litter to greet him on field of victory. And he, not +approaching, called her to come forth, with face uncovered, +before those many folk. From this so strange command she +had fear of trouble; yet, shrinking greatly, she came forth. +With eyes veiled, though face must be seen, she went +proudly to her lord; heart and thought unstained as when +her father made the gift. +</p> + +<p> +"Then fell that unspeakable thing. There, in cruel +speech, that all his army shall hear, he told her not for +great love had he fought and conquered, but only to avenge +insult and theft. There, before all, he named her faithless +wife, Queen of Ravān, that could never any more be Queen +for him. Oh, cruel! <i>Too cruel</i>——!" +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani's voice vibrated with pain and scorn. The +hand that lay on her lap clenched itself in passionate +protest. Martino, pictures, Nevil himself forgotten, she was +seeing all, hearing all; translated in spirit back to the +morning of the world. +</p> + +<p> +"Surely Rāma, true husband, must be lost in Rāma, +proud Prince, to speak so. And Sita was answering, in +such noble meekness, that he may doubt others, if he will; +but not that truth which all her life has shown. 'Why,' +she was asking, 'had he not sent such word through Hanuman, +that she might die and be spared from deepest insult +and shame?' Then she was pleading remembrance for early +days of happiness and love: 'O King, is all forgotten—all?' +</p> + +<p> +"From Rāma no word; and she, peerless one, turned to +Lakshman, begging him, in broken voice, make ready +funeral pyre. For loving woman, hurt beyond healing, what +else was left? +</p> + +<p> +"So there, before all, it was made ready, none daring to +disobey: and Sita, not shrinking now, drew near those leaping +flames, praying with uplifted hands to the God within. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Universal witness, Fire,<br> + Protect my body on the pyre!<br> + As Raghu's son has lightly laid<br> + This charge on Sita—hear, and aid!"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"When these cruel flames closed upon her loveliness, +most piercing cry went up from all; and tears came in +Rāma's eyes. Then down from heaven came the great +Gods, in cars golden like sunbeams, revealing to Rāma he +is no mortal man—but Vishnu himself in human shape; +reproaching him for such treatment of his Queen, like man of +common clay. +</p> + +<p> +"But see—see! Those flames are rolling backward, and +out of their burning heart came the Lord of Fire himself, +carrying that stainless one, no fire could harm. Fresh, like +she came from the litter; not one flower of wreath scorched +nor hair of eyelash singed, that Universal Witness gave her +again to her lord of life. Then Rāma was proclaiming, +before those many peoples, that never had he been doubting +her word and her love; only for princely honour there was +need that searching fire should give proof to all. Now he +will cleave to her as hero cleaves to glory; and never leave +her again. Oh, if he kept that word ... if he kept +it——!" +</p> + +<p> +The low cry ended in a broken sound; and Lilamani sat +motionless, her face hidden. +</p> + +<p> +Martino glanced at Sinclair. His cigarette had gone out. +He leaned back in his chair lost to everything but this fresh +revealing of his girl-wife; and the Italian, more poignantly +moved by her distress than by Sita's sufferings, leaned +impulsively towards her. +</p> + +<p> +"It was not kept? That demi-god, was he so despicable? +Tell me, Signora—is that the end?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil frowned sharply. Lilamani started and looked up. +Tears hung on her lashes. +</p> + +<p> +"That is the ending—for my pictures," she said quietly. +"True ending of story also, in my belief. But in such +far-away times, who can tell? Long after death of that great +poet was added <i>Uttra Kanda</i>, after-part, telling of triumphal +return to their own kingdom, where they two lived in happiness, +too perfect, one year only. Then came to Rāma's ears +that people were murmuring doubts of his Queen in spite +of all. Not one doubt had Rāma. But for honour of his +kinghood, he was believing Sita must go. So he sent her, +even before birth of his child, to that far hermitage; and +she, in great grief of her heart, said only: 'Husband is God +of the wife; what seems right to him she must do even at +cost of life.' +</p> + +<p> +"So for twenty long years she was living, without anger +or complaint, in that hermitage of early days; till twin +sons of Rāma had become men. Then they, without +knowing, went to sing glorious deeds of their father at his Court. +There came recognition: and Rāma was crying out that he +will bear separation no longer; that Sita must come back to +grant forgiveness, and once more reign as his Queen. +</p> + +<p> +"She came; proud, but sad from too much pain and +waiting. There, before chiefs and kings and all subjects, +she stood in crimson robe, still beautiful as dawn. But—oh +terrible!—even while Rāma was greeting her, came the +people's murmur: 'Let her be tried by fire.' Even for such +a great heart that was too much. Like one pierced with a +sword, she covered her face, crying in broken voice: 'If +unstained in thought and action—Mother Earth, receive thy +child!' +</p> + +<p> +"Then that great Earth-Mother, quick to answer, cleft +the ground and came up, there, at her daughter's feet. +Beautiful beyond telling her throne: wide her arms of welcome. +Vain, all vain, outcry of Rāma and his people. The +earth was closing on mother and child. She is gone +... that stainless one——!" +</p> + +<p> +With a shuddering sob Lilamani sprang to her feet, flung +both arms heavenward in a gesture half triumph, half despair: +then, stabbed awake by sudden acute self-consciousness, +turned and fled. +</p> + +<p> +In the silence she left behind her, the hush of sun-sinking +seemed still to palpitate with ghosts of dead emotions +interwoven with live ones. The breathing of both men sounded +curiously distinct. Nevil lit a fresh cigarette, mechanically, +as if his mind were elsewhere. Martino sat gazing at the +empty chair; then, with awkward haste, brushed a hand +across his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +It was Nevil who stepped first out of the cloud. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Martino—it's a big thing, isn't it? What do +you think?" +</p> + +<p> +Martino grunted. Then he coughed. +</p> + +<p> +"My friend, at this moment, I <i>think</i> not at all. But this +I know. Through her clearness of vision you shall paint +those pictures in such a fashion that they shall make your +name. I, Martino, have said. Let your strong imagining +take colour from her. She is like flame to your mind—to +your life. No?" +</p> + +<p> +"She is." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bene</i>. That I thought. Of lesser matters we shall +speak another time." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0203"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER III +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Oh laisse frapper à la porte<br> + La main, qui frappe avec ses doigts futiles.<br> + Notre heure est si unique; et le reste, qu'importe<br> + Le reste, avec ses doigts futiles.<br> + * * * * * * *<br> + L'instant est si rare, de lumière première,<br> + Dans notre cœur, au fond de nous."<br> + EMILE VERHAEREN.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was after sunset when the little white boat "Marietta" +slipped out of the rocky cove, as it had done almost +every evening for the past six weeks. Nevil rowed. +Martino sat beside his <i>houri</i> in the stern; since rowing was +apt to catch his breath and make him cough. +</p> + +<p> +The hush and glow of early evening, in sky and lake, cast +its spell upon all three. The Western hills wore a halo of +light, shell-pink melting to amethyst. In the east an +orange-golden moon hung poised above the rugged heights as if +loath to lose touch with earth. The watchword of the +evening was Peace. +</p> + +<p> +The three in the boat talked fitfully of passing things. +But of the great scheme no one spoke, till the keel grated +on the pebbles. Then said Martino abruptly, gripping his +friend's hand: +</p> + +<p> +"When my spirit shall have digested that wonderful recital, +I shall better be able to speak of details—possibilities. +You understand?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very much so. You've only to send word across when +the process is complete!" +</p> + +<p> +"That will be soon, I hope," softly, from Lilamani. +</p> + +<p> +"The sooner the better for me, Signora. <i>Buon riposo</i>." From +the top of the stone steps he watched their departing +boat cleave the shining, sensitive silver below, while the +black worm of envy gnawed at his heart. Fame, recognition—the +one great good he had wrestled from life in defiance of +his "lost lung,"—seemed of a sudden chilly, unsatisfying, +like a glass of water on a cold day. <i>Santa Maria</i>! To be +young and strong, with such a wife to feed the sacred flame! +As if in jeering comment a violent fit of coughing shook +him, as a dog shakes a rat. Then, with a curse, he turned +homeward to supper and probable recriminations from a +devoted if sharp-tongued sister: sole genie of his lamp. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Out on the lake, in the vanishing boat, silence had fallen +again. But at the heart of it was understanding. To stir a +man's imagination, is to seal his lips: and to-day Nevil +Sinclair's imagination had been profoundly stirred. The +rapture of the artist was his; his vision of things, beautiful +beyond expression, entreating to be expressed; of things +vital clamouring to be born. +</p> + +<p> +And it was her doing—hers. He worshipped her with +his eyes, while she lay back against her cushion, watching +the birth of star upon quivering star. +</p> + +<p> +Who that saw her, without prejudice, could doubt that +his unique experiment seemed like to prove a unique success? +Martino did not doubt. But Martino was of the elect. +It was thought of the Philistines that chilled him; one +Philistine in particular, brimful of prejudice. He thrust her +impatiently aside. His decision for art had made him +permanently a black sheep in her eyes. What matter one +smudge the more? And his father? A twinge of pain +here, tempered with annoyance. Why in the name of common +sense couldn't folk who swore by it let a man be happy +in his own way? He was, and would be, none the less. +Nay more, he would make the name of Sinclair famous. +Perhaps they would be satisfied then. For himself the +glowing golden present was satisfaction enough. It is at once +the strength and weakness of the artist nature, this full +surrender to the spell of the moment. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond this enchanted summer he refused to look definitely. +Vague visions of a winter in Rome, or Egypt, +sufficed. What matter where? The secret charm lay in +seeing the whole world afresh, through her eyes; in +realizing, through her, as never yet, the sanctity and sanity of +the common, primal bond between man and woman that is +at once keystone and pinnacle of the house of life. +</p> + +<p> +Mighty opposites were they—irreconcilables? By no +means. Six weeks of closest intimacy, of spelling out letter +by letter the unknown quantity he had taken to wife, +inclined him to believe rather that East and West are not +antagonistic, but complementary: heart and head, thought +and action, woman and man. Between all these "pairs of +opposites" fusion is rare, difficult, yet eminently possible. +Why not, then, between East and West? +</p> + +<p> +In the strength of that analogy he could go forward, +unafraid; still more so because the poetic temperament +common to both implied a certain imaginative insight and +flexibility, favourable to the bridging of gulfs; and the +fact that, in Broome's phrase, he had "too little of the +average Englishman under his Park Lane surface," was no +longer a stone of stumbling, but his most valuable asset. In +less than six months of marriage with the average Briton—say +his own brother George—Lilamani's fairy boat of +happiness would almost certainly have run aground upon +the rocks. Even with himself, to whom a great love had +given understanding, its fragility was a thing to tremble at; +and he dreaded the risk of impact with sharp-cornered +headlands that loomed vaguely through the golden mist. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, for all his understanding, he did not dream that +already two intrusive actualities threatened the fragile +thing; did not dream of her troubled wonder in divining +that the vital, motive power of her own life seemed to count +for little in his. +</p> + +<p> +Six weeks; and, to her knowledge, no form of devotion or +prayer. A Bible lived among his books; an old Bible, +solidly bound and clasped, with Christina Nevil writ in +faded ink on the fly-leaf. But though Lilamani had read +it—with an awed thrill in touching a book handled by his +mother in her girlhood—she had only seen Nevil open it +once. It was strange. Were all Englishmen thus? Or +was it a part of his tender consideration for her that had +been the crowning revelation of their union? Shyness and +innate shrinking from the least hint of criticism made her +fear to ask him—yet. +</p> + +<p> +The second intrusive reality was more personal, more +poignantly disturbing; one that might compel her to speak. +</p> + +<p> +Six weeks; and no word of recognition from that father +and sister, henceforth to be dear as her own; dearer, if +that were possible. For in theory, if not always in fact, her +husband's people become paramount to the Hindu wife; +only a degree less honoured, less sacred than her lord himself. +But then ... the home-coming of an Indian bride sets +her in the heart of his family: an additional daughter, +modestly self-suppressed; handmaiden in chief to the +Queen-mother of that human hive. And Lilamani Sinclair—child +of transition—found herself, instead, alone with this +one man upon an unknown road, with never a signpost for +guidance, and never a word from that England to which +she must now belong. +</p> + +<p> +For the first three weeks, secure in her certainty, she had +not given the matter a thought. Then she had begun to +watch her husband a little fearfully, whenever a post came +in. Days passed. Eagerness faded into a wistful anxiety. +Surely, even in England, some form of greeting, of "friendly +wishings," was due to bride of eldest son? Could it be that +he had never written of his marriage? And if not, why—why? +</p> + +<p> +Day after day that question had tormented her waking, +and bred grotesque nightmares when she slept. More than +once it had been upon her lips. But her own conviction +that he ought to have written made her dread his answer. +Better they should be in the wrong than he. Yet—she +must know; she must! And to-night, while she sat silent +in the dusk, watching the birth of the stars, she was +wondering, wondering—dared she ask him now? +</p> + +<p> +The moment seemed propitious for touching upon intimate +things. Courage waxed, as the glow of evening waned, +and earth-stars came out along the water's edge. She +stirred softly, and sat upright, clasping her hands; a trick +she had when nervous. But it was Nevil who spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Such a silent little wife! Dreaming? Thinking of Sita?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. Of Lilamani." +</p> + +<p> +"So was I! Anything wrong with Lilamani? Isn't she +quite happy?" +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes dwelt a moment on his moon-lit face. Her own +was half in shadow. +</p> + +<p> +"Dearest," she said softly, "why ask so strange thing?" +</p> + +<p> +"Only because I wish it so tremendously; and because—well, +when a man stands at the summit of desire he's +always half afraid of the next turning. You understand +that—don't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, too much. But ... we have ... not to be +afraid." She drew a deep breath. "Nevil ... King of +me ... have I leave to say all that is in my heart?" +</p> + +<p> +"Beloved, why not? What is it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Something I must ask. Only—if it vex you——" +</p> + +<p> +"Ask any mortal thing you please." +</p> + +<p> +A pause. Nevil, intent upon her shadowed face, let the +boat drift at will. +</p> + +<p> +"It is only—these many days I have been waiting, +hoping ... some small word of greeting for new wife +... from England——" +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani! Forgive me——!" +</p> + +<p> +The pain and self-reproach in his cry told her all. She +leaned forward, steadying her breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Nevil! Is it——? You have not written?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. I have not written." +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" +</p> + +<p> +He merely saw the word; and his free hand covered both hers. +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, how <i>shall</i> I make you understand? With you, +in India, it is so different. You see, my decision about the +painting upset them a good deal at home. I was honestly +sorry. But it had to be. Then came my marriage, which +I knew they would not see—quite as I see it; and I wanted +no outside worries disturbing our first spell of happiness. +But it was wrong of me to forget how my not writing might +affect you. I fancied you would be too happy in these +honeymoon weeks to bother your head about strangers you had +never seen." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I am happy, beyond all dreaming. But Nevil——. +Father of you, sister of you—my own being like lost—how +could I not wish——?" +</p> + +<p> +His grasp on her hands tightened. "I never thought of +that, selfish duffer that I am. But truly, if they'd been a +different sort I would have written sooner." +</p> + +<p> +"Different sort? What is that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nowadays English, little wife!" He smiled, longing +to win her from her anxious mood. "My meaning is that +I'm a kind of freak in my family. They're not much like +me, any of 'em, except my youngest sister, Christina, who +might come out to us later on. She has more of my mother +in her than the rest." +</p> + +<p> +"How many—the rest?" +</p> + +<p> +"Two brothers; a sailor and a soldier, besides Jane." +</p> + +<p> +"And you also—very like your mother?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very like. And proud of it. But I've always been out +of gear with my father and Jane. They worship a godling +called the Right Thing, whose first commandment is 'Thou +shalt respect the whole beaten track, and nothing but the +beaten track.' And we're not exactly respecting it—are +we, Jewel of Delight?" +</p> + +<p> +"No—I am afraid. But ... you were meaning to +write ... sometime?" +</p> + +<p> +"Naturally. I've been wondering this last week how +much longer I would be justified in keeping our sanctuary +sacred from the touch of outside things. That's how I +look at it. Life is none too prodigal of happiness like ours. +Are you in such a mortal hurry to admit the world, the +flesh, and the devil?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no—no!" she cried out with sudden passion. "It +was because I thought ... it must be right, and——" +</p> + +<p> +The small even teeth closed on her lower lip. +</p> + +<p> +"And what?" he asked almost sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"Not anything more." +</p> + +<p> +"There was something. I heard it in your voice. You +asked leave to speak out all your thought. As you love me, +Lilamani, keep nothing back." +</p> + +<p> +"But it is such a small thing; a little private ache, +because I had feared, through your not writing, you began to +be ... ashamed——" +</p> + +<p> +The hands he held were crushed against his lips. "I'll +write to-morrow," was all he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then, releasing her, he gripped his sculls and the boat +sped forward, away from the thickly-clustered constellations +of Cadenabbia and Tremezzo, toward the lone twin lights +that beckoned to them from the farther shore, as yet +untouched by the moon. +</p> + +<p> +After a short silence Lilamani spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"You did not sing to-night. Will you—now?" +</p> + +<p> +He balanced the sculls at her bidding; lifted his head +and sang softly, with tender inflections, the old Scots' +ballad, so simple in phrasing, so extravagant in protest: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "My love is like a red rose that's newly sprung in June.<br> + My love is like a melody that's sweetly played in tune——"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +So singing and so floating, star-encompassed above and +below, the watchword of the evening descended again upon +them like a beatitude. The voices of the outer world +seemed far away and unreal: themselves, and this their +transient Eden, the sole realities. +</p> + +<p> +The song ceased, and Nevil's oars plashed again, scattering +stars. A few swift strokes carried them out of the +moonlight into the shadow of their hill. Both were imaginative; +both susceptible to the mood of the hour; and, in that +moment of passing, a little breeze of dread blew chill upon +their hearts. +</p> + +<p> +As the keel grounded, Lilamani leaned forward, putting +out a hand. "Nevil," she began, then checked herself. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" he asked, his ear quick to catch the +trouble in her tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Not anything," she answered as before. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani, is that true?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nearly true. Only some woman's foolishness, of +... perhaps... Pity to break so heavenly evening with +'perhaps'——" +</p> + +<p> +"Wise one!" he commended, turning to moor the boat. +Sincerely he hoped that her trouble was no more than +"woman's foolishness." But, being man, he was grateful +for the reserve or consideration that had checked her +impulse of speech. +</p> + +<p> +Springing out, he drew the boat well in-shore; secured +it; and returning, leaned to her again. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it still there—the foolishness?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you drive it away?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Like it deserved." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't let it come back. This is our perfect hour. +Let us keep it so." +</p> + +<p> +Above them, from massed bushes of rhododendron and +azalea, the love-music of nightingales echoed his plea; and +she sighed. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. That I am feeling too. Almost it is like +enchantment. One little touch might break——" +</p> + +<p> +"That's why I put off writing. Must I now?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is not for wife to command her lord," she breathed. +"But think only ... dearest, your father——" +</p> + +<p> +Without a word he lifted her in his arms and carried her +up through the fragrant dark, jewelled with aerial gold of +fire-flies. +</p> + +<p> +To both came the thought of that first time he had carried +her thus, in the rush and swirl of the storm, that had led +them into this deep heart of peace: and Lilamani, remembering +all that his arms had told her then, found to-night, +in their enfolding pressure, an answer to the question she +could not bring herself to ask. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0204"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IV +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Oh, I would be to thee<br> + As gentle as the grass above the dead,<br> + And have I been but darkness and a sword?"<br> + STEPHEN PHILLIPS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was the last of June; the last lingering hour of a +radiant evening. Not often does the queen of months +fulfil herself so royally as she had done for these two, with +whom the very gods seemed to have fallen in love. In the +heavens a lazy light-filled cloud or two, by way of reminder +that tears must fall again some day. On earth increasing +fervour of heat and fragrance of a million roses. And over +all brooded that spirit of peace, of a sanctuary enclosed, +peculiar to hill-girt lakes in the zenith of summer. +</p> + +<p> +Even the passing flutter of holiday life on steamers and +on hotel terraces had ceased—for a time. Lilamani basked +and blossomed in the heat like some exotic plant of her own +land. Nevil, less inured, had suggested a move up to the +Dolomites. But she clung to her nest, fearing to "break +the enchantment" and waken the forgetful Gods. They +were growing a little superstitious about "the enchantment"; +so pathetically certain is human nature that the perfect +moment is of all things most fragile, most impossible +to regain when lost. +</p> + +<p> +In high hope, tempered with awe at their own daring, the +Ramayāna pictures had been begun. Nevil had chosen for +his first venture, Sita in the forest hut; the scene being one +of the simplest, yet imbued with the thrill of approaching +drama. By now the groundwork had been roughly blocked +in; the forest hut, with massed trees darkly looming; their +black trunks and branches barring the red glow of sunset +fire. Sita, in amber draperies and lotus-crown, was as yet +merely indicated; as also was the stealthily nearing form +of That Terrible, with staff and begging-bowl and matted +locks. Rapello, Broome's stalwart young boatman, pressed +into service as model, had accepted with alacrity and repented +at leisure; consoling himself, for hours snatched from +a promising courtship of Giulietta, with reflections on the +<i>Inglese's</i> proverbial liberality, and the honour of having his +portrait painted by a genuine artist. At moments when he +looked particularly handsome and complacent, Nevil had +been tempted to let him see his "portrait"; and only the +risk of losing a good model had held the impulse in check. +</p> + +<p> +Colour-books on India had been sent for, and Sir Lakshman, +greatly interested, had promised to do his share. He +was back in Paris now, appreciably nearer. Yet another +week and he would be with them. Father and husband +under one roof! Lilamani hugged the blessed thought. +Could the most exigeant bride ask for more? +</p> + +<p> +And while the last evening of June burned its heart out, +the most exigeant bride was curled up in Broome's big +chair frowning at a slip of paper, and chewing the point of +her pencil in quest of inspiration. She was alone in the +little chalet for the first time in her brief married life. +Two hours ago an urgent message had come from Cadenabbia. +Martino, prostrated by one of his worst attacks, +had begged his sister to send for Nevil Sinclair; and Sinclair +had gone, promising to return as soon as might be to the +lone bird in her nest. +</p> + +<p> +The first hour she had spent in her shrine, praying +Vishnu the Preserver to save Martino's life. Then for a +space she had worshipped the image of the Baby-God +Krishna, that lived in her sandalwood casket; dreaming +shyly, yet with passionate hope, of the day when the Shining +Ones should vouchsafe her a Baby-God of flesh and blood, +to worship in its stead. Then, because time lagged sadly +without her Light of Life, she had gone back into the studio, +where all things spoke feelingly of him: picture and easel; +brushes and palette, flung hastily aside; slippers and the +holland coat in which he worked. +</p> + +<p> +Here the happy idea had come to her of completing a +June love-song, written in secret. Then, if Signor Martino +lived, she would surprise Nevil with it on his return. +Grateful for the distraction, she settled to her task in the +hope of charming away a little restless ache that tugged at +the back of her mind like a spoilt child at its mother's +skirts. +</p> + +<p> +Ten days since Nevil had written to Jane; leaving her +to judge whether Sir George's state of health made it +advisable to tell him—yet. Ten days; and no answer, to +Lilamani's knowledge. But, yesterday, she had seen a +shadow in her lord's eyes, not there before; and had longed +to ask—yet dared not. Now, in her hour of loneliness, +they tugged at her afresh—the longing and the fear. +With the delicate passion of her own love-music she strove +to banish them; reading her small achievement through for +the twentieth time, in hopes of capturing two spontaneous +last lines: +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + SONG: IN LOVE-TIME<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "As the new-blown rose at noon-day<br> + To the passion of the Sun,<br> + Yields the fragrance of her spirit<br> + To that All-compelling One—<br> + So, in ecstasy of giving,—mine to thee, O my King.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "As the nightingale new-nested,<br> + In a rapture of delight,<br> + Coins heart-love into music,<br> + Through the star-enchanted night:—<br> + So the music of thy silence is to me, O my King.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "As the full-blown moon at midnight,—<br> + (Lotus plucked from Sita's crown,)—"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +How to make an ending? How to put in best words +that image of moon in the lake was like image of him in her +heart? It was at this pause that she had sought inspiration +from her pencil-tip—and found the missing couplet. Yes. +That would please him. With a half-smile she set it down: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "As the full-blown moon at midnight,<br> + (Lotus plucked from Sita's crown,)<br> + Sees, in darkly dreaming waters,<br> + His radiant image thrown:<br> + So thine image deeply dwells in heart of me, O my King."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Not so beautiful as she wished. But if she put away the +verse at the back of her head for a while, new lines would +come singing to her, from the Beyond, and that at the most +incongruous moments, even as they had come while Audrey +discoursed of carbons, and <i>pro-tems</i>, and other invisible +bogies whose names she had joyfully dismissed from her +mind. Poor kind Audrey—so full of knowledge, so empty +of true heart's riches—had written more than once from +England and seemed content with her barren "way of the +brain." Well—to each the good they craved; and to +herself that good had been given in fullest measure. +</p> + +<p> +Then, springing from her chair, she went over to the +writing-table, with intent to slip her love-song inside his +blotter—-"for a surprise." +</p> + +<p> +Opening it, her eyes fell upon a letter just begun. Half +a dozen lines only; and her quick brain seized them at a +glance: +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"DEAR JANE, +</p> + +<p> +"I am quite at a loss how to answer your confoundedly +sisterly letter of congratulation! You brandish +your zeal for the honour of our house like a two-edged +sword. As for the unspeakable brother you have hacked +into little pieces, I can only say——" +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +What—what could he only say, this priceless husband +who, on her account, had been "hacked into little pieces"? +Would hard words from his people make him angry or +sorry? Would they ever ... make him regret...? +</p> + +<p> +There sprang the question she had refrained from asking +on that evening whose watchword was Peace. Now the +blow had fallen: and he had said no word. Yet she had +seen the shadow of it in his eyes. Rigid, almost without +breathing, she stood scanning those few lines, in the dear +familiar hand, while the blood stole slowly from cheeks +and lips, back to her stunned heart and froze there... +</p> + +<p> +But the moment's merciful numbness could not last. +A new and poignant question stabbed her back to an agony +of sensation. What had she said, this "Jane," who must +be called "sister"? What manner of blows had she dealt +with her two-edged sword? +</p> + +<p> +It was plain that Nevil did not mean her to know. And +yet—she must know. The rebel strain in her—overlaid +by happiness and wifely devotion—uprose again with power; +the fighting spirit of her race that bids even its women-folk +set honour and self-respect above the duty of self-subjection +and makes the <i>purdahnashin</i> of Rajputana more of an entity +than her of Bengal. For his sake, to keep stainless the +honour of his name, she could and would defy all +things—even himself. +</p> + +<p> +But the letter——! It came yesterday. His eyes told +her that. If it were not utterly destroyed, she intended to +find and read it; not staying to consider was it right or +wrong. Once or twice she had chidden him gently for his +casual, untidy ways. Now they alone gave her hope of +success. +</p> + +<p> +With fingers that trembled and pale lips compressed, +she felt in the pockets of his holland coat, caressing it with +her cheek the while, as if to ask pardon for intruding upon +its privacies. Not there. She drew a breath of relief. +And yet—it must be found. +</p> + +<p> +Drawers, the blotter, other pockets were shrinkingly +invaded. Then her glance fell upon the waste-paper basket—and +she knew. Its plethoric state proved that it had not +been lately emptied. The letter was there. Yet she +hesitated. Something seemed to turn over inside her. Must +she ... dared she ... push her quest so far? +</p> + +<p> +The next instant she was on her knees among fragments +of transient words that yet have power to wreck the +happiness of a life. She had not seen Lady Roscoe's writing. +Broken sentences must be her guide. Straightening a +severely crumpled morsel of paper, the words "Bramleigh +Beeches" caught her attention. Ah—this was it——! +</p> + +<p> +Then—with a sharp cry, she dropped the paper as if it +had stung her, and kneeling upright pressed both hands +tightly over her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +But the words she had seen danced in letters of flame +upon the blackness. "A native mistress at Bramleigh +Beeches! Half-caste sons to carry on the name of which +we are so rightly proud——" +</p> + +<p> +Tremulous no longer, but with a tragically steadfast +deliberation, she straightened out four other fragments of +the same paper, the same writing; badly crumpled all. +He had been angry, then. A gleam of comfort in that. +The four fragments pieced themselves into a half-sheet. +Evidently not the whole letter. But she could find no +more; and this would suffice. +</p> + +<p> +It did more than suffice. For it was a large half-sheet; +and, in spite of crumpling, easy to be read. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"DEAR NEVIL (it ran), +</p> + +<p> +"You have <i>surpassed</i> your own record! I could not +bring myself to write sooner, and now—what on earth can +one say? Your last bomb-shell was bad enough, though I +always had a lurking belief things would end so. <i>But this</i>! +Had you no thought for the future? A native mistress at +Bramleigh Beeches! Half-caste sons to carry on the name +of which we are so rightly proud! In my opinion father +would be justified in cutting off your inheritance; even in +cutting you off with a shilling!" +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani puckered her brows over the cryptic utterance. +Was that what Nevil meant by hacking him into little bits? +None was by to enlighten her; and, still with her tragical +steadfastness, she read on: +</p> + +<p> +"When estates are free, it seems only common-sense that +they should go to the fittest. In our case, George, without +question. Compare his sound satisfactory engagement +and your own crazy marriage! Even if the girl had been +English, the whole affair is fatally precipitate for an +inflammable man like you." Inflammable? Precipitate? +More dread-sounding words without sense. Yet those that +followed were cruelly clear; and in reading she bit her lip +till it bled. "But a <i>native</i>! Who in their senses could +dream of your picking one up on the Riviera, where you +might so easily have picked up a presentable American +heiress, who would have been of some use to the estate. +Certainly I shall say nothing to father yet. In his present +state of health I believe the shock might kill him. When he +is stronger you can tell him yourself. As for you, <i>your</i> real +punishment will come later, when you wake up from your +infatuation—it <i>can</i> be nothing else—to find yourself tied +hand and foot for life——" +</p> + +<p> +Here the sheet ended; and the girl-wife was thankful +that the rest could not be found. In that last broken +sentence she saw her own death-warrant: no less. +</p> + +<p> +Pushing the pieces from her, she rose and paced the +room; the dear room, almost alive with the presence of +him who must be freed from the impending dilemma, when +he should wake up from infatuation.... Another strange +word. What ... exactly ... did it mean? +</p> + +<p> +Mechanically she sought her dictionary and turned the +pages with hurried nervous fingers. Ah, there it was. No +mist of tears blurred the small print. "A foolish passion, +beyond the control of reason and judgment." She formed +the words with her lips, frowning a little, as if to bring back +her mind from a long way off. Her hands were steady +when she laid down the book. +</p> + +<p> +Fresh confirmation—that was all—of the resolve that +had brought the tragical steadfastness into her eyes. Child +though she was, and passionately in love with life, there +could be no struggle; no hesitation. To her clear, +uncomplicated mind, it was all so heartrendingly simple. Sooner +than shadow of stain upon his family, his name, obliteration +of herself beyond recall. The detached stoicism of centuries +dominated her; blinding her to side issues; impelling +her toward the inevitable end. +</p> + +<p> +She stepped out on to the balcony that the peace of +evening might lay its balm upon her anguished heart. But +to-night there was no peace even here. To her overstrung +fancy, Nature's self seemed imbued with the spirit of Jane +Roscoe. Black against the sky's clear amber, the great +kindly hills loomed stern and forbidding. The placid lake +cared not one iota whether it should bear on its bosom a +radiant Lilamani or hurry a desperate one into the +next-door House of Life. +</p> + +<p> +Twilight was fading into dusk. Earth stars glowed here +and there. Shadowy boats moved upon the darkening +water. One of them might be his. Why, oh why was he +so long in coming? For the first time in her short, sheltered +life a great horror of loneliness overwhelmed her; and she +fled back into the study like a hunted thing. +</p> + +<p> +Her few words of farewell came with a strange +spontaneity, simple as speech: "Beloved—By chance I saw +your letter in blotter. By purpose I found that of your +sister, and read—because I <i>must</i> know truth. Now I go, +that the way may be clear for honour of your house. At +first you will grieve. But that will pass. There are many +women of your own land better for wife than your Lilamani. +Good-bye." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Without tear or tremor she folded that pitiful scrap of +paper; and set it on his blotter, together with her +love-song and Jane's mangled half-sheet. Then—with wide +eyes and slim hands clenched, she stood as if smitten to stone. +</p> + +<p> +He was coming! One of those boats had been his. +Reprieve? Alas, no. Merely the added anguish of enduring +his touch, his glance, before... +</p> + +<p> +The door was flung open, and he hurried towards her. +Still she did not move. His hands were on her shoulders. +His voice seemed to come from far away. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear little wife. A shame to leave her alone so long! +But poor Martino was in a bad way when I got there. +He's better now; and I believe he'll pull through this time. +I knew you wouldn't grudge him an hour or two of my +valuable company!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no ... I am glad——" +</p> + +<p> +Her tone betrayed her, and he brought his face nearer, +searching hers in the dim light. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani—you don't sound glad. And why were you +standing there like a little statue in the dusk? Tell me." +</p> + +<p> +"It is hard to tell." +</p> + +<p> +"Why? Has anything gone wrong?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I have seen ... I have read ... that letter of +your sister——" +</p> + +<p> +"Good God!" he cried in a fury of dismay. Then he +remembered. "But, my dear, you must be dreaming. I +tore it up on the spot." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Only—it is still there. I found it—one half-sheet. +Oh, how shall I ever call name of sister, woman who +wrote such cruel thing!" +</p> + +<p> +"You poor darling!" He drew her closer. "But what +possessed you to go ferretting it out like that? How on +earth did you know it was there?" +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated. The anger in his tone was more against +the circumstance than against her. But she was in no mood +to make distinctions. +</p> + +<p> +"I—I saw first your own few lines in the blotter. +Then—then I was looking everywhere, because—I had to know +full truth——" +</p> + +<p> +"Not if <i>I</i> didn't wish you to. If I'd meant you to see +that letter I should have shown it to you myself. But I'd +have died sooner! And can't you see that it was wrong and +dishonourable to go hunting among my private papers when +my back was turned——" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh no—not say that!" She shrank from his touch +that was robbing her of courage. "Only ... when I had +seen yours——" +</p> + +<p> +"What devil's luck led you to see mine? Of course, I +ought to have been more careful. But you don't meddle +with my writing-table as a rule. What on earth took you +there to-day?" +</p> + +<p> +She covered her face, and for the first time her voice lost +its steadiness. +</p> + +<p> +"If you will speak more gently, and leave off from hurting +me—with your eyes——" +</p> + +<p> +"My darling! I wouldn't hurt you for the world. It's +you who have hurt yourself so cruelly in spite of the pains I +was at to spare you. That's what makes me angry; that +and Jane's egregious effusion——. But tell me—what +took you to that wretched blotter?" +</p> + +<p> +"Only I wanted to put inside, for a surprise—some +verses I had made——" +</p> + +<p> +"Verses? Let me see them." He moved swiftly to the +table, thankful for the welcome change of subject. "Where +are they, little wife?" +</p> + +<p> +But she sprang past him, and snatching at the paper, +crumpled it in her hand. "No. Not now." +</p> + +<p> +"Why not now?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh—it is all different——" +</p> + +<p> +"It is not all different. You made those verses for me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Then they are mine. I want them. Give them to me +at once!" +</p> + +<p> +The half-playful note of command hurt more than all. +</p> + +<p> +"But not to read—yet," she pleaded, so earnestly, that +he must needs humour her, puzzled and distressed though +he was. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, if you really wish it, we'll read them together +later to take the taste of all this out of our minds." +</p> + +<p> +Together! The word was like a javelin flung at her. +But he, all unwitting, proceeded to smooth his crumpled +treasure on the table, and so caught sight of her note. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo! What's this?" he said. +</p> + +<p> +And she, with a quick-drawn breath: "That—you may +see now." +</p> + +<p> +Then, with the soft rush of a winged thing, she sped past +him—out, and down into the night. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment, knowing her shy ways, he fancied she had +merely slipped into her shrine, and drew nearer the window +to decipher his note. One hurried glance enlightened him. +With an oath he crushed the paper into his pocket; and, +turning, beheld her, flitting like a pale moth, through the +dark of the garden. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani, stop! I command you!" he shouted. "I'm +coming down." +</p> + +<p> +Then he sped after her, clearing the short flight of stairs +almost at a bound. He believed her capable, at such a +crisis, of carrying out her fell purpose in defiance of his +command; and those few moments of poignant fear lit up +his whole consciousness as a searchlight illumines a night of +stars. Deeply and honestly as he loved her, he had not +known how terribly dear she was to him—till now. So +much, at least, Jane's letter had achieved—— +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani! Stop, for God's sake!" he shouted again, +once he was clear of the house. But she fled on.... +</p> + +<p> +When he came up with her, she was clambering on to a +rock, whence she could jump straight into deep water. +</p> + +<p> +Swiftly his arms closed round her from behind, drawing +her down to his level. Desperately, and in silence, she +fought for freedom; submission of wifehood swept aside +by the fierce resolve not to spoil his life. Her delicate body +seemed animated with superhuman strength: and he, +hoping to soften her tearless passion of resistance, tried to +win possession of her lips. But she turned her head away +sharply; speaking at last, between quick-coming breaths. +</p> + +<p> +"Go, go—leave me! Hard now—but afterwards—" +</p> + +<p> +A swift shudder convulsed her; and, lest he notice it, she +began struggling afresh. +</p> + +<p> +"Beloved—have you quite lost your senses?" he cried, +a sharp ring of fear in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +"It is possible. So much better—that I go. But not +say—beloved." +</p> + +<p> +By sheer force he held her to him. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall say it. Because it's true. And you <i>shall not go</i>." +</p> + +<p> +No fear in his tone now; but the deep strong note of +command, that called to the primitive deeps in her: nor +called in vain. He felt her tense limbs relax—ever so +little; and pressed his advantage home. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani, conquer your madness, and listen to me. Is +it lip-service when you call me lord of your life?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nevil! It is truth—from my heart." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you have no right, no power to fling away that +most precious gift against my wish; and to sacrifice my +life as well——" +</p> + +<p> +"But no. With men it is otherwise. Afterwards—because +of others—you would be grateful for courage of that +Lilamani——" +</p> + +<p> +He closed her lips with his own, and felt the whole of +her melt into yielding softness at their touch. +</p> + +<p> +"I will not hear such things," he said, and drew her to +a rough seat, still holding her cautiously, as one holds a +prisoned bird, lest her madness return. "Besides," he +urged in tender reproof, "don't you know that it is very +wrong to take your own life—for any reason?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not so—with us; by right motive," she answered +with rare steadiness, for all the turmoil in her breast. +"Also, to us, death is not such great matter. Only +passing on—to next-door House." +</p> + +<p> +"But think—in that next-door House you would find +no Nevil." He felt her tremble and was glad. "You +would leave him here, alone, not able to finish his great +pictures without Sita. Did you think of that?" +</p> + +<p> +"N-no——" The word was disjointed by a sob. +</p> + +<p> +"And would you make a sister of mine," he went on, +drawing her closer still, "though she did write harsh, +abominable things in her bitterness and vexation—would you +make her virtually a murderer in my eyes—and in the eyes +of God?" +</p> + +<p> +That last thawed the frozen fountains of a grief too +deep-seated for tears. With a broken cry she clung to him as +one drowning to a spar. +</p> + +<p> +"O King of me! Forgive ... forgive...!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0205"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER V +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Her strength with weakness is overlaid,<br> + Meek compliances veil her might,<br> + Him she stays by whom she is stayed."<br> + "True Woman."—C. ROSSETTI.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +They spent a long evening in their balcony, watched +over by the wistful stars. There was much to talk +of now that she knew all: and their happiness, snatched +from the verge of extinction, had a new depth and +consciousness, that is the guerdon of pain shared and +conquered. +</p> + +<p> +So far as might be, Nevil expounded Jane, and the +remoteness of her view-point from his own; an assurance +that was balm to the hurt soul of his wife. He bade her, +for his sake, forget those unjust, ugly words that the writer +would surely regret when she knew his Lilamani. But she +answered truthfully that were impossible. She could only +promise not to let them poison her thoughts or embitter +her spirit. And he knew of old the value of her given word. +</p> + +<p> +Her love-song, with its musical cadences, at once +delighted him and wrung his heart. That Jane's unvarnished +candour should have struck sharp on that impassioned +outpouring, infuriated him afresh. But she should not have +the satisfaction of provoking him to a retort. Silence would +at once annoy her and convince her that, for him, the +subject was outside the pale of discussion. In the meantime, +with the dear dark head against his shoulder, the cool +clinging hand at rest within his own, he would fain forget the +existence of Jane and all her works. The high encompassing +heavens, the passionate jubilance of nightingales, thrilling +up through the dark, weaned him from thought of trivial +things; stirred within the body of his manhood, the pulse +of the Divine.... +</p> + +<p> +When it came to "good night," they whispered that the +enchantment was not broken, after all: whispered it, lest +the Gods hear and snatch away the precious thing. +</p> + +<p> +But it seemed that the Gods were sleeping, or on a +journey. For three unclouded days they rowed and read +and painted at will. Sita and Ravān emerged from their +background of hut and forest. Sita, more especially, grew +in beauty and power with each fresh sitting; nor did Nevil +Sinclair guess how much he owed to his wife's trick of +identifying herself so innately with Rāma's queen that a +sense of approaching tragedy weighed upon her heart; while, +in her misty imagining, That Terrible stood for Jane +Roscoe and her two-edged sword. +</p> + +<p> +Three unclouded days: and upon the fourth day, fell a +bolt from the blue. +</p> + +<p> +Breakfast was not long over. Lilamani sat on Sita's stool, +ready for the morning's work, and her husband stood at his +easel, when there came a telegram from England that took +all the healthy colour out of Nevil Sinclair's face. +</p> + +<p> +"My God!" he groaned under his breath; then, sinking +into a chair beside the writing-table, pressed a hand over his +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The flimsy, yellowish paper slipped unheeded to the floor +and lay there, harmless-looking as a dead leaf, till Lilamani, +treading softly, picked it up and read the curt summons +twice over, in a stunned bewilderment, before the sense +penetrated—and the pain. +</p> + +<p> +"Father has had a stroke. Serious. Come immediately." +</p> + +<p> +What a "stroke" might mean, she did not know. But +two facts were plain: grave illness, and Nevil's instant +departure—with or without her? Which would it be? For +answer, she had only the leaping hammer-strokes of her +heart. +</p> + +<p> +A second or two she stood, while all things seemed +smitten into a sudden unnatural silence. Then, softlier +still, she drew near her husband. +</p> + +<p> +Feeling her nearness, he looked up; and she saw the +brave blue of his eyes veiled in tears. The pang that smote +her was not all grief: it was the birth-pang of that +mother-tenderness which is the diviner half of woman's love for +man. To the Eastern wife it is impermissible till actual +motherhood add a cubit to her stature; and, with a thrill +at her own presumption, Lilamani Sinclair slipped a hand +round her husband's head, drawing it close into the softness +of her breast and cradling it there, as though he were +indeed her son. +</p> + +<p> +"The dear old man. Always such a tower of strength," +Nevil said at last, without looking up. "When Jane wrote +that he was not quite himself, one never thought—of <i>this</i>. +God knows I've been a disappointing son to him. But I +felt sure—if only he could see you—— Well, there's hope +still——" He drew himself up, brushing the mist from +his lashes. "Time's everything. I'll wire to Jane and we +must start to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"We?" The word was little more than a breath; and +her eyes, quick with love's clairvoyance, dwelt on his. +"Were you really meaning——? Is it not better—in +such time of trouble—not to make more...?" +</p> + +<p> +"But Lilamani!" He gathered her close. "How on +earth can I leave you here—alone?" +</p> + +<p> +"'Can' is always making a way, when there is 'must'!" +she answered, smiling bravely. She had seen a ghost of +indecision in his eyes, had heard it in his tone. +</p> + +<p> +"But there's no 'must,'" he persisted, love and chivalry +conquering his suspicion that she spoke truth. "You're my +wife; and I'm proud of the fact. Even Jane couldn't be +otherwise than decent to you—at a time like this. As for +the dear old man—he needn't know till he's fit to see you +himself. And if—— There's no 'if.' And there's no +'must' either—is there—now I've made things clear?" +</p> + +<p> +He was talking valiantly against his own conviction. +She saw it too clearly: saw that, for all his dread of parting, +her presence now at Bramleigh Beeches would but serve +to pile anxiety upon anxiety, pain on pain for the husband +who was her all. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps not 'must,'" she admitted wistfully. "Yet +still—because of your father ... better to go alone. +Also for me—it is too soon—meeting Lady Roscoe—after +that letter——" +</p> + +<p> +"You're right. It <i>is</i> too soon!" He spoke with sudden +heat. "Too soon for me, if it comes to that. But this +is no time for squabbling; and of course—if you're not +there.... I believe you're right, little wife. Better have +the wrench now than risk spoiling everything by taking you +home at the wrong moment. But you shan't be left alone. +I'll wire to your father. Lucky he's in Paris. Shall I ask +him if he can come at once, or take you along to join him?" +</p> + +<p> +"No—not that!" She shrank from so complete a break. +"Tell him 'Come soon.' He will. Somehow, he will. +For his Lilamani." +</p> + +<p> +"But at soonest he can't be here before to-morrow night. +Twenty-four hours. You—who have never been alone in +your life! I should be haunted by the thought of you...." +</p> + +<p> +"No—oh no. You must believe I am brave Lilamani +for your sake. Signor Martino and his sister will be kind; +and in the evening time I will write you longest letter you +ever had!" +</p> + +<p> +Smiling, he pressed her hands between his own. Then +they must needs forget themselves and each other in +telegrams, time-tables, and flying orders; hateful, merciful +trivialities that thrust themselves in between the anguished +heart and the too nimble imagination, the terrible second +self that stands outside the picture—watching, pitying, +recording, and so intensifying emotion. +</p> + +<p> +The telegrams written, Barnes must be told. Barnes was +Sinclair's valet; faithful, but of late, mildly remonstrant. +He received the news from home with a decorous air of +sympathy due to any trouble that shadowed the prospective +owner of Bramleigh Beeches, even if he had "married +beneath him, in a manner of speaking." Mrs. Sinclair's taste +for cookery was suspicious—to say the least; and—he +wondered, discreetly, how much they knew "at home." Well—he +would soon find out now: and, on the whole, though +that there Miss Juliet was a "taking piece, and pretty well +up on the balcony-trick," he could do with a few weeks' +return to British Bass and an honest cut off the Sunday +joint. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, he advertised his sympathy by an +elaborate lightness of tread and a voice pitched half a tone +lower than usual. Discovering that the journey was to be +a single affair, he patted himself on the back for "a knowing +bird." It was a hole-and-corner business. He had +suspicioned as much from the first. Peculiar, when you came +to think of it; but there hadn't bin no letters with the +Bramleigh postmark addressed to Mrs. Nevil Sinclair so far +as he knew. The young master wasn't quite such a fool as +that amounted to. Trust him. A courtesy marriage: he, +Horatio Barnes, would have took his Bible oath; only that +the lady's father was obviously "in it"—whatever "it" +might be. But then—Lord love you!—when it come to +heathens, however well-turned out, there was always dark +possibilities in lurk; as he had gleaned from certain of the +young master's books. For Barnes was a bit of a scholard in +his own esteem. He had read of Japanese and Burmese +marriages, in which parents were quite agreeable to a +temporary arrangement. The notion occurred to him now: +and he chuckled inwardly at his own astuteness. You never +knew when an odd bit of reading might nip in handy. At +all events—mum was the word. A bat in daylight could +see as much. And mum it should be for him till the lay of +the land seemed to justify speech: which he didn't go for +to suppose it would. +</p> + +<p> +Thus Horatio Barnes, moving like Agag, between the +portmanteau and the chest of drawers: while Nevil +Sinclair, stunned and miserable, gave not a moment's thought +to the inferences a valet might draw from his latest move. +He only saw that Lilamani was right; astonishingly, beautifully +right, as she was apt to be in matters seemingly outside +her ken. By some instinct of the spirit, that took the +place of worldly wisdom, she had seen more instantly than +he the impossibility of arriving at such a crisis with an +unacknowledged wife, in the face of Jane's unacknowledged +letter. For himself, eyes and judgment had been blinded +by grief, by chivalrous consideration, and the natural desire +that he had of her. +</p> + +<p> +And how long would he be gone? Neither dared approach +that question till Sir Lakshman's answering telegram +forced them back upon a topic too painful for gratuitous +talk. When it came, Nevil—still pale and shaken—was +mechanically swallowing a biscuit and a glass of sherry, +while they talked in the jerky, unnatural manner of those +about to part; carefully avoiding each other's eyes. Only +yesterday, at tea-time, they had been behaving like two +children; she, perched lightly on his knee; and he, +insisting that she should "bless" each cake he ate by daintily +biting off a corner herself. Only yesterday! It seemed a +week away. Now he swallowed unblessed morsels without +tasting them, and handed Sir Lakshman's answer to his +wife. +</p> + +<p> +"He'll be with you this time to-morrow. Thank God +for that much," he said without looking at her, while he +fumbled at the clasp of his cigarette case. "I suppose—I +hope to goodness he can stay—till I come back." +</p> + +<p> +"How soon is that?" she whispered, folding the paper +into diminishing parallelograms with minute care. "One +week—or two?" +</p> + +<p> +"Impossible to tell, little wife." He had lighted his +cigarette now and coming nearer laid a sustaining hand on +her shoulder. "Everything depends—on him. But you +may trust me to come straight back to you the first moment +I honestly can." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—yes. But so long as they are needing you—please +stay..." +</p> + +<p> +At this point they were interrupted by Agag with another +telegram from the stationmaster at Lucerne; and once +more the hateful, merciful actualities cleft them apart. +Sinclair blessed his wife's tearless composure even while he +marvelled at it in one so young, and withal so passionate, +as he had discovered her to be. But the Eastern temperament +is a thing of extremes. Either it will beat the breast +and wail unrestrainedly upon the least provocation, or it +will endure to the utmost with a stoicism almost sublime. +Much hangs on caste. In Lilamani Sinclair, inherited +instinct forbade the indignity of uncontrolled outcry or lament; +and his pain, his need of small services, eclipsed all thought +of—afterwards. +</p> + +<p> +But there came the dread inevitable moment when the +last label was writ, the last key turned in its lock, and +they two stood alone in her shrine, dumbly, acutely aware +that here was an end—not of their love, but of that +sublimited phase of it that comes once only, and by no means +to all. +</p> + +<p> +To Nevil came also a sudden unreasoning fear of the lake. +It was too soon to leave her—too soon. True, her madness +was past; yet, in their after-talk, he had discerned at +the heart of it, a deep, underlying idea that at once lifted it +above a mere desperate impulse and made it the more liable +to recur. The oppressive sense of Death's imminence, of +life's instability, that was upon him, quickened his dread. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani," he said hoarsely, gripping her two hands +with a force that was pain, "I <i>can't</i> leave you alone here, +even for one night, unless you promise me, by whatever you +hold most sacred, not to let—that madness of yours come +back. Think of me—of the Sita pictures, of—of Jane, if +the Devil tempts you to imagine that I could ever—oh, it's +impossible! But give me your sacred word, and drive the +ugly fear out of my heart——" +</p> + +<p> +"Lord of my life," she answered, a thrill of passion in +her low tone, "I promise ... by most sacred thing of all +... that gift I shall one day give you——" +</p> + +<p> +A faint tremor here: and he—with an inarticulate +sound—gathered her into his arms; held her so, for one +measureless moment; then, whispering "God keep you, little wife," +drew her down and out into their sun-filled garden. +</p> + +<p> +The waiting boat received him. He waved as it pushed +off. She waved back, achieving a smile. Then—he was +gone; gone into the vague, unknown world of actualities: +and for many minutes she stood where he had left her, +straining to keep his boat in view through the mist that +gathered in her eyes. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0206"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VI +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Life struck sharp on death makes awful lightning."<br> + E. B. BROWNING.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Cherton is the station for Bramleigh; a small station +with a small shelter on the "down" side. When +Nevil Sinclair alighted—heart-sick and travel-sick, after +interminable hours of ceaseless, and almost sleepless, +rushing through space—it was raining, uneffusively, yet +persistently, as it can rain in July. The clouds hung low and +positive, here thinned to a whitish-grey, there heavy with +unshed tears. No bustling wind threatened to interrupt +their superfluous zeal for earth and trees and new-mown +hay already saturate to repletion. They wore a settled, +sullen look, as if they meant to stay there on and off for +days. +</p> + +<p> +Sinclair, followed by Barnes, hurried under the shelter +and commanded a fly. It arrived out of space, with the +leisurely dignity of its kind; and, for Nevil, that +four-mile drive in a superannuated brougham, smelling at once +stuffy and damp, almost broke the back of his endurance. +Yet it was his own doing that he had not been "met" by +the landau and the greys. In wiring from Paris his probable +hour of arrival, haunting thoughts of his father had +impelled him to add "if wet don't send." For at that time +the evolving motor had not quite changed the face of the +landscape, and the stench and snort of one was as smoke +to the eyes and vinegar to the teeth of the dear old man. +By way of protest, he emphasized the sanctity of his greys +and their driver: a faithful tyrant of twenty years' service. +Hence Nevil's impulse of consideration. And it was just +such endearing acts of graciousness—foreign to Jane and +George—that had gone far to keep his first-born supreme +in the father's heart, for all his tiresome perversity in +matters of greater moment. +</p> + +<p> +And now, while Nevil leaned back uneasily in the +brougham-that-was, watching dejected hedges and tearful trees +trail past him through the rain-blurred landscape, he +found himself praying, instinctively, incoherently, to the +dim God of his boyhood that he might, at worst, be granted +living sight and sound of the father he had disappointed +and deceived, before the Great Silence fell between them +for ever. No wire awaiting him in Paris seemed to +augur possible improvement. But he had been travelling +for eight hours since then; and eight minutes would +suffice ... +</p> + +<p> +While his ark of safety, lurching through the pillared +gateway, rumbled on between drenched battalions of cypress +and fir, Nevil Sinclair held thought suspended. One last +lurch, and the house loomed into view; flat-fronted, +creeper-covered, with short wings at either end: the east wing +culminating in a tower. Familiar, every line and corner +of it: yet now—tragically unfamiliar. For as Nevil +leaned out into the rain a dozen sightless windows attested +the futility of that broken prayer. +</p> + +<p> +Sir George Sinclair was dead: and the spirit of the place, +the spirits of unnumbered Sinclairs, who had lived and died +there, called mutely on Sir Nevil to rise up and reign in his +stead. But in that first shock of realization, he was simply +a son bereft of a father—hard to please or understand, yet +honestly beloved, in the queer, shamefaced fashion of his +race. +</p> + +<p> +Barnes, with eyes discreetly lowered, opened the brougham +door; and at sight of him a jarring thought intruded +on Nevil's misery. The man must be warned not to speak +of the Como establishment. It was a detestable necessity; +implying, as it did, a slur on Lilamani's fair name from +which his every instinct shrank. Yet, hateful or no, speak +he must. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, Barnes," he said under his breath, "no +chattering about my private affairs in the servants' +hall—you understand?" +</p> + +<p> +Distaste lent an unusual curtness to his tone; and Barnes +infused into his own a hint of mild reproach. +</p> + +<p> +"That might ha' gone without sayin', Sir Nevil," he +answered, still considering the wet gravel; and the +new-made baronet winced. He could have struck the man for +his glib change of address. But instead, he hurried forward +into the dim hall, smitten by a sudden acute fear that, by +some unforeseen chance, his marriage had become known; +that, he, Nevil, might even be responsible—— He could +not complete the hideous thought. Nor could he dismiss it, +till he knew—— +</p> + +<p> +But in this stronghold of the conventions all must be +done decently and in order. Through the dimness came +Madgwick, butler and major-domo, a small, shrewd-faced +man, with kindly eyes and a suspicion of red about his +eyelids. Nevil, frank and friendly always to those who +served him, shook hands in silence with the pillar of the +house. +</p> + +<p> +"Wish you could ha' got here sooner, sir," Madgwick +muttered huskily. No glib change of address for him. +"Her la'ship's waiting tea for you in the dining-room." +</p> + +<p> +He led the way and Nevil followed into a lofty, oval +space—lit by skylights and ringed by a gallery—known +as the large hall. Though not the smoking-room proper, it +had been the dead man's favourite "den"; and his spirit +clung about it in the faint, familiar smell of leather, tobacco, +and dogs. Two setters rose from the hearthrug to greet +Nevil; their tails, at a melancholy angle, wagged mere +recognition. They missed the cheerful voice and heavy +tread of their master, and the sensitiveness of humanized +animals told them something was wrong. +</p> + +<p> +As Nevil stooped to caress them, the dining-room door +opened; Madgwick obliterated himself, and Jane looked +out. +</p> + +<p> +"That you, Nevil?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +She came forward to meet him; a feminine counterpart +of Sir George; square-cut and decisive; with strong, blunt +nose, cleft chin and a lower lip that would obviously "stand +no nonsense" from woman or man. Though only five +years older than her brother, she looked more, was more, +in fact, from having lost, too early, if she had ever +possessed, the elasticity of youth. Plain, at her best, she +looked plainer than usual in an old black dress, hastily +donned; her brown hair brushed well off an uncompromising +brow; her eyes, like Madgwick's, betraying the weakness +of secret tears. In spite of mutual grief, that unanswered +letter hung between them like a bared sword. +</p> + +<p> +There was a perceptible moment of embarrassment as +they clasped hands; an embarrassment that would have +proved more awkward, but that Jane distrusted emotion, +and had not kissed her brothers since she came of age. +Determination not to let grief master her, increased her +natural air of assertion as she scrutinized Nevil's tired face +and the dumb anxiety in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor boy! You look fagged out," she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I got no sleep." +</p> + +<p> +"You came straight through, of course?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I couldn't possibly have got here sooner." +</p> + +<p> +"We were afraid not. Yet—one hoped. He—he +seemed to want you." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Did he?</i>" She had not the key to his suppressed eagerness. +"I wish to God I could have been here. When—when +was it over?" +</p> + +<p> +"About an hour ago." +</p> + +<p> +"Only an hour?" He bit his lower lip to steady it, and +she turned back to the dining-room. +</p> + +<p> +"Better have some tea before we talk any more," she +said, forcing the common-sense note. +</p> + +<p> +"A brandy and soda. No food, thanks," he answered, +following her. +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense! There are sandwiches—and scones. I +kept them hot——" She lifted the dish from the grate, +where a wood-fire crackled and sputtered in defiance of +July. "Makes the room a shade less dismal," she explained, +setting the chicken before him and returning to warm her +hands; for they were cold. "It's been raining steadily for +three days." +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause. Lady Roscoe, still warming her +hands, tried to ignore a recurrent ache in her throat; while +her brother obediently swallowed sandwiches that tasted like +shavings, and threatened to choke him. +</p> + +<p> +Then, leaning suddenly forward, he said huskily: "Jane—what +was it—that upset him? A shock?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Speculation. A big failure." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank God!" He spoke under his breath; but +with such fervour of relief that she rounded on him +sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"Nevil! Are you quite mad?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. I was afraid—by some chance, he might have +heard—that it might have been——" +</p> + +<p> +"No. It's not as bad as that. You're responsible for +enough as it is." +</p> + +<p> +She turned back to the fire. She heard Nevil push aside +his plate and empty his tumbler. Then, without looking +round, she spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +"If you really thought it might have that effect on him, +how could you bring yourself——" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil's hand came down upon the table. "We don't +want to quarrel at a time like this, Jane. The thing's done; +and I shall never regret it." +</p> + +<p> +"Never's a long word. You are sure it's binding—legally?" +</p> + +<p> +"If it were not, I should at once take steps to make it so. +That's enough." +</p> + +<p> +The quiet note of command surprised Jane. Being of the +downright, athletic type, that observes little and reflects less, +except on matters of practical moment, it did not occur +to her that love and husbandhood had naturally made her +irresponsible brother more of a man. But man or no, Jane +Roscoe was in the habit of going her own way. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm glad you had the good sense and good taste +to come by yourself," she remarked, ignoring his last two +words. +</p> + +<p> +"The good sense was not mine. It was hers," he +answered with repressed heat. "Nothing but her own express +wish would have induced me to leave her alone. Luckily +her father could come." He lit a cigar. "But Jane—about +the speculation—the failure? D'you know any +details?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. One knew he speculated, of course. But not on +such a big scale. He was writing to you when—when the +stroke came." She drew an envelope from her bag. "I +didn't read the letter. Perhaps it explains." +</p> + +<p> +He held out his hand for it, a strained hunger in his eyes. +But Jane saw only the outstretched hand. For her, eyes +were not windows of that heavenly stranger, the soul. They +were features in the human face. She knew when they +flashed anger, or held tears. The finer shades of expression +escaped her. And, while she stood pondering on matters +practical, which Death emphasizes rather than sweeps aside, +Nevil was reading his father's last words to him, shielding +his face from view. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Boy," wrote Sir George, ten minutes before +his hand was stricken powerless. "It's bad news I have to +tell you, and I'm not much use on paper. Never was. +Often as I've rated your unpractical disregard of money, +I'm thankful for it now. It may help to soften the blow. +My own regard for the 'dirty shekels' has pushed me deeper +into the hell of speculation than any of you have guessed. +I took to it, like dram-drinking, when your mother died, +and I've kept on at it ever since. Bigger ventures each +year. The luck lured me on. That and my ambition to +put you into Parliament with a small fortune at your back. +Money's everything these days, and when I'm gone I should +turn in my grave if you couldn't keep the old Place going +in the old style. +</p> + +<p> +"Well—you knocked Parliament on the head, and now +a parcel of muddle-headed fools in South Africa have +robbed you of the fortune I was scheming to leave you. +Don't be too down on your old father, boy. I've had a +black time of it, these five years, since the luck deserted me. +This last plunge was a desperation stroke. But I took the +soundest advice available and worried myself half crazy over +it. You must believe that, old boy. It was kill or cure—" +</p> + +<p> +The word that followed was a meaningless scrawl. Nevil +set his teeth and breathed deeply, while all the letters on +the page ran together into one blur. But he mastered +himself and looked up. +</p> + +<p> +"Jane—it's awful. What he must have suffered—these +last months!" +</p> + +<p> +Lady Roscoe nodded. "I told you something was wrong. +If you had come home—he might have spoken." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil winced at that. +</p> + +<p> +"Too late for 'if's,'" he said a trifle hurriedly. +"Besides—how could one imagine—— It looks like a bad +business. But this doesn't explain much." He held it out +to her. "Let me have it back. George here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Hal couldn't get away. But he hopes to come—later. +Gee's gone into Bramleigh—on business. He's +good at doing things. But you must take your right place +now, Nevil." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course." +</p> + +<p> +He frowned. He was tired, jarred, unstrung. She +would have liked to put a hand on his shoulder, to take the +edge, if might be, off her cruel letter. +</p> + +<p> +But it is the penalty of those who are afraid of emotion, +that at rare moments of true feeling they are tongue-tied, +prisoned in the fortress themselves have built. +</p> + +<p> +So Jane Roscoe mechanically re-read the address on her +father's letter, and Nevil Sinclair pushed back his chair +with a sigh. "Where's Christina?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Kit? She's back from Germany. Arrived this morning: +just in time. Nevil"—she hesitated between pain +and embarrassment—"won't you come up—to his room?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—yes——" There were light steps in the large +hall. "That must be the Kitten," he said in a changed +tone. "I'll see her first." +</p> + +<p> +And as Christina entered, Jane passed out. +</p> + +<p> +They were as little alike as sisters could well be. Slim +and fair as her brother, Christina had the Nevil eyes and +brow where imagination sat enthroned; though tempered +by a modified edition of the Sinclair mouth and chin. She +was three-and-twenty, fresh from studying music in +Germany; well up in modern theories and philosophies, but a +tyro, as yet, in the greater philosophies of the heart and of +life. Christina she had been baptized. Kit she was called; +the longer name, however beautiful, having small chance of +survival in a century dominated by the snippet, the postcard, +and the monosyllable. Harold became Hal, and even +George had been reduced to "Gee." Nevil, who was artist +enough to object, had always been thankful that his own +name triumphantly withstood the "potting" process. +</p> + +<p> +At sight of him Christina gave a little cry. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Nevil, my dear, I never knew you had come!" +</p> + +<p> +As he rose, she flew to him, and cried a little on his +shoulder, while he patted her head. +</p> + +<p> +"Such a comfort to have you," she murmured between +two sniffs. "Jane's so hard. I know she's miserable. But +she wears chain-mail under her clothes, and makes one feel +a hysterical fool if one breaks down." She lifted her head +and saw tears in his eyes. "Oh, Nevil—it was awful! +He—he never knew me; and—I almost wished—I had +come too late. Am I a despicable coward?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, no," he said, recalling his own sensations at Monte +Carlo. "It is a natural shrinking. I quite understand." +</p> + +<p> +"You always do." She dabbed her eyes with an ineffectual +wisp of lawn, already saturate, and regarded him +lovingly. "I can hardly believe it's a whole year since I +said good-bye to you at Dover. Yet you look older, graver; +and I'm glad you've taken up art in earnest. It's a sort of +'rainbow bridge,' joining the prose and poetry in us, isn't +it?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"But you've been a fiend about writing," she went on, +pressing his arm. "Not a letter worth speaking of in the +last three months." +</p> + +<p> +"Sorry, Christina. But we were both busy studying, +weren't we?" he answered, looking thoughtfully at an +impish blue flame that spurted from the crevice of a log. +Then, because Christina was his sister every way, truth +must out. "Besides, two months ago—I got married." +</p> + +<p> +"Nevil! You—married?" Eager curiosity gleamed +through her tears. "But what on earth made you keep +it so dark?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well—there were difficulties——" he said uneasily, +still studying the flame. Then thought of Lilamani +shamed him, and he looked his sister in the face. "The +truth is—I've married a beautiful Indian girl of eighteen. +A Hindu. I wouldn't let her change." +</p> + +<p> +"Good heavens! And you never told anyone?" +</p> + +<p> +"Only Jane. She's furious, of course." +</p> + +<p> +"Not—not father?" Voice and eyes were lowered. +</p> + +<p> +"No. I knew it would upset him. I was waiting——" He +bit his lip. "Look here, Christina—I had to tell you. +But we won't talk of it—yet. When—when all's over, I +must announce it. Then you shall hear more—— Are +you horrified?" he added hastily. +</p> + +<p> +"N-no. I'm sort of stupefied with amazement. But it's +so romantic. So interesting. I want to hear lots more." +</p> + +<p> +"You shall. Later on. I'm going up now——" She +shut her eyes and shivered. "Sit you down there, old girl," +he said tenderly, "and try to read." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I can't read. Nevil, you are a dear! Come back +soon." +</p> + +<p> +"All right." +</p> + +<p> +Through the large hall he went, into the lesser one, and +on up the broad staircase with reluctant feet. +</p> + +<p> +He had felt the fact so far: not realized it. He dreaded +the realization, that grew with every step through the +unnatural silence of the house. The dear old man! It seemed +incredible, even in the face of overwhelming proof. +Instinctively the human soul rejects the fact of death, that +seals the door of the charnel-house yet opens a window +towards infinity. Mind and senses assert glibly: "Dust +thou art——" The soul, unconvinced, whispers: "If in +this life only we have hope——" And between both the +heart of man swings like a pendulum, now this way, now +that, inclining always toward the larger view; realizing, in +moments of lucid vision, that the impersonal force men call +death is not merely the King of Terrors, but the King of +Life, which, without that inexorable shadow at the +crossroads, would be shorn of half its meaning and more than +half its glory. +</p> + +<p> +Nevil Sinclair—man of misty beliefs and clear intuitions—had +recognized this aforetime. To-day, mounting the +staircase of Bramleigh Beeches, he recognized only that he +had lost his father: a loss no faith in immortality could +lessen or make good. +</p> + +<p> +As he neared the door, Jane's black, square figure +retreated down the passage. For a second or two he stood +looking after her. Then he softly turned the handle and +went in——. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0207"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VII +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "A man's foes shall be they of his own household."<br> + ST. MATTHEW.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was over. Everything was over: formalities, letters +of condolence, wreaths and crosses, the thud of falling +earth on Sir George's last sleeping-place, the dismal trail of +carriages, the no less dismal crowds of villagers about the +old church and graveyard. All the dreary panoply of woe, +that is gall and wormwood to the real sufferers, boasts one +justification only. It is a clumsy fashion of showing respect +to the dead. Let the living endure it as best they may. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Nevil Sinclair, the worst man on earth for public +functions, had endured it with a fortitude and tact +approved even of Jane: but this afternoon—pacing the vast +lawn, where twin-cedars made a fragrant drawing-room—he +was undeniably thankful to be "through with it all." Summer, +having got over her fit of ill-temper, was once +more a thing of sweetness and light. Rainbow sparkles +flashed from every leaf and petal; and all the birds were out +after their harvest of worms. +</p> + +<p> +Ten days, now, since he had left Como and his girl-bride. +More like a month, it seemed; so absolute, so abrupt had +been his change of atmosphere and surroundings. The +"longest letter he ever had" reposed in his breast-pocket +and a second had arrived that morning, brimful of +sympathy for his loss. Brave letters, both; though beneath +the surface cheerfulness, he discerned the ache of love and +longing, to which his own heart throbbed passionate +response. For the sake of his father it had been possible to +leave her. But now that father was gone, he grudged every +hour of his truancy. +</p> + +<p> +And yet——! +</p> + +<p> +A new sense—dormant hitherto—had been sending up +green shoots through the dark and pain of this past week; +the sense of possession, inherent in his race. For the mere +title he cared little; for the house—with its insistence on +minor tyrannies, domestic and social—less than he ought. +It was the good earth herself, the good great trees of her +begetting, the wide spaces of heather, beyond the pine +plantation, that climbed up and up behind stables and +kitchen-garden: it was these that he rejoiced to have and to +hold, to shield from the desecration of promiscuous building +that is fast converting the Queen of Home Counties into a +suburban paradise. +</p> + +<p> +More than all Nevil loved the beeches that had given the +place its name. Beyond a rose-garden that flanked the east +wing, sprang and outspread the gracious symmetry of their +trunks and limbs, grey and dull silver, dappled with mosaic +of pale lichens, robed and crowned with satin-bright +cascades of a million leaves. In May their emerald carpet +was alight with sheets of bluebells; in early autumn brown +with beech-mast, flecked with scarlet of moss-cups and fungi; +and at all times patterned with every conceivable shade of +green. Temple and storehouse of squirrels, song-birds, +pigeons, and pheasants—religiously preserved by Sir +George—the noble wood stretched on and up a bold sweep of +rising ground; ending, as the pine plantation ended, in +wind-swept spaces of heather, gorse, and broom. +</p> + +<p> +And it was his own: all his own. Magic words that no +democratic zest for parcelling out the earth in snippets will +ever rob of their deep significance. But for Nevil Sinclair +the legitimate joy of ownership was marred by revelations +brought to light during a long morning with Reynolds, the +family lawyer. He had taken his client through Sir +George's papers the day after the funeral and had made the +whole situation painfully clear to the new baronet, whose +heritage was but a fraction of the well-ordered estate left +by his grandfather, Sir Robert; an early Victorian politician +of simple tastes and rigid sense of duty. +</p> + +<p> +Hard not to censure the dead while those revelations +were in progress. Not that Sir George had been wilfully +extravagant or careless of the old place, that was nearer and +dearer to him than his God. But the Sinclairs had never +been men of wealth; and from early days of possession +"things" had gone against him; a phrase conveniently +comprehensive and vague. Blind to moral and spiritual +values—with the complacent blindness of a certain sturdy +British type, that sees life in clear-cut unlinked fragments—he +had determined that his sons should not be "hampered" +by the pinch that makes character. Their allowances had +been more liberal than the estate could afford. Nevil, in +particular, with his artist hobbies and zest for travel, had +been a costly item. But from year to year, pride and +generosity combined had withheld Sir George from telling the +truth. Then, in the loneliness following upon his wife's +death, had come the temptation—inspiration he had deemed +it then—to mend matters by gambling discreetly on the big +scale. It was the one weak point in a shrewd, level-headed, +if limited, nature. Secretly indulged in, it had exacted +penalty to the uttermost, and poisoned the whole. +</p> + +<p> +Pitiful beyond speech, it seemed to Nevil—and to Jane, +the crowning irony—that the poor old man should have lost +his life in straining after a fortune for which the son cared +little; while the heritage, for which he did care, was flung +on his hands shorn of its immemorial dignity: one-third +heavily mortgaged; the rest a costly burden hard to +maintain on the dwindled income left to him out of the wreck. +There remained, also, his pictures, and Martino's prophecy +of leaping into fame. How wise, beyond expecting, had +been his undutiful decision! Jane herself must admit that; +if not now, at least by the summer's end, when the +Ramayāna series would be near completion. A special +exhibition of them, should the subject happen to "catch on," +would at least help towards paying off the mortgage that +withheld him from full mastery of his own. +</p> + +<p> +But here a fresh dilemma tripped him up. Clearly it +seemed his duty to remain at home for the present, to +inaugurate in person the new <i>régime</i>. And behind the sense +of duty lurked a natural longing to share this new possession +with Lilamani, to install her here as Queen. Yet he had +given his word to her, and to her father, that this more +critical phase of her transplanting should not be hastily +carried out; and well he knew that the time was not yet +ripe for her, or for Jane, the unappeased; possibly the +unappeasable. +</p> + +<p> +For although the public ordeal was over, the private +ordeal had yet to come. Not until this morning had she +reverted to the subject of his marriage. Throughout the +week he had discerned a touch of sisterly fellow-feeling +beneath her chain-mail. But the revelation in her father's +last letter rankled sore; and this morning, when she +requested a word or two with Nevil after breakfast, there +could be no mistaking the repressed hostility in her tone. +She supposed that since he had married to please himself, +and was thoroughly satisfied with the arrangement, he +would now see fit to announce the fact. Distressing though +it was, to conceal it any longer might give a bad impression; +and it had occurred to her that this afternoon, when they +would all be together for tea in the large hall, would be a +suitable time. +</p> + +<p> +"A detailed confession of what you are pleased to consider +my delinquency, in full family conclave? Is that the +programme?" he asked, frowning, and looking out across +the lawn where a solitary blackbird pranced and piped, +serenely indifferent to everything but worms. +</p> + +<p> +"Put it that way, if you like," she answered with +composure. "I merely meant it would be as well that you +should tell your news in person, before the boys and Uncle +Bob go away. I haven't even mentioned it yet to Ned." +</p> + +<p> +"Very considerate of you!" said Nevil in an even tone. +"Ned" was Lord Roscoe, a milder, less formidable person +than his wife; and Nevil, seeing her determination to make +things hard for him, denied her the satisfaction of knowing +how well she was succeeding. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm quite ready, when they are," he had concluded +casually, as he left her. +</p> + +<p> +And now—he knew that they were ready; very much +ready—and that he was not. +</p> + +<p> +They had been marshalled into the large hall, nine of +them; for the Sinclairs were a clannish family, and those +who did not live in or near London had stayed on a few +days at Jane's request. While he flagrantly kept them +waiting, Nevil pictured them all discussing him in subdued +tones; mildly curious; and thankful, in secret, for +something fresh to think of; though none but Christina would +honestly have confessed the fact. +</p> + +<p> +From all save her he anticipated disapproval, if not +hostility. She and he had sat up till midnight in the study +one evening and had talked it all out. He had shown her +the big carbon photo of his portrait and converted her into +a hot partisan. But of the rest there was little hope: his +two brothers, well-groomed, conventional types of the +professions they adorned; George's fiancée, Phillippa +Weston—commonly called Phil; Miss Julia Sinclair, cultured, +within due limits, and devoted to good works; Sir Robert +Sinclair, a leading light of the Foreign Office, lately retired, +and his wife, Lady Margaret, daughter of a Scottish peer, +mannered, suave, unimpeachably correct. Beyond these +remained only Jane herself, Lord Roscoe—a sound Conservative, +though too purely a student and a philosopher to approve +his wife's vehement party-spirit; and Jeffrey Moss, +Vicar of Bramleigh, a second cousin once removed. For +the Bramleigh living was in the Sinclairs' gift, and it +behoved them to "keep it in the family." Nevil suspected +that Sunday's casual invitation for Tuesday had been given +with this event in view; a suspicion that did not allay his +repressed irritation or facilitate the task in hand. +</p> + +<p> +Not all his loyalty to Lilamani could make so public a +confession, other than distasteful to a man of Nevil's +temperament. His very insight put him at a disadvantage. +He understood these Sinclairs far better than they +understood him. He could see the thing through their eyes; +could gauge to a nicety their half-nervous, half-resentful +attitude towards the abnormal, more especially when that +particular devil entered into a pillar of the house. +</p> + +<p> +He drew out his watch and whistled softly. In common +decency he could keep away no longer; and passing +through the great domed conservatory, he entered the large +hall. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Robert—thick-set and slightly convex, with clipped +beard and pince-nez perched at an inquiring angle—dominated +the hearth-rug, by instinct, though no fire justified +his attitude. The rest made dismal black patches about +the room; and Jane stood at the heavy gate-leg table, +dispensing tea. Her eyes challenged Nevil's as he entered. +He returned her look without flinching; greeted the Vicar +and joined Sir Robert on the hearth-rug. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, my lad, we've been wondering what had come +to you," said the leading light of the Foreign Office; and a +heavy hand on Nevil's shoulder, acutely reminiscent of Sir +George, sent a pang through his son's heart. "Where've +you been—eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"Strolling round the place. Taking things in," Nevil +answered in a level tone, so unusual with him that Christina +looked up; and Sir Robert remarked, as one who makes a +discovery: +</p> + +<p> +"A goodly heritage, boy." +</p> + +<p> +His nephew nodded absently, one hand stroking and +twisting his moustache, a gesture Christina knew of old. +</p> + +<p> +"Tea, Nevil?" from Jane. +</p> + +<p> +"Please." +</p> + +<p> +He roused himself; fetched it, and made room for his +cup among a crowd of small bronzes on the mantelpiece: +pheasants, dogs, foxes, and others. They had been a weakness +of his father's; and most of them were his own boyish +gifts. +</p> + +<p> +While he displaced them thoughtfully, an under-current +of talk revived between Lord Roscoe and the Vicar, George +and Miss Weston. +</p> + +<p> +Then fell the question he dreaded. It was Sir Robert +again: Chairman of the Committee, thought his disrespectful +nephew, in half-amused irritation. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Nevil, what's the great secret you've got up your +sleeve? Jane's been making us curious. Good news, I +hope. We need it." +</p> + +<p> +"The best possible news, so far as I'm concerned," Nevil +answered, not without a hint of defiance. Dread confession +as he might; to apologize, even remotely, for Lilamani, was +an insult nothing should induce him to offer her. "The +fact is—while I was abroad I got married." +</p> + +<p> +"The devil you did!" Sir Robert's amazement rippled +round the room in a broken murmur. "That's news +indeed! Nothing like marriage to check your craze for +continental life. Money—I hope? The Place calls for it. +But what have you done with the lady? She ought to be +here." +</p> + +<p> +"She ought; I admit; if the circumstances were normal. +But—they're not." +</p> + +<p> +"Eh—what's that? Not normal?" Sir Robert peered +distressfully over his nippers at the two girls. "What the +deuce have you been up to now, Nevil? Don't tell me +you've married a variety actress, or a foreigner?" +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose you want the truth," Nevil said, sipping his +tea. "My wife happens to be an Indian girl; a Hindu of +very good family, cultivated, beautiful——" +</p> + +<p> +"But—but—good Lord! A native! Good Lord!" Sir +Robert broke in testily, his dismay echoed by minor +explosions from Harold and George; while Miss Sinclair +dropped her knitting with a gasp. She rather prided herself +on being broad-minded; had lately called on two Romanists +in her neighbourhood, and found them "really quite +estimable people—up to their lights——" But a Hindu! +And poor George's son——! +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps—a converted Hindu, dear Nevil?" she ventured, +dreading an outburst from her hot-tempered brother +at a moment when even raised voices jarred her sense of +fitness and decorum. +</p> + +<p> +"No. She's not converted. Nor likely to be," Nevil +answered bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +"But, dear boy, surely it would be possible to——? +Our good Jeffrey is so convincing; and Hindus, I have +always heard, are remarkably intelligent and open to +reason——" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Aunt Julia. My wife is quite remarkably +intelligent." A spark of the Sinclair temper flashed in Nevil's +eyes, and lent an edge to his quiet tone. "She knows the +Bible better than some of us do; and religion means a great +deal more to her than to the average Christian——" +</p> + +<p> +"Come, come, Nevil! No blasphemy——" Sir Robert +interposed with repressed heat. +</p> + +<p> +"Blasphemy, Uncle? I am stating a fact; and I want +to make it clear that there will not be any call for Jeffrey's +good offices, when I do see fit to bring my wife home." +</p> + +<p> +"You mean to bring her <i>here</i>, then? A heathen Lady +Sinclair, under your father's roof?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly. In time. What else?" +</p> + +<p> +"The devil knows what else! Thank God George has +been spared <i>this</i>," he added, lowering his voice. Then he +swung round sharply. "What do you think of your +brother's madness, Jane?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have told Nevil quite frankly what I think," said she. +"Outside his own infatuation, there can be no two opinions +on the subject." +</p> + +<p> +But such arrogant assumption of certainty was too much +for Christina, who, for Nevil's sake, had repressed herself +valiantly so far. Now she leaned forward, defiance in her +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"There <i>can</i> be two opinions, outside infatuation. Because +there's mine. I don't want to seem impertinent, but +I never thought you would all be so narrow-minded, so insular——" +</p> + +<p> +"Be quiet, Kit," sharply, from Jane. "You <i>are</i> impertinent; +and your opinion goes for nothing." +</p> + +<p> +"Doesn't it, indeed? I'm not so sure," quoth the +nineteenth-century rebel, less easily quenched than her of the +eighties. +</p> + +<p> +In vain she tried to catch Nevil's eye. He had half +turned his back, and was rearranging the small bronzes, +seemingly indifferent to the tea-cup tempest. But Christina +knew better. She longed to hit out furiously at them all; +or to get up and throw her arms round his neck. But again +she knew better. +</p> + +<p> +"More tea, George?" came the voice of Jane, the inexorable. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Sinclair handed his cup, and Lord Roscoe went +quietly out. As a peace-loving man, family dissensions +offended his taste, and a certain look in Jane's eyes was +always a signal for retreat. A glance over his shoulder +drew the Vicar after him. Lady Margaret, bored and a +little disgusted, followed in their wake. Phillippa glanced +tentatively at her lover, who was scowling into his tea-cup; +and she, being young and curious, kept her seat. +</p> + +<p> +Then Sir Robert—seeing that nothing remained but to +accept the lamentable fact—said with less heat: "Well, +Nevil, your minor eccentricities have been a joke to this +one. But since you've tied yourself for life to an Asiatic, +there's no more to be said. A civil marriage, I suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"And may we be allowed to know your immediate plans?" +</p> + +<p> +"I must return to Italy as soon as things are more or +less in order. Probably the end of this week." +</p> + +<p> +"And shut up the Beeches?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why not? But as George is on leave, he might as well +put in his time here and see to things a bit. Jane, I know, +considers him a good deal fitter for that sort of thing than +myself." +</p> + +<p> +"Thanks, old chap. Awfully good of you." George's +tone suggested sarcasm. "Leave you free to devote +yourself to the enchantress—eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm hard at work on a series of pictures," Nevil +answered, addressing his uncle and ignoring the thrust. "I +hope to exhibit them this winter. I've done one since my +marriage of which Signor Martino thinks very highly." +</p> + +<p> +"The picture you wrote of?" asked Jane. +</p> + +<p> +"No. That was her portrait. I gave it to her father." +</p> + +<p> +"H'm." +</p> + +<p> +This was more than Christina could stand. "He's got +a ripping big photo of it upstairs," she broke out eagerly. +"You ought to see it. Nevil, really they ought. Mayn't I +fetch it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, if you like," he answered indifferently, chilled to +disgust by their reception of his news. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Sinclair glanced up, mildly expectant: +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Nevil, I am so glad there is a picture——" Devotion +to the entire family tree, even unto the remotest tips +of its many branches, was a part of her creed. Hindu or +no, by some means she must manage to assimilate this new +niece. +</p> + +<p> +Christina reappeared in no time, lifting her trophy high, +for all to see, and a murmur of reluctant admiration went +round the room. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Sinclair held out a hand. "Let me look at it closer, +dear. My sight is not what it was." +</p> + +<p> +She looked closer and her brown eyes grew wide. "Why, +Nevil, she is really beautiful! And this is your work?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"No wonder your Italian friend thinks well of it. +Remarkable. Look, Robert." +</p> + +<p> +"H'm. Very good-looking. Quite life-like. You've come +on extraordinarily, Nevil, I must say." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Thanks to my wife. Leseppes, the great French +painter and critic, expects me to make a name. Lucky—as +things stand—that I did take up art seriously. Bramleigh +Beeches needs the shekels, eh, Jane?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very much so. If they ever come in," she answered, +her gaze fixed searchingly on the new Lady Sinclair's face. +"This is promising. Very. It's your staying power I +doubt." +</p> + +<p> +Without further comment, she passed the picture on to +George; who glanced at it half in disdain; then whistled +softly. +</p> + +<p> +"My word, but she's a beauty! Trust Nevil! What +age, old chap?" +</p> + +<p> +"Eighteen," said Nevil, jarred by a savour of the stable +in his brother's tone. But George, serenely unobservant, +added, with the experienced sagacity of four years' service +in India: "M', yes. From seventeen to twenty native +girls are about as alluring as they make 'em, even the +commoner sort. The deuce of it is they're middle-aged by +thirty. Run to flesh, and——" +</p> + +<p> +"Damn you, shut up!" Nevil flashed out, losing control +of himself at last. +</p> + +<p> +"Nevil—dear!" she protested in dismay; and Christina, +snatching away the photo, muttered wrathfully: "Upon +my word, George! You are a beast!" +</p> + +<p> +"Sorry, Nevil," the delinquent remarked grudgingly. +"I was only telling you the truth." +</p> + +<p> +"It's not the truth—altogether. The—the premature +ageing is chiefly the country; their feeding; their way of +life. It doesn't follow that Lilamani——" +</p> + +<p> +"Lila—which?" from Harold, who had been more +amused than otherwise by what he privately dubbed "a +family scrap." +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani," Nevil repeated with quiet emphasis, and was +thankful that just then Sir Robert emerged abruptly from +his reflections. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, my dear boy. I'm still in a fog. You +haven't told us yet how this incredible affair came to pass." +</p> + +<p> +"Another time, Uncle Bob," replied Nevil, unfeigned +weariness in his tone. "I've had about all I can put up +with at a sitting." +</p> + +<p> +At that Jane rose, decision in every square inch of her. +</p> + +<p> +"If you don't mind, I'll ask you to go now. Nevil and +I must finish talking this out alone." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite so, my dear; quite so," fussily, from Sir Robert. +"Whatever you think best." +</p> + +<p> +And they went. +</p> + +<p> +Then Jane turned to her brother. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Nevil." +</p> + +<p> +"Well? What?" +</p> + +<p> +Both spoke quietly; yet it was as if a pair of duellists had +unsheathed swords. +</p> + +<p> +"How can you talk calmly of returning to Italy this +week, when you know quite well that your rightful place is +here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course it is. If there were not very good reasons for +my being elsewhere—just now. My rightful place, if it +comes to that, is—with my wife." +</p> + +<p> +"And she refuses——?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil smiled, in spite of himself. +</p> + +<p> +"If you knew her, even slightly, you wouldn't ask such +an absurd question. It is I who refuse to bring her here—yet. +In the first place, if Martino isn't quite misguided, the +set of pictures I am working at should be worth more to +Bramleigh Beeches than my presence here this summer; and +I want to get them done, or nearly done, in the right +atmosphere. Then——" he hesitated. "You may as well +have it straight. I refuse point-blank to bring my wife to +her future home till I have clear proof that she will be +decently received by you and all the rest of them." +</p> + +<p> +It was Jane's turn to hesitate. +</p> + +<p> +"What—precisely do you mean by that?" she asked +without looking at him. +</p> + +<p> +"I mean kindly, affectionately. Just as you would +receive Miss Weston if George were in my place." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Nevil, there's a difference! You ask a good +deal——" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't ask. I am stating conditions." +</p> + +<p> +"And suppose the conditions—fail to satisfy you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am supposing," he answered coldly, "that my relatives, +even if narrow and prejudiced, are at least human +beings; that they will—later, if not now—give the woman, +who is to fill my mother's place, a fair chance of proving +that she too is human, lovable, admirable—— Good Lord, +Jane," he broke out, maddened past endurance by her chill +antagonism. "If I'd married a Hottentot or an American +negro, I could excuse you. But I presume even you will +acknowledge that there's some racial connection between +Indians and Europeans, which makes all the difference in +the world." +</p> + +<p> +Jane drew herself up. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I see that, Nevil. I may be prejudiced. +I'm not ignorant. It's quite bad enough, in any case. But +after all—we gain nothing by recriminations. And as this +child of eighteen will be virtually the head of the family, +we can but make the best of her." +</p> + +<p> +"Make her <i>feel welcome</i>," Nevil corrected, with +emphasis. "Write to her before she comes." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. If you wish it. One can say the usual polite +things. Kit, at least, can say them honestly. Does she read +English with ease?" +</p> + +<p> +"She's as well-read as Christina." He drew out his +letter-case and handed her—not without +reluctance—Lilamani's June Love-Song. "She wrote that." +</p> + +<p> +Jane read it, with raised brows: evidently impressed; +though so unrestrained an outpouring of "sentiment" was, +in her view, almost indecent. +</p> + +<p> +"Talented. And very devoted," she said in a changed +tone, handing it back. "I'll write to her, Nevil—later +on, as nicely as I can." +</p> + +<p> +But her brother, though mollified, was still sore from the +afternoon's ordeal, which was her doing. +</p> + +<p> +"It's just as well you should write her a decent letter or +two, Jane," said he with a direct look, not to be misread. +"Considering all things, you owe that much, at least, to +her—and to me." +</p> + +<p> +For once in her life Jane Roscoe was quite put out of +countenance; and before she could recover herself—Nevil +was gone. Four days later he left for Italy: for Lilamani, +and the Ramayān pictures—and peace. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0208"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VIII +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "In two little rooms my heart divides,<br> + Joy, wide awake, in one resides,<br> + While slumbering Sorrow in the other hides.<br> + Oh, Joy, sing gently in thy glee,<br> + Lest Sorrow wake through hearing thee."<br> + HEINE.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The Lake of Como in July is only for the native born; +or for banished Lilamanis, who rejoice alike in the +heat and the absence of vagrant humanity. But for all Sir +Lakshman's fatherly indulgence, that fortnight had seemed +to the bird with one wing the longest two weeks in her +life. +</p> + +<p> +While irate and bewildered Sinclairs were passing their +parochial, though not unnatural judgment upon her, she +lay alone in the night, wondering sore whether "That +Terrible" were trying to wean her lord from his "foolish +passion beyond control of reason." His letters were full of +tender devotion: but when night came, the spirit of Jane +prevailed. That haunting sentence pricked her like a thorn +left under the skin, and would continue so to do till time +should prove things definitely one way or another. But +by day she smiled bravely, because her father must not +guess; and, as often happens, in sowing courage, she reaped +happiness—of a kind. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman, intent on distracting her thoughts, had +lured her into excursions up and down the Lake, and even +across to Lugano. Then, in the quiet of their chalet, they +had enjoyed an informal reversion to the "studies" of early +days, peculiarly welcome to the man, who by rights, +should have been back in India weeks ago. But the lure +of the West, that grew in him with the years, was intensified +now by the wish to remain within reach of his child. +Stifling the voice of conscience, therefore, he had secured +leave for a longer stay, and had written smooth things to +Mataji, who tyrannized triumphantly in his absence, yet +hated, with a vitriolic hate, the unseen power that took him +oftener and oftener from her side. And, in a sense, she was +justified of her hate: she—mother of his sons, controller of +his household, guardian of his immortal soul, whose after-fate +he imperilled year upon year by these futile journeys +across the "black water," with its mysterious power to +defile. Loyal though he was to his own Motherland, the +Big Mother drew him, as she draws all who drink of the +well of knowledge; drew him into the vortex of that +unresting flux, which, while satisfying desire—of mind and +body, if not of soul—recreates it at every turn. +Multiplicity of desire—that is the Alpha and Omega of our +mercurial civilization, that runs ceaselessly to and fro, in +quest of fresh stimulant, fresh satisfaction of a hunger that +grows by what it feeds on. Hence the insidious danger of +Western education for the keen brain and sensuous nature +of the East. +</p> + +<p> +After the dazzling complexity and movement of Paris and +London, the fundamental simplicity of Indian life beneath +all its barbaric splendour, is apt to lack flavour; and though, +in a sense, discontent may be divine, it does not touch all +spirits to fine issues. Unhappily for awakening India the +average result hitherto is sterile dissatisfaction; time and +money spent out of the country; home duties left undone. +That the exceptions are most often brilliant exceptions—doubly +endowed, with the wisdom of the East by heritage, +and the knowledge of the West by acquisition—does not +disprove the critical nature of the ordeal. Sir +Lakshman—himself a brilliant exception—was yet, in some ways, a less +satisfactory working force in the great native state he +served, than men of half his ability whose hearts and +minds were not torn between opposing interests and +beliefs. As a husband, also, he wearied increasingly of +the dissonance inherent in a house divided against itself: +a dissonance that makes the home-life of the "England-returned" +one of the saddest features of a progress-at-any-price +age. But, when all is said of drawbacks and +dissonance, there remains the existence of a real Indian +renaissance, working, like all true growth, from within +outward, to what ultimate end who shall prophesy—as +yet? +</p> + +<p> +In Sir Lakshman's home, the daughter after his own heart +had been the main redeeming feature; and, bereft of her, +he came near to dreading return. The fortnight she found +so long had, for him, been all too short. +</p> + +<p> +It was over now. To-night the man who had robbed him +of his treasure would return to claim his own. To-morrow +he supposed he must be gone. But Lilamani would not +hear of that. Nevil would surely have much to ask him +of the Ramayāna pictures. He need not think to escape so +easily! +</p> + +<p> +Would she not like to go over and meet her lord, he asked, +the little station of Menaggio—or even at Lugano. But +she shook her head; eyes darkly shining; and he understood. +This meeting, after long absence, was a thing too +charged with sacred emotion to take place anywhere but +in their garden of dreams. Let her have patience, only a +little, and he would come in the Hour of Union—their +veriest hour; even as the sun, husband of earth, descends +after the day's work to meet her at the time of sleep. +</p> + +<p> +And so it was. In the Hour of Union, he came. Sitting +on the balcony they sighted the little white boat afar off. +She fluttered a handkerchief, leaning over the rails; and +he, standing up recklessly, waved his hat. +</p> + +<p> +Down she sped into the garden, and there awaited him +in a shadowed corner near the bench where he had won +her back to life and love. She heard the keel kiss the +shore; saw the slim, alert figure—dark now, because of +his loss—hurrying up the slope with long strides. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as he sighted her—his low call: "Lilamani"; +and her throbbing answer: +</p> + +<p> +"King of me. I am here." +</p> + +<p> +The rest was sacred to themselves and the unheeding +stars, that trembled into life one after one, while they two +lingered, heart against heart, humanly loath to let the good +minute go. +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, did it seem so long?" +</p> + +<p> +"Endless ages—to me, waiting. For you it was different. +So much to think, to do—to suffer." She stroked +the dark sleeve of his coat. "But now—all is past. Come +in the little nest. Father will be waiting us. He is saying +he must go to-morrow. But we will not push him away +first minute, will we?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course not. He likes the picture?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. He is so pleased over all. Not sorry now for +trusting me to English husband! Oh—and Nevil, he will +tell you—such a plan! I hope you agree." +</p> + +<p> +"Something to do with you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes. With all three." +</p> + +<p> +"Come on then. Let's hear it. I couldn't refuse you +anything to-night—Lady Sinclair!" +</p> + +<p> +But having brought father and husband together, she +left them "to talk the plan" at leisure. She herself had +inevitably some mysterious dish on hand in honour of her +lord's return. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman greeted his son-in-law with genuine, if +restrained friendliness, and regret for his loss; regret +privately increased by a natural anxiety as to its effect upon +his daughter's immediate future. They spoke for a while +of Sir George, of the crippled estate, of Nevil's +prospects as artist and landowner. Then came the crucial +question. +</p> + +<p> +"You ought now to remain in England, and look after +this home of your ancestors?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—-I believe I ought," Nevil answered, pensively +twisting his father's signet-ring. +</p> + +<p> +"Then you came back only to fetch Lilamani, and other +belongings?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil's direct look put the Hindu out of countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Lakshman, I gave you my word." +</p> + +<p> +"H'm. The word of an Englishman. I should have +known. But remember, Nevil, I have had dealings with all +kinds of humans. Even the Englishman is not immaculate! +And men of all races, desiring some great gift, are ready +for big promises that afterwards they may conveniently +forget." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"True enough. But I think you may trust me, sir. +Not that I'm any better than the rest. Only—I love my +wife a deal too well to run risks with her happiness." He +flushed awkwardly in making the confession; adding, yet +more awkwardly: "A man doesn't speak of such things. +But I do want to give you confidence in me." +</p> + +<p> +"That I have more and more; especially since these days +spent alone with her. And—your family——?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil, not unprepared, looked steadily out of the window. +</p> + +<p> +"My elder sister will write and make her welcome—and +be good to her, though they won't have much in common. +My younger sister—more like myself—is longing to know +her. My brothers are seldom at home. They all admired +her picture. Then—there is Mrs. Despard——" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. That is good. She understands like few of your +race. And you mean to return—by what time?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not till the summer's over—they're having a wretched +one at home—and my new picture's nearly done. But +what's the great plan she spoke of that concerns all three +of us?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, that——" Sir Lakshman's face lit up. "Since I +do not now sail till September, I was thinking how delightful +if you and she shall come only to Egypt. There we +shall all spend a week together. Then I go on by next +mail; you returning same time—if you will. You have +seen Egypt?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. I should like it of all things, only——" renewed +awkwardness here—"I must think it over. I believe we +might manage." +</p> + +<p> +But Sir Lakshman, guessing his thought, took him kindly +by the arm. +</p> + +<p> +"You do not quite take my meaning, Nevil. It is not +for you to manage. The plan is mine altogether. My +parting gift—you may call it—to my child. For her it +will be greatest pleasure imaginable. For myself—I need +not say! And you—with these bold pictures in your +brain—though Egypt is much different from India, yet how +excellent to feel for yourself the spirit—what you artists call +atmosphere—of the East. Now—you will come?" +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, sir. It'll be splendid. Lilamani will love +it, of course——" A minute prick of apprehension checked +him. Would she love it more than he quite cared about? +How would it affect him to see his Eastern wife among +Easterns, even though not her own people? +</p> + +<p> +He thrust the disturbing questions aside; and Sir +Lakshman, not enlightened this time, added: "Of course, +in September it will still be hot. But that you would not +mind?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a bit." +</p> + +<p> +Vaguely disconcerted, he strolled over to his easel, and +they talked Ramayāna till the door of the shrine opened +softly, and a mother-o'-pearl Lilamani, with the buckles of +Antibes on her shoes, stood looking from one to the other +with questioning eyes. +</p> + +<p> +It was to Nevil she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you planned the plan? Is it real and true?" +</p> + +<p> +"As real and true and delightful as you are, little wife!" +he answered, smiling; and in the quaint young fashion +that he loved, she clapped her small hands lightly, without +sound. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman stayed three days longer; and the pain of +parting was alleviated by visions of "the plan." On the +Sunday that followed, Nevil asked a question that surprised +his wife. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani, would you mind much if I deserted you this +morning, and went to church?" +</p> + +<p> +"To church?" She could only regard him in open-eyed +amazement; and he smiled, a queer, half-sad smile, unusual +with him. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, darling? Did you think your Christian husband +was a rank unbeliever?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Nevil! Please not say such things. But—I +could not help from wondering—did you ever——" +</p> + +<p> +The words would not come; and he, slipping an arm +round her, gently kissed her cheek. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear little saint! I did—and I do," he assured her +none too lucidly: yet she understood. "The trouble with +our religion nowadays is that, being a live thing, it is +growing and changing its form like all other live things: +breaking through husks, throwing out new leaves. But the +Church says: No. The one ancient form must be kept +sacred from all change, like an embalmed mummy. And in +consequence, many thinking Christians have little use for +Church, however honestly they believe in the things that +matter. You understand?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do," she answered thoughtfully. "Same with us. It +is always so with priests. Nevil—I would like to +hear more." +</p> + +<p> +"That you shall. Another time. It would need a long +talk and rather a deep one, if I'm to make things clear. +But you mustn't doubt my belief in the Great Unseen; and +now will you spare me to go and worship Him in my own +fashion?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I am so pleased——" She spoke without looking +up; and there fell a pause. +</p> + +<p> +"Well—what more?" he asked, regarding her with a +quizzical tenderness. +</p> + +<p> +"Only ... I am shy to ask ... is it quite beyond +Possible ... that I come also?" +</p> + +<p> +"You? My dear little wife! Will you?" +</p> + +<p> +"If—if it would not make shock to the Christian +Peoples?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think the Christian peoples might survive it!" he +answered, kissing her again. "There won't be half a dozen +at this time of year." +</p> + +<p> +"And I can hide all Hindu-ness with my cloak and hood. +Oh, Nevil—I hardly believe! I never thought——" +</p> + +<p> +"No more did I!" He pushed her gently toward the +door. "Hurry up, little woman. We've none too much +time." +</p> + +<p> +So Sir Nevil and Lady Sinclair rowed across to the little +English Church at Cadenabbia; and if the Christian peoples +were pricked to undue curiosity by the veiled and hooded, +figure in a pew near the door, the subject of their scrutiny +was lifted beyond all consciousness of the fact. To-day the +presence of others troubled her not at all. For to-day, by +her husband's wish, she was privileged to worship, with him, +that Great One, that "Brilliance at the core of Brilliance," +whose diverse names and forms are but the manifold +garments of His revealing. +</p> + +<p> +The handful of "Christian peoples," hypnotized by ceaseless +repetition, found the service, with its scanty music and +unimpressive sermon, a rather lifeless affair. But to one +privileged "heathen" it seemed a thing of beauty and awe. +The church itself, plain and unpretentious, like most of its +kind abroad—had yet its pervasive atmosphere of sanctuary, +above all in the region of the altar—shrine, she named +it—where the white-robed figure, tall candlesticks and +sober embroideries were glorified by sun-rays streaming +through stained glass. +</p> + +<p> +As for the simple hymns and chants—it was her first +hearing of organ music, and the deep-toned reverberations +set all her sensitive nerves a-thrill. The hidden magician—bald +and spectacled—chose for voluntary a stately Largo +by Beethoven; and Lilamani's hand, slipping into her husband's, +kept him seated till the last note shuddered through +the empty church. +</p> + +<p> +Then they went forth into the blaze of noon, and rowed +homeward, too deeply and diversely stirred for common +speech. Only once he intercepted her brooding gaze and +asked, smiling: +</p> + +<p> +"Well, does our fashion of worship please you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. It is more simple—more solemn than ours. It +speaks to the soul." +</p> + +<p> +Her husband's smile had a touch of envy. He had not +found it so. +</p> + +<p> +"Some day I will take you to a really great service in our +Abbey," he said; and the promise wafted her on a +dream-journey that only ended when the keel touched ground. +</p> + +<p> +A small event; yet of no small significance in an experiment +more vital and far-reaching than they two, in their +charmed seclusion, had quite recognized as yet. That first +church-going led to others, at intervals; led also to more +intimate talk of the "big-little things"; a strengthening of +links for the long after-strain of marriage. +</p> + +<p> +For the rest, throughout the blazing stillness of July and +August, they dwelt in an atmosphere of ordered peace, as +needful to artistic achievement as emotion and experience +to artistic conception. And it was just this absorption in +a subject quite outside themselves that saved them from +those lavish overdrafts on the emotions that are the peculiar +danger of honeymoon conditions indefinitely prolonged. +They talked Ramayāna, read Ramayāna, and lived +Ramayāna, without fear that either could weary of the obsession. +Sir Lakshman's treasures from India supplied fresh fuel +for the divine fire, that burned clearer and stronger as the +bold pictures came to life under Nevil's hand. +Martino—vindictively jealous of all who trespassed on his sacred sea +and sky—could rejoice whole-heartedly in the growing +vigour and beauty of his friend's work. His monologues +became more volcanic; his prophecies more extravagant. He +spent more time in Nevil's studio than in his own; now and +again bringing a brother artist to confirm his verdict, lest +it seem mere partiality to the man who felt himself in the +grip of a power greater than he knew. +</p> + +<p> +Outside the pictures, worked at day by day and dreamed +of at night, their only events were constant letters from +Sir Lakshman and rarer ones from the house of Sinclair. +Christina, zealous to atone for Jane, wrote in genuine +sisterly fashion to her "dearest Lilamani," regretting that she +must be back in Germany by October, not to return again +for good till early spring. And Jane wrote also; kindly—yet +with a difference, which "the Hindu child" was not +considered capable of detecting. But she did. She +discovered, also, that, while she had supposed herself to be +obeying Nevil in regard to that first letter, it had in truth so +tinctured all her thoughts of Lady Roscoe, that mere sight +of the square handwriting awakened a fierce antagonism, +personal and racial, that boded ill for the days to come. +Between the formal phrases of welcome her quick spirit +caught flashes of the two-edged sword. Yet, for Nevil's +sake, she must seem convinced; must even devise an answer, +not too carefully studied, lest he suspect. What the +writing of it cost her, he never knew. Nor did he know how, +when it was written, she tore Jane's compulsory welcome +across and across; then burned the pieces one by one in her +brick oven, holding them in her dwarf tongs; watching +them curl and blaze with a gleam of primitive hate in her +eyes that her husband must never see. Could he have seen +it, he might have thought twice about taking his wife home +at all. +</p> + +<p> +As it was, Lilamani's answer pleased him; and the ardour +of work—that, for the moment, eclipsed all else—flowed +over the incident, as the rising tide over a rock that will rear +its head anew in the time of shallows. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0209"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IX +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Naught is done that has not seeds in it."<br> + MORLEY ROBERTS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +For both husband and wife, as for Sir Lakshman, +September arrived too soon. Not even the lure of Egypt +could make Lilamani other than loath to leave a corner of +earth saturate with memories, sacred and imperishable as +her love itself: and to Nevil, as the time drew near, there +returned that faint prick of apprehension for which he +hated himself the more because he could not disregard it +altogether. But Lilamani on the sea was a revelation +enchanting enough to banish all forebodings for a time; and +present content was deepened by the knowledge that—conceit +apart—he had achieved a remarkable summer's +work. +</p> + +<p> +In the seven weeks following on his return, three more +pictures had been added to Sita in the hut: her first pleading +with Rāma—that, as a portrait of Lilamani, excelled +his study at Antibes; the setting forth of the three; and the +abduction of Sita by Ravān. The completion of each had +bred a larger confidence, a deeper understanding of the +great subject chosen and inspired by his wife: while into +the fourth he had infused a strange mingling of beauty +and terror that at once amazed him and fired his ambition +to bolder flights. A fifth picture, even, had been started: +Sita, broken with grief, in the garden of Asoka, while +she-fiends, on guard among the high enclosing bushes, leered +at her through the dusk; their hideous shapes, half human, +half bestial, grimly suggested rather than seen. They had +given Lilamani nightmares; and her self-identification with +Sita had so wrought upon her nerves, that she was not sorry +to escape from the haunting nearness of Ravān and his +myrmidons, for a time. +</p> + +<p> +With Nevil it was otherwise. To tear himself from easel +and canvas and the idea that dominated him was a greater +wrench than he would have credited six months ago. But, +in this crowning summer of his life, a very rage of work +possessed him; a spontaneous flow of inspiration, not to be +denied. It was as if all the thwarted and dammed up +energies of those priceless years between twenty and thirty, +having at last found their natural outlet, would give him +no rest till they had atoned, in some measure, for +achievement stultified and opportunities lost. +</p> + +<p> +Happily for Lilamani, she herself was the mainspring of +her husband's inspiration; while her absorption in his +subject and her Eastern capacity for long spells of stillness +made her an invaluable asset to his actual work. And afar, +on the horizon of his golden present, the promise of the +future glowed like a lamp. In Egypt he looked to imbibe large +draughts of the colourful East; not in the self-conscious, +notebook-and-pencil fashion of the journalist, but with all +his creative fervour in abeyance, that the receptive +faculties might have full play. Then, returning by Brindisi, +they would spend a last fortnight in their land of enchantment +before putting the Great Experiment to its ultimate +test. +</p> + +<p> +It had already been arranged that "Dreaming" should +make its appearance in the Goupil Gallery at an autumn +exhibition of English painters; and Martino looked that +this picture alone should bring Sinclair's name into notice +among the elect; thus preparing the way for his bold +design of showing the Sita series independently when +complete. Pamphlets, giving a brief outline of the Epic, should +be supplied to all-comers, with a special description of each +chosen scene; and Martino himself would brave the +unspeakable English climate that he might have the pride +and pleasure of inaugurating the Unique Event! Even +Leseppes, prince of egoists, had shown keen interest in the +new venture and promised a flying visit to Cadenabbia +before Sinclair left. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +With such stimulating visions and a radiant Lilamani for +company, Nevil paid small heed to the whisper of +apprehension during the brief voyage from Brindisi to Cairo; +and through the first few days of varied and leisurely +sightseeing, he strove loyally to convince himself that all was +well. But upon the fourth day conviction went to pieces. +Too late he recognized the wisdom of his instinctive recoil +from Sir Lakshman's plan. +</p> + +<p> +Hitherto he had seen the East through Lilamani's eyes, +veiled and glorified by her idealism. Now he saw it in the +fierce unsparing glare of its own sunlight; saw, too, how +potently it drew and held the woman who had renounced +it for love of him. True, it was not India; and the +familiar-looking folk in street and desert spoke an unknown +tongue. But the East, Near or Far, has its own indefinable +atmosphere; and to Nevil Sinclair it was obvious that +Lilamani drank it in as though it were the breath of life. An +under-current of suppressed excitement vibrated in her low +voice, and glowed fitfully in the brooding softness of her +eyes. Acute consciousness of it pricked her husband to a +not unreasoning jealousy, and even checked in a measure +his own ardour of enjoyment. +</p> + +<p> +On the fourth day, in question, he found her standing at +the window of Sir Lakshman's private sitting-room, so +absorbed in the street scene below that his entrance passed +unheeded. He was almost at her elbow when she turned +with a startled sound; and though her lips smiled a greeting, +he saw the gleam of tears in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it, dear?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Not anything," she replied mendaciously, for she missed +the note of sympathy in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +The touch of her fingers on his coat sleeve elicited no +response; and, after a second's hesitation, he said: "I'd +sooner have the truth, Lilamani. You're not like yourself +since you came. It excites you, upsets you, all this: +perhaps—makes you regret——?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Nevil! Could you think such a thing?" Her +fingers closed sharply on his arm. "Only—how can I +help?—if it aches me sometimes, with reminding of my +own country, my own peoples. Even though I cannot +know their language; still, by their colour and movement—even +by smell of shops and streets—all is speaking to me in +the language of my heart. Have I made you understand?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—yes. It's only natural. So long as it doesn't +spoil your pleasure, I am content." +</p> + +<p> +But although he patted the hand that held him, his tone +belied his words, and he spoke looking down into the street, +with its flow of noisy, leisurely life, its blinding patches of +light and clear-cut, blue-black shadows. +</p> + +<p> +A puzzled distress and the nearness of tears kept her +silent; and he, with a muttered plea of letters to write, +went out, leaving her a shade more puzzled, more distressed. +</p> + +<p> +What was wrong? What was the nameless shadow that +had come between them, dimming the radiance of her +perfect week? For the past two days she had been vaguely +aware of it; and now—his words, his manner, so unlike +himself. +</p> + +<p> +She brushed away the disturbing thought as if it were +a fly that buzzed at her ear. But even as the fly returns, +after futile circling, so the feeling came back, whenever +some spontaneous outburst on her part forced Nevil to a +show of response. Months of the real thing made her +fatally quick to detect the counterfeit; and it saddened her +beyond speech. +</p> + +<p> +On the next night, when Sir Lakshman offered them +another week at the hotel after he left, Sinclair would not +see the eager pleading in his wife's face, while he thanked +his father-in-law, and urged the need of finishing the +picture on hand before going home in October. Yet after all, +touched by her loyal seconding of his refusal, he stayed on +three days—and regretted it. There were moments of +unreasoning, yet invincible revulsion, when he could scarcely +endure the sight of those other Eastern women who, in a +dozen trifling ways, so subtly reminded him of his wife; +robbing her, thus, of the unique quality that was for him +an essential part of her charm. True, in happier intervals, +he had absorbed much and observed much that was invaluable +to an artist who aspired to interpret the East: but it +was with a sense of undiluted relief that he trod the deck +of their homeward-bound steamer and felt the hidden heart +of it throb beneath his feet. +</p> + +<p> +Not so Lilamani. Standing alone at the taffrail, while +her husband interviewed the head-steward, she drank in every +detail of the fast-retreating coast line, as if by intensity +of looking she would stamp it for ever on her brain—that +fervent and colourful East which spoke to her so feelingly +in the language of her heart. No denying that this +brief return to the atmosphere of her girlhood and the +subsequent parting with her father had brought home to her +the completeness of her own severance as nothing else could +have done; had stirred afresh the ache of longing drugged, +of late, by happiness almost beyond belief. +</p> + +<p> +Yet did she not forget the price of return; the impasse +from which her husband's love had so miraculously saved +her: and even had it not been thus, regret were unthinkable. +To belong body and soul to Nevil was, without question, +the best fate that could befall a woman. Only, at +this moment of parting, a perplexing conflict of emotions +so perturbed her that when, at length, her husband came to +her side, she could not turn and greet him because of chill +tears that crept down her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Nevil saw them, and for the first time they moved him to +irritation rather than pity. His tone betrayed him. +</p> + +<p> +"Crying again, Lilamani? Wishing you could have gone +on with your father, I suppose, instead of having to come +back with me?" +</p> + +<p> +She winced and bit her lip. "Unkind to speak so," she +murmured without looking round. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry. But you provoke it. You seem so heartbroken——" +</p> + +<p> +"Not that. Only—a little sad. How can I help?"—then +controlling herself, she looked up at him, smiling +mistily. "But it is foolishness. And surely—we shall come +again?" +</p> + +<p> +He frowned. "I don't know. There won't be much +surplus money for pleasure trips just at present. I've a +big place to keep up, you see, and precious little to keep it +on." +</p> + +<p> +"How pity," she said softly, not quite following the drift +of his last remark. +</p> + +<p> +Again the vanishing coast line absorbed her; and he, still +frowning, regarded her delicate profile in a speculative +silence. Then he turned abruptly away; and strolling down +the deck, soon fell into talk with the first officer. +</p> + +<p> +Left alone again, the tears fell faster; till, in shame at +her own weakness, and fearful of discovery, though dusk +had fallen, she stumbled blindly down to their cabin—alone. +In crossing the hatchway, she caught sight of Nevil +and his companion pacing the deck. He saw her go. She +knew it. But the minutes passed and he did not come. +He was content to walk and talk with a stranger, while she +lay crying softly in the half-dark; not only because the East +was slipping farther from her with every throb of the +ship's pulses, but because the radiance of her wonderful ten +days had been dimmed by a shadow whose substance she +could not divine. +</p> + +<p> +So deeply and entirely had they lived hitherto in the +world of imagination and emotion, wherein their unity was +complete, that she scarce recognized, as yet, the possibility +of serious divergence. She only knew that for near a week +they had been living in a tangle of cross purposes which she +was powerless to unravel; that now, for the first time, her +tears had moved him to vexation, and he had left her to find +her way about this strange ship alone: events of no mean +significance in the early stage of marriage. But why? +What harm had she done to cause this break in his unfailing +tenderness; this first real sense of apartness from him who +was more than ever her all, since India had claimed her +father? Only one answer suggested itself. Always, at such +moments, that unforgetable sentence in Jane's letter would +prick softly, like a thorn left under the skin, reminding +her—"I am here." +</p> + +<p> +By the time he came into the cabin, tears had ceased; and +bending down he kissed her flushed cheek; then, without a +word, passed a soothing hand over her hair. She caught +the hand and pressed it passionately to her lips. So, once +again, comfort was restored—for the moment. Yet +still—she did not understand: and therein lay the seeds of +tragedy. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Egypt once out of sight things readjusted themselves +insensibly, though the effect produced on Nevil could not be +lightly shaken off. There was no more jarring irritability. +But there were times when his wife was still aware of that +intangible barrier; times when he was so absent and distrait +that she felt as if the real Nevil had slipped miles away +from her and only the shell of him lay beside her in the long +deck-chair. Once, when she ventured on comment, he had +frowned as if interrupted in a train of thought, and +answered that between digesting new impressions and heavy +responsibilities ahead, he had a good deal on his mind just +then: which was true, though not the whole truth, as she +was quick to divine. +</p> + +<p> +Thenceforward she kept silence. But her thoughts were +less easily bridled than speech, and during that short return +voyage, she found herself too often at their mercy. On most +nights Nevil would take her down to the cabin, and there +leave her, while he himself returned to pace the deck in +troubled meditation; faintly, indefinably alienated by a +nameless something too elusive for definition; hating himself +heartily; yet temporarily at the mercy of his mood. More +than ever was he thankful for the few weeks of seclusion +in store for them at Cadenabbia. Both being hypersensitive +to the spirit of place, and of association, he relied +confidently on these to restore that completeness of harmony, +of fusion, without which he scarce dared contemplate the +last great test of England and Bramleigh Beeches. +</p> + +<p> +In this reliance they were unconsciously at one. Through +the long hours when she was supposed to be asleep, Lilamani +lay listening, instead, to the rhythmical swish-swish under +her port-hole and the heart-throbs of the ship that bore +her, minute by minute, nearer to the familiar peace of their +sanctuary. There at least she had reigned supreme; there +she had been essential both to his life and work; the woman's +incurable need. There, surely, this shadow of division, of +disappointment, would pass. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, it was disappointment; that she had decided; having +arrived at her own solution of the problem in those wakeful +hours; a solution characteristic of her race. Six months a +wife and yet no promise of that other—the supreme gift, +that should crown her first one, the finding of himself. For +the Eastern woman, marriage means motherhood, or an +abiding sense of failure: and the least delay in the fulfilment of +her divine mission breeds a lurking anxiety lest the worst +befall. Already it knocked softly at the door of Lilamani's +heart, and that it should visit her husband also seemed to +her the most natural thing imaginable. He too had hoped. +He too was disappointed. And although his tender +consideration forbade speech he could not hide it altogether +from one who loved and understood. +</p> + +<p> +Thus she wove around his perplexing mood her primitive-womanly +myth that was leagues removed from the truth; +and longed only for courage to broach the subject, that +pain might be lessened by sharing. But the mere imagining +wrought her to such agony of shyness that she knew speech +could not be between them—as yet. She could only wait—and +pray. In the meantime she hoped great things from +the spirit of peace that dwelt in their balcony, their little +white boat, and their garden of dreams. Absorbed once +more in their joint enterprise, the evil demons of vexation +and disappointment must be driven out—if only for a time. +</p> + +<p> +And it was so. The spirit of place and the very real love +Nevil Sinclair had for his wife achieved their perfect work. +The mood of aloofness vanished as though it had never +been; and again, as after the lesser interruption of Jane's +letter, the ardour of work flowed on over the incident, +blotting it almost out of memory. +</p> + +<p> +Leseppes' promised visit proved a foretaste of triumphs +to come. He applauded Martino's verdict; insisted upon +hearing long extracts from the Ramayāna; and covered +Lilamani with confusion by advertising his admiration with a +frankness of gaze that in her view amounted to insolence. +For himself, he enjoyed her embarrassment. It added a +provocative quality to her beauty; and to stare a pretty +woman into a crimson silence was a delectable amusement +that never palled. But of this by-play his host was +unaware. He took good care of that, and Lilamani was too +shy to speak. +</p> + +<p> +For Nevil, in truth, the artist eclipsed the man. For him +Leseppes the prince of egoists, the reputed libertine, was +submerged in Leseppes the inimitable colourist, the godfather +of his own lesser gift; and the great man's words at +parting exalted him as the praise of no other living painter +could have done. +</p> + +<p> +"I tell you this, <i>mon ami</i>, and I speak from wide +knowledge," said he, wringing the younger man's hand in the +effusive fashion of his race—"those pictures of yours are +unique, of their kind. They have the colour and sensuousness, +the emotion and idealism of the East. <i>Mon Dieu</i>! +They shall stir the blood even of those colossal Philistines, +your own countrymen! I shall be over with Martino when +your exhibition opens." +</p> + +<p> +It was a very elated husband and wife that drank "Success +to Sita" at dinner that evening. +</p> + +<p> +"And it's all your doing—yours, my own little Sita +Devi," he assured her, silencing her protest, as it deserved. +"We'll block out the Hanuman scene to-morrow. I wish to +God we could stay on here till the whole thing was done!" +</p> + +<p> +How passionately Lilamani echoed that wish she dared +not confess. Yet a flicker of hope gleamed in her eyes as +she asked: "If you are so much wishing, Nevil—could it +not be?" +</p> + +<p> +"'Fraid not. Don't tempt me, sweetheart. Jane would +have a fit; and there's a deal that needs my personal +supervision. No joke playing the double rôle of artist and +impoverished landowner. But after all its high time we started +our real life together in our real home. I've picked a +capital room in the East Tower for the studio; and we'll +have one blessed fortnight all to ourselves before the new +Lady Sinclair takes the family by storm!" +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani shook her head, smiling uncertainly. "Lady +Sinclair is afraid——" +</p> + +<p> +"Afraid? Nonsense! She is going to be an unqualified +success all round!" +</p> + +<p> +His serene optimism stilled her qualms—for the moment +at least. The date of their departure was fixed; and on a +golden afternoon of October the little white boat set out +for the last time. Lilamani, crouched in the stern, elbows +planted on the cushioned seat, watched their chalet recede +and dwindle till all outlines were blurred, and in spite of +herself a muffled sob betrayed her "foolishness." This time +it did not move Nevil to irritation. Balancing his sculls +he leaned forward and caressed her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Why break your heart over the good days gone, +beloved?" he reproved her gently. "There are plenty more +ahead; and we'll come back here again, I promise +you." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—yes; we must come back," she murmured, choking +down her tears. But young as she was, already she +began to perceive that the scheme of life does not admit of +"coming back." It is an eternal, inexorable passing on. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +END OF BOOK II +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0301"></a></p> + +<h2> +BOOK III +<br> +THE FRUIT +</h2> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER I +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> +"Whom does love concern beyond the beloved and the lover? +Yet its impact deluges a thousand shores."—E. M. FORSTER. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Lilamani! You're a moonbeam incarnate! I +don't wonder Nevil went crazy over you; and if +the rest don't follow suit—in their sober Sinclair +fashion—I shall disinherit them forthwith!" +</p> + +<p> +Thus Christina, appraising her sister-in-law with Nevil's +own smile in her eyes. It was evening; and the new Lady +Sinclair stood before her cheval glass at Bramleigh Beeches +arrayed for the supreme ordeal of her marriage: a +dinner-party of fourteen, all members of the clan, save two. +</p> + +<p> +A special dress lately arrived from India had been set +aside for the critical occasion; and the pale golden sheen +of it in the light of two tall candles justified Christina's +simile. Unable to mourn for her husband's father in +"English fashion," she could only forswear the least touch of +colour, to the secret regret of Neville the artist; though +Nevil the man loved her the more. He had explained +regretfully that gold was not mourning; and she that Hindu +women wear silver only on the feet; with the result that +they had compromised in borders and embroideries of palest +gold like the new-risen moon. To-night, the shimmery +under-dress was shot with it; and through the filmy <i>sari</i> +ran a network of gleaming threads, that, more closely woven, +formed the narrow border. Only the vermilion caste-mark +glowed, as always, between her brows. For jewellery—her +father's star, Nevil's pendant, and his last flagrant +extravagance, a bracelet-watch set in diamonds. +</p> + +<p> +No beautiful girl so arrayed, and blessed with a wholesome +share of vanity, could feel other than elate; and gratified +by Christina's frank approval, she answered softly with +her veiled blush: +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be getting too much spoilt—if all were like +you——" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but they're <i>not</i> like me, poor dears!" Christina's +equally frank commiseration was far removed from conceit. +"And none of them recognize their misfortune! Still—Jane +isn't half bad really; straight and strong-minded and +as common-sensible as a chest of drawers. She's fond of +Nevil too—in her queer way; and probably wants to be +fond of you. But the door of her heart is a bit rusty on +its hinges. No doubt she'll just shake hands, and ask how +you like Bramleigh; while, if she had half an ounce of real +mother-feeling in her—which she hasn't in spite of two +plain children—she would take you in her arms and kiss +you straight away." +</p> + +<p> +A faint involuntary change came over Lilamani's face. +</p> + +<p> +"That I should not like at all. Though relation by +marriage, I am quite stranger—with Lady Roscoe." +</p> + +<p> +"Lady Roscoe! My dear, you <i>must</i> call her Jane. You +call me Christina." +</p> + +<p> +"But how different! Through many letters we became +like sisters before meeting; and for me, you could never +be stranger. You are too like—like Nevil in a girl." +</p> + +<p> +Even now, racial instinct made her shy of "taking her +lord's name" before others; custom impermissible for wife +or husband among her own people, as Christina had come +to know. +</p> + +<p> +"Does that make you love me very much, little +Moonbeam?" she asked, slipping an arm round the slender +shoulders; and for an answer two warm lips pressed her +cheek. "It was awfully good of Nevil to give me this +quiet time alone with you two before the influx of the clan," +she went on, well content. "And I half wish I could put +off going back to Germany. But now I must fly and dress. +Are you going down? Or will you wait here for your 'lord?'" +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani did not miss the gleam of amusement in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you make fun for that?" she asked simply. +"Does my husband-worship seem to all English +peoples—foolishness?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know about all English peoples! To me it +seems rather beautiful. Rather enviable. And I'm quite +sure Nevil's in luck to have picked up a wife who believes +in that kind of foolishness. At the rate we're going, they'll +soon be as extinct as the dodo." +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani puckered her brows. "Extinct—gone out, is +it? How pity? But who is the dodo?" +</p> + +<p> +Christina laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"I give it up! Ask Nevil, you angelic little anachronism. +Now go down and knock the bottom out of my noble +sister's condescension; and <i>don't</i> forget to call her 'Jane'!" +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani's answering smile did not imply acquiescence. +But Christina was gone; and soon—far too soon—Nevil +would come to take her downstairs. There she would meet +face to face the woman whose poisoned shafts of speech still +pricked her heart. Knowing all, she must yet appear +unknowing. She must endure the touch of hands; the +meeting of eyes; but the touch of lips—never! For beneath +her surface gentleness throbbed the passionate, unforgiving +heart of a soldier race, strong to smite, swift to revenge. +</p> + +<p> +With a last lingering glance at her own reflection, she +smiled, sighed, and sank into a chintz-covered arm-chair, +heartily wishing the evening well over. And not this one +evening alone; but the next few days, which she must learn +to call "week-end." It was her first dinner-party; and +the mere crowd of strangers dismayed her, apart from the +fact that all were her husband's relations and friends; +curious, interested, or disapproving, even as those who had +come in carriages to "inspect her" and deposit bits of +pasteboard on the hall table. +</p> + +<p> +Nevil had prepared her to the best of his ability; had +sketched them all for her, with touches of not unkindly +humour; and had much to tell her of two artist friends, +Miss de Winton and Frank Norris, who would come on the +Saturday, and were eager to see the pictures destined to +establish the impression already made by "Dreaming," at +the Goupil Gallery. Jane alone, Nevil had left to his wife's +imagination; merely remarking that she was a "good woman +under chain-mail," and that Lilamani must make allowances, +for his sake. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +And now—the time was at hand. The "blessed fortnight" +all to themselves had melted like snow in a thaw. +Even then, they had only been nominally alone; and she had +found it hard to hide from Nevil how the great rambling +house and its retinue of servants oppressed her. Mrs. Lunn, +Queen-Regent of the household—grown portly and domineering +in the service of her widowed master—filled Lilamani +with awe unspeakable. Her scrupulously respectful +bearing was tinctured with too perceptible a pinch of +condescension toward this "heathen chit of a child, from +goodness-knows-where," whom she, Sarah Lunn, was called +upon to serve. +</p> + +<p> +"Enough to make poor dear old master turn in 'is grave; +<i>that</i> it is!" she confided to Barnes over their nightly glass of +wine in her sanctum. "If it wasn't but what I firmly believe +he'd <i>feel</i> it, even where he is, I'd 'a' given notice the +first day I set eyes on her." +</p> + +<p> +Barnes nodded in sympathetic comprehension. The discovery +that his astuteness was superfluous had put a severe +strain on his own loyalty. +</p> + +<p> +"That's your magananimus sense o' duty all over, +Mrs. Lunn! An' Sir Nevil he may be thankful. Without you +the old place 'ud fall to racking ruin." He sipped +meditatively and shook his head. "It's bin a quare business all +along. At first I thought——" No. His thoughts on +the subject would scarce bear retailing to the Queen-Regent +of all the proprieties. "Well—I <i>had</i> me qualms. Who +wouldn't? But I own I <i>did</i> give Sir Nevil credit for more +good sense than this 'ere fiasker amounts to." +</p> + +<p> +"Good sense, Mr. Barnes?" Mrs. Lunn's sniff expressed +the quintessence of contempt. "You, with your +experience, didn't ought to be looking for good sense from +a master that wastes his time messin' about with dirty +paints, instead of tramping or riding round the old Place +natural-like, with the dogs at his heels; a master that can't +even use 'is droring-room after dinner like a gentleman; 'e's +so set on them heathen pictures of his, and that musked-up +room in the Tower." +</p> + +<p> +It was true. The great drawing-room still languished, +empty and desolate, while the misguided pair spent their +evenings in the studio, with its friendly litter of books and +painting gear; its memory-provoking atmosphere of cigarette +smoke and attar of roses. For the artist in Nevil Sinclair, +having survived the barren years of discouragement, could +challenge even the sacred obligations of heritage. It would +not suffer the real man to be entirely overridden by the thing +possessed. +</p> + +<p> +As for Lilamani, that sacred hour or two of isolation in +the Tower room had come to be the crowning-point of her +day; a light toward which she moved, with a deep and +conscious yearning that pervaded her every thought, her every +act. For she of the East lives in and through the one +supreme emotion with a singleness of soul scarce credible to +the many-faceted woman of the West: and despite Mrs. Lunn's +lamentations, "the old Place" inevitably absorbed +more of Nevil's time and attention than seemed good to a +young wife little used to rival interests that took him from +her side. For Nevil Sinclair, temperament or no, was at +core an Englishman true to his breed, as Lilamani to her +own. Yet withal, they must contrive to be true to each +other. There lay the pith of their problem. +</p> + +<p> +There were mornings spent in the saddle with +Thornbrook—land-agent and confidential adviser; tramps through +the beech-wood with Mills, the gamekeeper; a visit from +Reynolds; a call from a bachelor landowner, who must be +asked to lunch, and whose talk of bags, coverts, and meets +was pure gibberish to the "ripping little beauty," who sat +with lids downcast, praying for his departure. Worse than +all—just when she had secured Nevil to herself—were +the superfluous strangers—who "came only to look what +queer kind of creature Indian bride might be." This +conviction—which at once hurt her sensitiveness and fired +her pride of race—was proof against Nevil's most tactful +denials. At this time he discovered in her a fund of quiet, +unreasoning obstinacy, unsuspected hitherto; and great was +her joy when, in pity, he revealed how she could frustrate +"those needless ones" by the magic formula "Not at +Home." Thereafter she was insatiable—when he would +permit; and her childish joy in pronouncing the shibboleth +made refusal seem sheer brutality. +</p> + +<p> +Only one thing had failed them entirely: the one thing +most like to fail home-comers in an English autumn. +</p> + +<p> +In place of Italy's passionate, unfathomable blue, a +shifting greyness hung low over the tree-tops; a reservoir, it +seemed, for all the tears of all the earth. Most often +Lilamani's great event, the coming of the sun, could only be +known by a stealthy, half-hearted change from grey to a +whitish pallor, through which, as daylight grew, a moon-like +disc peered, ghost-like; his passing, by a gleam in the +west, as it were a lifting of tired lids flushed a little with +weeping. Then the slow onset of dark; renewed patter of +raindrops; the unresting murmur of wind-swayed trees. +Nevil Sinclair—sun-lover though he was—could not know +that for Lilamani these changed conditions meant no mere +deprivation of light and heat, but temporary eclipse of the +reigning gods of her Pantheon. Instinctively her +excommunicate soul had slipped back into the primal +nature-worship of Vedantic times; satisfying thus her racial +instinct for religion, and the deeper human need of worshipping, +through the medium of the seen, that "Great Unfading, +who unseen sees, unheard hears, unthought thinks, +uncomprehended comprehends." +</p> + +<p> +And now behold temple and gods alike obliterate! Only +for a time, she hoped; yet this fresh deprivation added not a +little to the difficulty and strangeness of the new phase of +wifehood she was called upon to fulfil. She said little to +Nevil; lest she seem to disparage the cradle of his birth. +Only upon the fourth day of weeping skies and whirling +leaves she had asked half in joke: "Do sun and moon nearly +always keep purdah in your England?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, of course not!" said he, and the sympathetic +note in his voice assured her that he had not taken the +question amiss. "Wait till the autumn gales are over. Then +you'll see!" +</p> + +<p> +And the very next day, as if in ratification, behold the +sun-god, smiling genially, in a clear sky, flaked with drifting +cloud. She must come for a walk, Nevil decreed, through +the beech-wood and up on to the moor. It was sodden +underfoot; and Lilamani, who had never worn boots in her +life, was chary as a cat about wetting her silver-shod feet. +But Nevil—not to be gainsaid—assured her that walking +in the wet was an accomplishment all who aspired to live +in England must learn forthwith. A pair of Christina's +goloshes had been unearthed; and for near two hours they +had tramped, like a pair of happy children, through the +dominion over which they were king and queen. Through +the stately beech-wood, already on fire with burnt sienna +and gold, with here and there the bronze gleam of a +pheasant among the leaves: then out on to the open moor, where +the October sun had awakened a host of midges, that danced +like winged motes in his beams; and, from tip to tip of the +mummied heath-bells, undiscouraged spiders had woven their +gossamer snares, that swayed and lifted, changefully +iridescent, in the afternoon light. +</p> + +<p> +Standing silent and entranced, with the sun in her eyes, +the mother-longing had stirred in the young wife afresh; +conjuring up visions of a day when children's voices—her sons +and his—should fill moor and wood with the divinest +music on earth. And he? Did he also dream and hope? +She stole a shy glance at him. But his thoughts had gone +off on a journey of their own; and he did not see. +</p> + +<p> +When at length his eyes sought hers, the transfigured +light in them thrilled him strangely. But no word was +said. +</p> + +<p> +Returning, he had slipped an arm round her, secure in +their vast privacy; and they had walked home like lovers, +oblivious of everything in earth and heaven save themselves. +Then, all too soon, the house closed over them; the house +with its mute reminder of responsibilities, "needless ones," +the minor tyrannies of possession—changing them into Sir +Nevil and Lady Sinclair once more. +</p> + +<p> +On the second clear day he drove with her to return the +visit of a "needless one" who plagued her with the two +reiterate, unanswerable questions that seemed a part of this +particular ritual: What did she think of England, and how +did she like Bramleigh? Then on to tea with Helen +Despard, in the rambling black and white oak-panelled +bungalow, that Lilamani loved at sight, like its mistress, +and secretly preferred to the spacious desolation of her own +ancestral home. There was endlessly much to be said, when +the men left them alone: but alas, the adopted mother, on +whose sympathy and help Lilamani had reckoned, would +not be long at hand. The Despards rarely spent a winter in +England; and, like Christina, they would not be back till +early spring. In this double deprivation, Lilamani saw the +malice of her outraged gods. Yet how propitiate them +without offering or penance? For her the problem was a +serious one, beyond her power to solve. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Thus, between work and play, between driven clouds +and fitful sunshine, their fortnight had evaporated. In spite +of interruptions, the Token scene had progressed near to +completion; and no longer, in Nevil's opinion, could the +crucial "week-end" party be postponed. +</p> + +<p> +On Wednesday had come Christina—true spirit-sister, +flower of purely Western culture though she was. This +afternoon had brought Sir Robert and his wife, with "Aunt +Julia," who had kissed her, a little nervously, and called her +dear child, but had failed to set her at her ease. Then, +before the arrival of the later train—bringing George and +"Phil," the Roscoes and Broome—she had pleaded headache +and fled to the solitude of her shrine, above the studio, +arranged exactly as in Italy. +</p> + +<p> +Here, in one of her Yoga moods of receptive quiet, she +had striven to still the flutter of anxiety, lest in word or +bearing she should not satisfy her lord and those he loved: +excepting only "That Terrible," whose secret antagonism, +she felt convinced, would equal her own. Nevil, divining +her need, had not only refrained from seeking her out; but +had checked Christina's mistaken impulse of sisterly kindness. +</p> + +<p> +So, for an hour or more, there had been respite; the +indefinable refreshment of solitude and silence, and, by a +merciful oversight of the gods—a blazing sunset that fired +all the west. Slipping a shawl round her shoulders, she +had flung the window wide, and sat there in a carven +stillness, till eyes and brain and spirit were saturate with the +molten brilliance; till all sense of self was lost in that +miracle of fusion which only intense gazers know; till living +light faded to a dull orange-crimson that glowed beneath +the curtain of cloud like the heart of a forge seen through +an open door. +</p> + +<p> +Even now, so long after, the ethereal fire seemed to glow +in her veins. But imagination makes cowards of the +bravest—before action; and detachment was hard to maintain +when Nevil's footstep was at her very door. +</p> + +<p> +She rose as he entered and stood before him; breath +suspended, eyes veiled. He had not been allowed to see the +dress till now; and he stood a moment, appraising her with +a long look, felt even through her sheltering lids. Then he +came quickly forward, took her in his arms and kissed her +with a lover's fervour on lips and eyes and brow. +</p> + +<p> +"You are satisfied with your Lilamani?" she whispered, +craving, woman-like, the full meed of praise. +</p> + +<p> +"More than satisfied. She is inimitable. Come." +</p> + +<p> +Laughingly, he offered her his arm, and led her thus down +the broad shallow staircase. +</p> + +<p> +Just outside the drawing-room door he felt her hand +tremble, and pressed it against his side. "Be a plucky little +wife, for my sake," he pleaded; and they went in. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani had an impression of a graceless figure, +uncompromisingly black, that turned as they entered, and stood +still. She heard Nevil's voice say: "Well, Jane, here she +is—the new Lady Sinclair!" She felt a hand, harder than +Audrey's, close upon her own; while Nevil, fearing that his +presence would only multiply embarrassment, passed on to +where the three elders were discussing the latest evening +paper, brought by George. +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment's dead weight of silence between +the two he left behind. Opposite as the black and white +they wore, they had yet one trait in common. Both were +too innately honest for surface insincerities. Lilamani—startled +by the fierce flame of hate that had leaped in her +at the touch of hands—was smitten dumb; leaving Jane, +woman of the world, to hit the happy mean between rank +hypocrisy and truth. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm so glad you're both really home at last," said she. +"We were beginning to think we should never see you in +the flesh!" Her attempt at lightness rang false; and the +new Lady Sinclair's small, polite smile was a little +disconcerting. But Jane Roscoe was not the woman to be lightly +put out of countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose Nevil has shown you all round the dear old +Place by this time?" she asked conversationally. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; so much as possible in such uncomfortable kind of +weather. With sunshine it is beautiful." +</p> + +<p> +Lady Roscoe nodded. "Autumn's a bad time, of course. +Nevil should have brought you home long ago." +</p> + +<p> +"There was too much work in Italy." +</p> + +<p> +"Was there? I'm sure he could have done it just as +well here. Some artist's fad about 'atmosphere.' Simply +an excuse. He's incorrigible over the Continent. But now +we've got him into his proper place at last, we must keep +him there. We shall expect you to use your influence!" +</p> + +<p> +The soft mouth hardened ever so little. +</p> + +<p> +"Best surely for—husband to do what he thinks right." +</p> + +<p> +Her instinctive avoidance of Nevil's name gave an air of +stiffness, of sententiousness to her small remark; and Jane +flashed out with a touch of ungovernable asperity: "A +good deal depends upon the husband. Some men have a +convenient knack of thinking 'right' any mortal thing they +feel inclined to do at the moment." +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani's brows went up a fraction of an inch. +</p> + +<p> +"Have they?" she murmured with a laming indifference +that effectively tripped up the subject. +</p> + +<p> +Another dead weight of silence. Her eyes had wandered +to the slim figure on the hearth-rug, and Jane's chill antagonism +was pricked to active irritation. What an insipid little +fool the girl was! And why on earth had not Nevil +insisted on a more decent show of mourning? She herself +still abjured white, except at throat and wrists. By way of +broaching the subject, she lightly fingered the gossamer <i>sari</i>; +and Lilamani needed all her self-control not to shrink visibly +from her touch. +</p> + +<p> +"Very beautiful, indeed," she said, not without a shade +of condescension. "You never wear black in India?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. Not custom. It is too sad, and too ugly with +dark skin. So I could only leave off from colour, though +for me almost like breath of life." +</p> + +<p> +It was Lady Roscoe's turn to lift her brows. She +stigmatized all such phrases as "artist's jargon," and supposed +the child had caught up, parrot-wise, scraps of her +husband's tall talk. She merely said: "H'm! I suppose you +can live without it for a time—out of respect for Nevil's +loss?" +</p> + +<p> +"But naturally. What else?" Lilamani made answer +with such transparent simplicity that again Lady Roscoe +had an annoying sense of disconcertion, of being politely set +at arm's length by this mere child, who, but for Nevil's +madness, had no business to be reigning at Bramleigh +Beeches at all. +</p> + +<p> +"I was suggesting thin line of black along this border," +the soft voice went on; "but—<i>he</i> did not wish." +</p> + +<p> +"H'm!" Jane remarked afresh, and on her lips that +ungracious monosyllable had an eloquence of its own. "I +can quite believe it! He always <i>does</i>——" +</p> + +<p> +But what he always did his wife never learnt; for at this +point the door opened to admit Cuthbert Broome, who came +eagerly forward, his sailor eyes agleam. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah—there you are, my runaway bride of Antibes!" +said he, enclosing her hand in his great friendly grasp, while +Lady Roscoe, to their mutual relief, passed on. "And +here's my girl, Morna, dying to make your acquaintance." +</p> + +<p> +Morna Broome—tawny-haired and blue-eyed like her +father—flushed up to her eyebrows. "It's all father's +doing," said she. "He's a great admirer! And his +enthusiasms are so infectious." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. That I remember well!" Lilamani answered, the +morsel of ice at her heart dissolving like magic in the +geniality that breathed from both. "I cannot ever be thankful +enough to your father for this most beautiful summer in +my first home." +</p> + +<p> +She bestowed on the big man a look of melting tenderness, +through which laughter gleamed; and Broome nodded +down at her, well content. Jane, watching covertly from +the hearth-rug, saw that look through the distorting glass of +prejudice; and misread it altogether. +</p> + +<p> +"The harem type all over," was her thought. "Shamming +shyness with <i>me</i>—her husband's sister. But all +smiles and sugar for a man—though he's not one of US." +</p> + +<p> +For Jane, like Aunt Julia, spoke the sacred pronoun in +capitals. To-night it was Lilamani's patent duty to +ingratiate herself with Nevil's People; and she would +probably spend half the evening talking Antibes with Broome! +Nevil should have coached her in advance. Just like his +casual ways! +</p> + +<p> +The three near the piano, joined by Christina, were soon +engrossed in easy, happy talk, the real Lilamani flashing out +spontaneously, at moments, in low laughter, and shy, +playful sallies, to the further confounding of Jane. Nevil—after +praiseworthy efforts to discuss Egyptian unrest with +Lord Roscoe—drifted irresistibly back to the piano, leaving +the five elders regnant on the hearth-rug: immemorial throne +of the British home. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Robert had twice consulted his watch, a trifle +ostentatiously, when George and Phillippa sauntered in, serenely +unhurried; and there was only time for a brief introduction +before Lord Roscoe offered Lady Sinclair his arm. +</p> + +<p> +Phillippa's first thought was an unconscious echo of +Jane's: "The harem type all over." It is the brand +wherewith the essential woman is branded by an emergent +minority; to which Phillippa Weston pre-eminently belonged. +A good shot, a straight rider, and mistress of a clear five +thousand a year—she was, as Jane had written, a "sound +and satisfactory" family asset. And if Jane's conviction +plus the thousands were, in a measure, responsible for +George's fervour, Phillippa had no inkling of the fact. +She had the modern girl's tendency to admire her own sex; +and Lady Roscoe stood scarcely second to George in her +esteem. On one point alone were they at variance. Jane +was a passive advocate of women's right to vote; Phillippa +an active one. But it was quite understood that the +martyr's crown must be foregone if she desired to become +Mrs. George Sinclair: the which she did as heartily as any +unit of the unenlightened mass. She was woman enough +also to note and resent the fact that George's glance +lingered unduly on his new sister-in-law, even while he gave +his arm to Morna Broome, who looked a trifle overgrown +and rough-cut by contrast. +</p> + +<p> +As for Lilamani, bringing up the solemn procession on +Lord Roscoe's arm, she had thoughts for nothing but the +lean, grave-eyed man, whose over-punctilious politeness +reduced her to monosyllables and murmured platitudes; the +more so because Jane, given over to Broome, walked just +ahead. +</p> + +<p> +The hour that followed was one of undiluted misery for +the zenana-bred hostess of eighteen, condemned to sit +through a six-course dinner with a mixed party of strangers, +who talked and laughed incessantly while eating, and—worse +still—had all of them a covertly curious eye to their +kinsman's bride. +</p> + +<p> +Alone with Lord Roscoe, the veil of shyness might have +been lifted. But the noise and lights bewildered her, while +Jane's proximity froze all spontaneous speech upon her lips. +Broome—who had not the clue to her discomfiture—did +his utmost to dispel it, with small success. Once or twice +Nevil caught her eye and smiled encouragement across +leagues of chrysanthemum-decked table-cloth. But he was +so far off, and That Terrible, with eyes that probed like +gimlets, so perturbingly near! Lord Roscoe, scholarly and +unprejudiced, had to own himself disappointed; and Miss +Sinclair, who found dear Edward's conversation so +stimulating, reaped the benefit accordingly. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed as if dessert would never arrive! But it did. +And with it came the alarming recollection that it would +be hers to make the move, to catch Lady Margaret's eye. +From the moment the wine began to circulate her mind +became so concentrated on this achievement that she could +hardly hear what Cuthbert Broome was saying. +</p> + +<p> +In the end it was Nevil who saw, and came to her rescue; +and the thing was done. They were all filing out, the +black-robed figures, in the midst of which she gleamed like +a ray of light; and Christina, hanging back, slipped a +sheltering arm round her as they went out. +</p> + +<p> +George, holding the door open, smiled genially upon her; +and, returning, sat down by his brother. +</p> + +<p> +"By Jove, Nevil, you've my hearty congrats!" he said +under his breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Thanks, old chap." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil spoke without enthusiasm and glanced toward the +other end of the table. But the elder men were discussing +Sir George's cellar—an engrossing topic; and George the +younger went on, still in the same confidential undertone: +"Hindu or no, she's a jewel of the first water. You don't +get a sight of her sort in India. And perhaps it's as well, +for the peace of the community! Alluring. That's the +word. A woman all through as they still make 'em in the +East; though we're losing the art this side, worse luck." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil—listening with amused indifference to the sort of +comments one expected from George—sipped his port and +thought of Phillippa Weston, who was none of these +things. +</p> + +<p> +But his brother's next words put indifference to flight. +</p> + +<p> +"All the same, old man," he went on with a twinkle of +jocose sagacity, "when it comes to that type, the purdah +has its advantages, eh? No risk of complications——" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil straightened himself with a jerk. +</p> + +<p> +"Damn your impertinence! What the deuce do you +mean?" he asked sharply under his breath, and was grateful +for a shout of laughter from Broome. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, nothing, my dear chap, nothing." George's tone +was a metaphorical pat on the shoulder. "Can't you take +a bit of chaff in the right spirit? You seem to have grown +almighty touchy since your marriage. I'm a plain practical +chap with a shrewd pair of eyes in my head—that's all." +</p> + +<p> +"Keep your shrewdness for your own affairs then." Nevil's +cooler tone had a touch of incision, and leaving his +chair he sat down near Broome. +</p> + +<p> +George, scowling across at him over the top of a lighted +match, reflected sagely that a few years with the Regiment +would have done old Nevil a power of good. As it was, he +half suspected his brother of turning prig—most heartily +hated word in the British language. But Nevil Sinclair was +neither prig nor Bayard. He had the fastidiousness of his +temperament—and its susceptibility. Did he err, his heart +must be involved. It must be the woman, however transitory. +For George the indefinite article sufficed: a radical +distinction. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, in a sense, the younger brother's puzzlement was +justified. Six months of marriage and steady work had +wrought imperceptible changes in Nevil Sinclair, as he +himself was aware; though he scarcely realized yet how +much was due to the girl-wife who swayed him by the very +completeness of her submission, as only the true woman-spirit +can. At this moment he was merely angry, and glad +to be quit of George, who—being deserted—took his own +small revenge. +</p> + +<p> +The opening flourish of a Chopin polonaise suggested the +possibility of quiet talk under cover of "Kit's fireworks"; +and deliberately extinguishing his cigar he went in search +of amusement more congenial than the dining-room could +offer. +</p> + +<p> +Phillippa, deep in shooting prospects with Jane, started +and flushed a little at her lover's entrance. But George, +incapable of finesse, had eyes only for the thing he sought. +</p> + +<p> +"Jove! I'm in luck!" was his mental comment. For his +sister-in-law sat alone on a settee near the grand-piano, over +which Morna Broome leaned, absorbed and envious. Jane +and Phillippa sat by the fire, and Aunt Julia had taken Lady +Margaret to her own room. +</p> + +<p> +George made straight for the sofa, where Lilamani lay +back with eyes half closed, thankful for a brief respite from +the need to "make talk." At his approach she looked up +and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not disturbing you, am I?" he asked perfunctorily +as he sat down. "And you don't mind talking a little while +Kit makes that unholy noise?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," she answered untruthfully, as in duty bound; and +he was content. +</p> + +<p> +For a space he talked platitudes, one arm laid along the +sofa-back in casual brotherly fashion; while she murmured +polite responses, seldom raising her eyes. Once during a +softer passage in the music her lifted hand pleaded for +silence; and he sat watching her, wondering whether, after +all, he would have had Nevil's pluck when it came to the +point. He began to believe he would. The longer he +looked at her, the more firmly he believed it. The conviction +did not disturb his placid affection for Phil. It enhanced +the pleasure of sitting so close to this delicately +alluring bit of femininity—that was all. It made him +want to bring a light into her eyes, colour into her cheeks, +to enforce some sort of recognition that she was talking to +a man. +</p> + +<p> +Renewed crashing of chords gave him his chance. He +leaned nearer. +</p> + +<p> +"Am I allowed to speak now—Lilamani?" +</p> + +<p> +He paused before the name and pronounced it +"Lilamarny." She winced and shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"Not say it that way, please." +</p> + +<p> +"What way, then? Teach me." +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani." She spoke the word with a dainty crispness; +the first syllable slightly stressed, the second "a" +almost a "u." +</p> + +<p> +"It's a thundering pretty name, the way you say it," was +his masculine comment. "And the meaning's prettier still. +Nevil told us. If I can't pronounce it to please you, let me +call you Jewel instead. Comes more natural to an Englishman, +and they couldn't possibly have picked anything more +appropriate." +</p> + +<p> +Something in the tone, rather than the words, called up +the slow, veiled blush that had so charmed Nevil in early +days. He entered at the moment with Broome; saw the +blush, and noting his brother's attitude, made straight for +the settee. +</p> + +<p> +George greeted him with imperturbable complaisance. +</p> + +<p> +"We've been making friends—Lilamani and I." +</p> + +<p> +"That's all right," quoth Nevil dryly; and drawing up a +chair, sat down beside his wife. +</p> + +<p> +Talk languished; Christina's Polonaise crashed to its +conclusion; and George, seeing that no more blushes would +be his, sauntered over to the fire-place for consolation. +But Phillippa, on his approach, became the more ostentatiously +engrossed in Jane; and he, with a resigned movement +of the shoulders, returned to the dining-room, to +enjoy the smoke he had sacrificed, and await a probable game +of Bridge. +</p> + +<p> +His last glance was not toward the fire-place but toward +Nevil's wife, whose eyes were upon her husband's face, +mutely demanding was he satisfied with his Lilamani—now? +</p> + +<p> +His answering smile reassured her; though, in his heart, +he felt she had been over-successful in the wrong direction, +and hoped for better results on the morrow. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0302"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER II +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Heaven's own screen<br> + Hides her soul's purest depth and loveliest glow;<br> + Closely withheld, as all things most unseen—<br> + The wave-bowered pearl, the heart-shaped seal of green<br> + That flecks the snowdrop underneath the snow."<br> + ROSSETTI.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The morrow brought its own fresh ordeal to the new +Lady Sinclair; added its own quota to the discovery, +each day enforced more clearly, that married life with Nevil, +the rising artist, was one thing, and married life with Sir +Nevil Sinclair of Bramleigh Beeches, in the stronghold of +his fathers, was very much another. +</p> + +<p> +Tea-time found Lilamani in the large hall presiding at +the gate-leg table over a bewildering array of Crown Derby +tea-cups, and a purring silver urn that carried its banner of +steam. More girlishly demure than ever she seemed, in +dead-white dress and <i>sari</i> bordered with palest grey; more +"impossible" than ever also, in the opinion of the elders, +who had made an honest effort to "draw her out" by +talking of India before the kettle arrived. Sir Robert, +mildly pompous and impersonal, had enlarged on the climate +and the sport; Lord Roscoe contributed a few polished and +paralysing questions on India's premier Native State; while +Lady Margaret and Aunt Julia embarked hopefully on the +field of missionary endeavour. A barren field, in this case. +</p> + +<p> +Not that Lilamani's answers were other than intelligent +and polite. But these Western elders, inured by now to the +airy self-assurance of their own young, felt checked and a +little chilled by lowered lids and deferential murmurs; not +realising that this was her idea of correct behaviour to the +more venerable members of a husband's family. +</p> + +<p> +The arrival of the kettle had been a welcome relief to all. +But soon there would be other talk to make; fresh strangers +to encounter. Nevil and Christina had driven out to meet +the new-comers; rank Bohemians both; peculiarly distasteful +to Jane. Morna and her father, after a short turn +with Lilamani, had wandered on through the burnished +glories of the beech-wood. George and Phil had gone for +a ride. There had been a slight coolness between them all +the morning, much of which George had contrived to spend +in Lilamani's neighbourhood. But fresh air and exercise +readjusted things; and on their return, the drive being +empty, he had lifted his <i>fiancée</i> out of the saddle and kissed +her soundly, on the lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh—George!" she murmured, as he released her. +But he had turned aside and was opening the front door. +</p> + +<p> +It was George's way of making love. Little of tenderness +in speech or tone; only an occasional kiss, half passionate, +half shamefaced, when heart or senses were stirred. +Phillippa did not altogether approve. But she wanted +George—for several reasons; and one could not accept a +man piecemeal. +</p> + +<p> +It was not so easy to accept his instant gravitation to the +"harem child" on entering the hall. Mere masculine +instinct, she assured herself; and bore Nevil a grudge for +giving him a chance to gratify it. But he had not gratified +it for many minutes before wheels and a stir outside +announced Nevil and his friends. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani braced herself for renewed "inspection"; and +her young vanity craved the more distinctive setting of +mother-o'-pearl or almond-blossom <i>sari</i>; the golden gleam +or armlets, belt and shoes. She wearied of this eternal +white and grey. Its insipidity seemed to infect her soul; +its—— +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani—here is Miss de Winton." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil's voice roused her. She started; smiled obediently, +and held out her hand. It was retained for a second or +more while its owner regarded her leisurely out of long, +level-lidded eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"This is a great moment, Lady Sinclair," said Leslie de +Winton in a full contralto as leisurely as her gaze. "I've +been counting the days and the hours ever since the invite +came. I've known this Nevil of yours"—she grasped his +arm—"how many years is it, old boy?" +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged and laughed. "I'm weak at arithmetic! +And I've lived a lifetime this summer." +</p> + +<p> +"Well—we'll say a lifetime then!" Her eyes seemed +reluctant to leave his face. "'We were boys together,' +like Mr. and Mrs. Alphonso Browne! And I couldn't +induce myself to believe in Nevil's <i>wife</i> till I'd seen her in +the flesh." +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani had no immediate answer at command. Something +in the look and tone of this mere stranger—little +more than Audrey's age—who laid hands on her man and +called him "old boy" fired her with a hot rush of anger. +But she kept her gaze steady, lest hesitation be deemed +shyness, and a delicate shade of sarcasm lurked in her +question: "Perhaps you are a little more able for believing it +now?" +</p> + +<p> +Miss de Winton, vaguely aware of something amiss, +turned it off with a laugh. "Why, yes. Very much so! +But even now, I can't manage to believe in those pictures! +The Nevil <i>I</i> know could never have achieved the amount; +let alone the unique subject." Again her eyes dwelt upon +him with their odd look of veiled power. "It seems that I +am here to meet a new Nevil as well as a new wife! But I +beg your pardon, Noll"—-this to Norris. "It's your turn +now. Once <i>I</i> get into the middle of the stage I'm rather +apt to stay there unless some one kindly pushes me aside!" +</p> + +<p> +Still unhurried, she moved on her way, shaking hands and +talking in the strong, deliberate voice that was almost a +drawl; while Lilamani, only half appeased, must endure the +scrutiny of eyes the more embarrassing that they were +masculine, prominent and boldly appreciative, under +rough, irritable brows. But for Norris the drawing-room +and the tea-table were unfamiliar mediums—"not being a +placard-painter," was his own explanation; and he had no +platitudes at command. +</p> + +<p> +Having covered his small hostess with confusion by a look +that comprised her from caste-mark to shoe-buckle, he +announced bluntly: "Strikes me, Lady Sinclair, that you +came over from India expressly to do this lucky husband of +yours a double service. He's just the Fate-favoured type +that would get all the plums dropped into his mouth, +without any prelude of starving and agonizing such as we poor +devils have to grind through first——" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you shan't starve and agonize under my roof, +old chap!" Nevil interposed promptly, seeing that the +speech was quite beyond his wife's power to answer. +</p> + +<p> +He would fain have set her at ease by a tender word or +two, a hand on her shoulder; but that he knew too well +by this time how all her "Hindu-ness" shrank from the +lightest revealing of their hearts before others. +</p> + +<p> +"Give this ill-used pair some tea, Lilamani!" was all he +could say. "Unless you'd prefer drinks and cigarettes in +the studio, Norris?" +</p> + +<p> +No. They voted for tea. But Miss de Winton smoked +a cigarette with hers, and flicked her ash about the carpet, +to Aunt Julia's amaze and Jane's unspeakable disgust. +</p> + +<p> +The family dispersed more or less during the interlude; +and the moment tea-drinking was over Leslie de Winton rose. +</p> + +<p> +"Now then, Nevil, I'm in a most egregious hurry to be +convinced of the existence of these myths!" +</p> + +<p> +"You look it!" said he, surveying with a smile her lazy +length, that held the same kind of power as her eyes. +"You'll tear me into ribbons between you. But you're +more than welcome——" +</p> + +<p> +He motioned her to the door; and as they went forward, +he lingered a moment to lean over his wife's chair. +</p> + +<p> +"Aren't you coming too, Jewel of Delight?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not now—please," she answered, and her eyes clung +to his for one appealing instant. +</p> + +<p> +But as soon as he was gone, she lay back and closed them, +simulating weariness as a cloak for vague trouble and +bewilderment of soul. Weeks of monopoly had made the +studio dear and sacred almost as her shrine. It was one +thing to admit Christina, who was "Nevil in a girl." But +to share it with strangers—the one, too openly intimate +with him; the other too likely to persecute her with his +eyes, in the fashion of M. Leseppes—was more than she +would willingly endure. It began to dawn upon her that +this trouble of the way men looked at you must be an +inevitable phase of unveiled life: a phase that made her long +for the cloistered shelter of the Inside as nothing else had +done yet. Even George, brother and promised husband, +was not above reproach. +</p> + +<p> +And to-day—fresh perturbation on her lord's account. +If it were <i>dastur</i> that the free women of England should +behave with the husband of another as this bold-mannered +one behaved with hers—Lilamani's, then, better a thousand +times that wife should be shut away where she might +not feel the poison-pricks of jealousy—fierce and primitive +in this gentle creature even as her hate. But of what use +to consider advantages? The unveiled life was of her own +choosing; and must be accepted, good with ill. +</p> + +<p> +At this point the insistent murmur of voices tangled her +thread of thought. The room had fallen very still. All +who remained were occupied with pen or book. Only +those voices came from the fireside, where Jane and Aunt +Julia discussed the recent misfortunes and follies of a poor +relation, Clara by name. She lived, it seemed, at a place +called Gunnersbury, where rooms were few and small; and +servants either were not, or did little to earn their wages; +since this Clara appeared to have "everything on her +hands" from cooking to making the children's clothes, which +she did badly enough, according to Jane. For there were +children also in this abode of dinginess and small space. +That one word enchained Lilamani's attention; and a vision +of children, who were also relations, redeemed the sordid +picture. One had been ill. So had Clara herself. They +spoke of the ill one as "Nevil," and Lilamani's heart +contracted. It was her foolish thought that no living woman, +save herself, could be mother of a man-child and call his +name Nevil. But the fact, though disconcerting, quickened +her sympathy for one so blest yet so ill-fated. She +listened eagerly. Aunt Julia was speaking now. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, dear, one <i>knows</i> her capacity for muddling +things almost amounts to genius. But then—these illnesses, +with her income! And after all, she <i>is</i> poor dear Richard's +widow——" +</p> + +<p> +"Which means you've been sending her another cheque. +Aunt Ju, you're incorrigible!" +</p> + +<p> +Disapproval lurked in Jane's half-playful remonstrance; +and a hint of apology in Miss Sinclair's reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Only five pounds, dear, to help her take the child to +St. Leonard's. But the money has melted; and they've +never been. There were difficulties——" +</p> + +<p> +"There always are. There always would be, with Clara, +if she had a thousand a year!" This from Jane, with her +touch of asperity. "She's one of the patently unfit. And +really, Aunt Ju, you make things worse by pauperizing her. +She knows quite well that whenever a tight corner comes, +a cheque will drop out of the sky. If she didn't, she might +at least try to make some sort of provision for bad times like +these." +</p> + +<p> +Lady Roscoe had never troubled herself to discover by a +simple sum of arithmetic what manner of provision for +emergencies could be achieved by a woman of gentle birth, +doomed to feed, dress, and educate four children on a bare +two hundred a year. Hers was the supreme handicap of +the unimaginative: utter inability to see life through other +eyes than her own. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Sinclair, softer of heart and conscience, could only +reiterate her unanswerable argument: "After all, my dear, +she is poor Richard's widow." +</p> + +<p> +And "Richard" having been first cousin to Sir +George—though only a degree less unfit than his wife—Jane +could but acquiesce, and change the subject; which spoilt +everything. Lilamani wanted to hear more, or be left in +peace to think of this unknown "Clara"; this woman of her +husband's family, who lacked space and money, and even +food, while she and Nevil were overburdened with useless +servants, empty rooms and more than sufficient money to +fulfil their needs. For Nevil had said little to her of his +own inability to make ends meet. As head of the family, +surely his duty was clear. If relations were in need or +sickness, their place was at Bramleigh Beeches. That was her +Eastern view. For in India organized charity is not. Each +family group is more or less responsible for its own. +Possibly Nevil had not heard, or did not realize. Children in +the house—young children! Her woman's heart thrilled +at the prospect. Rising quietly she slipped out of the room, +and ran up to the Tower, that she might think things out in +her shrine. But she reckoned without Nevil's quick ears +and keen desire of her. +</p> + +<p> +At the sound of her light step without, he opened the +studio door. +</p> + +<p> +"Come and join the private view, Lilamani," said he. +"The pictures are as much yours as mine. And so I've +told them!" +</p> + +<p> +"However much you are telling it, they will never +believe such foolishness!" she made answer, laughing; +reluctance dispelled by his tribute. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not sure of <i>that</i>, Lady Sinclair," quoth Norris, +regarding, with quickened interest, her girlish outlines of +face and figure. "Personally, I'm inclined to score under +the polite remark I achieved downstairs! This scene in +particular, Sinclair, stamps you—places you even more than +the rest." He flung a declamatory hand towards the easel, +where Nevil had just set up Sita in the Asoka Garden, with +its grimly suggestive background of fiends vigilant, and its +foreground of delicate beauty veiled and blurred with grief, +as the face of the moon by passing clouds. "No man of our +school could have resisted such a chance—and the abduction +gave you another—of making your thrill the wrong way +round. Even a touch of bestiality wouldn't have been amiss. +Degenerate or no, there's a certain chill down the spine +producible by vigorous, remorseless handling of the hideous +that leaves the more commonplace appeal to beauty miles +behind." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment, Nevil considered the matter, and his +canvas; then shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"I find more than enough of ugliness and terror in both +scenes," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite so. You're not Leseppes 'god-son' for nothing. +But for all he's left his mark on your work, you've the +reticence, the delicacy and mellow sanity of an older school. +You're not afraid of simplicity; and it's clear you believe in +beauty all along the line." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, thank God, I do." Nevil glanced involuntarily +at his wife. "I hope no school or movement or 'ism' +will ever tempt me into deifying the ugly and abnormal, +even for the sake of your chill down the spine!" +</p> + +<p> +Norris laughed. "For ever and ever. Amen! Eh? +Wait till you've seen Leslie's latest. But I doff my hat to +the rising apostle of sanity! I can still admire work on +your lines when—and only when—it bears the clear stamp +of personal vision, in addition to such notable brushwork +and force of colour. Yes, my dear chap, in spite of your +confounded healthiness, I believe you'll do! But as I've +leave to quarrel with a thing or two—look here——" +</p> + +<p> +And securing the "apostle of sanity" by the arm he +launched into a tangle of minor technicalities that swept +the talk far above Lilamani's head. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie de Winton, noting this, drew her aside. +</p> + +<p> +"Let them wrangle it out between them, Lady Sinclair," +said she. "I want to hear something more about this +magical Epic, that seems to have fired your husband as +I've never seen him fired yet. One knew the name, of +course; and Nevil has given us the bare bones of the story. +What a big conglomerate thing it is! And what an +uncomfortably high standard of wifehood it reveals. Thank +heaven, our men don't set us on such heroic pedestals in +these days! And I suppose even Indian ideals have come a +shade nearer to earth in the last thousand years or so?" +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani, half puzzled, half repelled, could only shake +her head. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't quite know your meaning about nearer to earth. +Of course it is difficult, always, for those not heroine-made +to climb to such a height. But Sita is still ideal for all true +Indian wives to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor misguided souls!" The Englishwoman's genuine +dismay set Lilamani smiling in spite of herself. +</p> + +<p> +"Not so misguided, nor so hardship as you think," said she. +</p> + +<p> +"Not hardship? My dear Lady Sinclair! To be +condemned to worship a very fallible and human husband +as god? <i>I</i> should say insult would be nearer the mark!" +</p> + +<p> +The daughter of Rajputs frowned. +</p> + +<p> +"It is not 'condemned,' nor insult," she said, with a +touch of heat. "It is by nature, by religion——" +</p> + +<p> +"Then it's high time nature and religion tried a change +of programme! Rare luck for you, isn't it, marrying into +a saner and more reasonable state of things?" +</p> + +<p> +"I? How you mean? No difference with me. I am +still Hindu. You think by change of name and country the +soul can change beliefs, ideals, as if like clothes." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid I didn't think. But then—good +Lord——" The incredible conclusion dawned on her. "You +don't mean to tell me that Nevil is—that if Nevil were +to——" +</p> + +<p> +"Please not say any more," Lilamani broke in hurriedly, +the hot blood surging into her face. "It is not—I am not +able for discussing so sacred subject ... with strangers——" +</p> + +<p> +To hide her confusion and check further speech she +turned abruptly toward the window; and Leslie de +Winton's sallow face changed colour. She was sorry to have +trespassed on this quaint child's preserves: but irrespressible +amusement narrowed her eyes. Nevil—most casual and +unheroic of men, whom no one but herself had ever seemed +to take quite seriously till now— +</p> + +<p> +He turned at the moment, caught her smiling, and inquired +innocently: "What's the joke?" +</p> + +<p> +"You are!" she answered, stepping closer and lowering +her voice. "You'll soon be invisible to us earth-worms—the +rate you're going up. A baronet; a budding R.A.; +and now I find that mere marriage has exalted you into a +'sacred subject'!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, hang it, Les. Shut up." Nevil frowned sharply +and glanced at his wife's figure in the window. "It's not +me. You don't understand." +</p> + +<p> +Low as he spoke, Lilamani caught the words and the +"small name" that hurt her like a blow. How little it +might imply she did not stay to consider. She hated its +owner; and was racking her brain for a polite means of +escape, when the leisurely voice remarked: "Well, so long, +Nevil. It's good to be here again. I must go now and +uncrumple my evening dress." +</p> + +<p> +To Lilamani it seemed a miracle wrought in her favour. +It did not strike her that an exchange of glances had +sufficed; and that Leslie had carried off the bewildered +Norris by force, to explain "the joke" in her own ribald +fashion, outside. She only knew, with a lift of the heart, +that they were gone. What matter how? She only stood +waiting, with young intensity of expectation, for the +beloved footstep, the beloved arm round her body. +</p> + +<p> +And when these came, quietly, without speech, in the +English fashion she had learnt to love, she turned swiftly +and hid her burning face in the roughness of his coat. +</p> + +<p> +He gave her a minute or so to recover herself, his left +hand pressing her head against its shelter. +</p> + +<p> +Then: +</p> + +<p> +"You must make allowances, little one," he said, "if +some of them <i>do</i> trample unawares on your holy ground. +The sanctities are out of fashion here, nowadays. But +Leslie's a good sort. She meant no harm." +</p> + +<p> +"Is she—cousin, that you call her by that private +name?" came the muffled voice, shifting the issue in a +manner so purely feminine that the man smiled and pressed her +closer. +</p> + +<p> +"No. She's no connection. But we're very good friends. +She's bound to be here pretty often; and I want you to +like her. She's a very clever artist—and quite a good sort +really," he repeated, feeling the movement of negation under +his hand. +</p> + +<p> +Her speech confirmed it. +</p> + +<p> +"'Good sort' your Lilamani doesn't know. She is +horrid woman. Profane woman. Not worthy for having a +husband—or—or sons—ever!" +</p> + +<p> +It was her supremest malediction, as Nevil knew by now. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Leslie!" said he, and his eyes grew soft with a +passing memory. "Worthy or not, the odds are against +her having either—now." +</p> + +<p> +He did not feel bound to add that at one time she had +openly aspired to become the future Lady Sinclair. Even +with the dear head against his breast he had a momentary +qualm in realizing that but for a timely separation, at a +critical juncture, his house of marriage would have been +builded upon sand and this pearl of womanhood would +never have been his. Leslie, with her strong irregular +features, lithe body, and hint of power in reserve, had +fascinated him mentally, to the verge of obsession. She +fascinated him still. But this flower of the East, this very +woman compact of fire and dew, held every fraction of him +prisoner in her softly-clinging hands. +</p> + +<p> +"She mustn't be a hard-judging, narrow-minded +Lilamani," he reproved her in all gentleness. "And she +mustn't make foolishness about the 'private name!' You +didn't mind it with Audrey. She's no cousin either." +</p> + +<p> +"No. Yet not the same with her. I can't tell—I +feel——" She lifted her head in the effort to crystallize vague +yet unerring intuitions; and Broome's voice sounded at the +door. +</p> + +<p> +"You there, Nevil?" +</p> + +<p> +Sinclair glanced at his wife. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—yes. Him I love!" she whispered, freeing herself +from his arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Come on, old man," Nevil called out; adding, as the +novelist entered: "Here's an honour that you dreamt not +of. Lady Sinclair loves you!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Nevil! I didn't mean—how trouble you are!" +she cried, in a pretty flutter of embarrassment; and Broome, +with genuine pleasure in his eyes: +</p> + +<p> +"Don't spoil such a charming confession, my dear. I +heartily return the compliment." +</p> + +<p> +Then, with one of those touches of the Southerner that +so well became him, he lifted her hand to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +"I came to say," he went on, beaming at his astonished +host, "that Christina and Morna are having quite a concert +in the drawing-room. My infant sings rather nicely. She's +shy of performing after dinner, as yet. But I'd like you to +hear her, if you've done with each other <i>pro tem</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Lady Sinclair crumpled her brow over that last. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Pro tem</i>? That is what Audrey was calling something +in the food." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil burst out laughing. "Proteids! Not half a bad +shot! Poor old Audrey's teaching didn't leave much of a +mark." +</p> + +<p> +"A girl to be reckoned with, though. Character enough +for two!" Broome remarked with a twinkle, recalling the +day of the storm. "Heard anything of her since Antibes?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. She's in Scotland with her people. We've asked +her to look us up when she comes in this direction." +</p> + +<p> +He opened the door for his wife in speaking, and they +went out. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0303"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER III +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Yet we are one;—<br> + One is the perfect sense of Eastern meaning:—<br> + Gold and the bracelet, water and the wave."<br> + LAURENCE HOPE.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Dinner that night was something less of an ordeal; +though it would be long before this puzzling fashion +of entertainment could be anything but distasteful to +Lilamani Sinclair. Lord Roscoe seemed a shade less +formidable; and in the drawing-room Jane made an honest +effort at friendly talk with Nevil's wife. But not all that +wife's devotion could impel her to genuine response. Wax +in the hands of those she loved, Lilamani had yet her share +of the fighting spirit and fierce pride of her race, that +leaped in flame at every word or look from this condescendingly +dutiful sister of her husband, in whose heart were +poisoned arrows and a sharp sword. So the effort proved +barren of result; and Jane, having done her duty, reverted +to the faithful Phil. +</p> + +<p> +Again there was music for the younger ones; Bridge for +the elders; and clumsy attentions from George, whom she +smiled upon sweetly as "a brother." But through it all +she was acutely aware of Leslie de Winton's tall figure in +its elaborately simple grey-green sheath; seldom far from +Nevil's elbow. Some lightning instinct whispered that here +was only the mask of friendship; and every time the +deliberate gaze rested on her lord's face, or the deliberate +voice "took his name," Lilamani's heart burned with a +murderous resentment, for which no one present would +have given her credit; least of all her husband, who believed +he knew her by now. And there was trouble with Norris' +eyes. Not such barefaced persecution as that of M. Leseppes; +but sufficient to make this child of seclusion feel +strangely unsheltered and defenceless, even under her +husband's roof, shrine of all the sanctities to an Indian wife. +</p> + +<p> +Altogether it was a time of puzzling complexities and +strange discoveries, that interminable week-end; the +forerunner of many such. That was the worst of it. Nevil +had explained that, at least while shooting lasted, "the +clan" regarded the week-end at Bramleigh Beeches as its +due; and little Lady Sinclair, with never a germ of social +or sporting instinct in her composition, must needs adapt +herself to a sacred form of ritual that seemed to take the +place of religion in the West. There were moments of pure +enjoyment with Christina and Morna, or Broome; moments +of half-fearful pleasure with the over-appreciative George; +and one blessed escape to tea with Helen Despard, she +and Christina alone. Yet it was with unfeigned relief +that she received the last handshake; the last kiss on her +cheek. +</p> + +<p> +They were gone—all gone! It was as if a ton-weight +fell from her shoulders. Christina would return in a few +days to say good-bye. In the meantime, tea in the studio, +and Nevil all to herself for hours and hours! He too was +relieved. She felt it in the air; though she did not divine +that at least a part of his relief was due to the fact that she +had not produced quite the effect he had hoped for. He +made every allowance for difficulties no Englishman could +fully understand. But he had sincerely hoped "things +would go better next time." +</p> + +<p> +As for her, she wanted to forget that next time would +ever come. She also wanted to talk of Clara, whose story, +in outline, she had drawn from Aunt Julia: a sordid, +commonplace story of one of the world's poor things, +foredoomed to go under in the struggle for life. Richard +Sinclair, it seemed, had been an idle good-for-nothing. Truth +compelled Aunt Julia to admit the damning fact; while +loyalty prompted her to regret, in the same breath, that +everyone noticed his unfortunate likeness to his mother! +He had died—two years ago—leaving his second wife in +genteel poverty, with a young stepson and four children of +her own. A feckless creature, it seemed, always ailing; +but devoted to the children; and the new niece's evident +sympathy had gone far to win Aunt Julia's heart. +</p> + +<p> +Now—tea being over, and she, crouched on her low +stool, arms resting on his knees, while he smoked, the +cherished plan found utterance. Had he heard? Had he +realized? Those others that he had invited were well-provided +as themselves. But this poor woman, widow of blood-relation, +mother of sons, sick, in trouble ... and they, with +so many empty rooms—— +</p> + +<p> +She broke off uncertainly, for Nevil had opened his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear little wife—what are you driving at? D'you +want 'em all <i>here</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +Her smile, tremulously pitiful, was a lovely thing to see. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought ... only natural, like in India—when you +knew there was trouble——" +</p> + +<p> +"But there always is trouble in Clara's direction. I'm +awfully sorry for her, poor soul; and I'd be glad to give her +a helping hand, though hardly to the extent of turning +Bramleigh Beeches into a <i>crêche</i>, overrun with unruly +children——!" +</p> + +<p> +Something in his tone brought her heart into her throat. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you not caring very much—for children?" she +asked, moving one hand nervously up and down his knee. +</p> + +<p> +He covered it with his own. "Of course I'm fond of +children. Most decent men are. But Clara's are a +harum-scarum lot. She has as little control over them as over +anything else. And what would the great Mrs. Lunn say +to such an invasion?" +</p> + +<p> +The soft mouth took a line of decision: but Lilamani +had to swallow before she could speak. The dimmest sense +of disappointment in him—her idol, was hard to bear. +</p> + +<p> +"The house is belonging for you, not for Mrs. Lunn," +she said, looking intently at the long fine hand on his knee. +"And—he is ill—that littlest one called by your name. +Aunt Julia was sending money for a place called +St. Leonard's. But one cannot go without all. Oh, Nevil!" +she looked up eagerly confident—"How easy to send money +for all! You have so much——" +</p> + +<p> +He looked deep into her eyes before replying. Her appealing +beauty of soul and flesh moved him more, it is to be +feared, than Clara's need. +</p> + +<p> +"I haven't 'so much.' That's the difficulty. This great +house with all its staff and hundreds of acres doesn't mean +untold wealth rolling in to keep it going. It may sound +queer to you, but I'm almost as hard put to it as Clara to +make ends meet." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Nevil—dear lord! But why then—have all +these ... wealthy ones ... not in trouble?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's a riddle not to be answered off-hand, little wife! +It would take a deal of explaining; and I wanted if possible +to shield you from all contact with the sordid struggle +between ways and means. To you money is nothing more +than a name; and I should prefer to keep it so as long as +may be. But you're such a stern moralist, you creature of +sweetness and light! So imbued with the logic of your race +that it might save friction and misunderstanding if I make +my position clear once for all. Only you must have patience +with dull talk and ugly words!" +</p> + +<p> +At that, she drew herself up radiantly elate. Here was +privilege indeed! So rarely is an Indian wife admitted to +a share in the masculine side of her lord's existence; at +least until she be mother as well. +</p> + +<p> +"No need for patience. I am proud with all my soul +that you are wishing me to share. I know I am stupid +for such things. But I will try to understand." +</p> + +<p> +It was not so easy, strive as she might. For a quarter of +an hour and more his quiet voice flowed on, leaving a very +mixed train of impressions in its wake. The mortgage +bewildered her beyond measure. She saw it as an actual +bogey, to be propitiated by means of money doled out at +intervals; a bogey that he might be rid of in time if his +pictures "caught on." She understood his wish to try to +keep things going in the old way, for the sake of family +honour, and that sentence in his father's last letter. She began +to understand also that there is no family system in England, +as in India; no great nexus of responsibility, which obviates +the need for workhouse and orphanage, since none of the +blood can look for support in vain. +</p> + +<p> +But one discrepancy puzzled her; and when all was said, +she drew his attention to it, not without hesitancy. +</p> + +<p> +"Lord of me—you are seeming to forget ... there is +my dowry also. Not small. Though how much, you know +better than I——" +</p> + +<p> +"Your dowry? But my dear, it's your own, always and +altogether. Do you suppose I would use it to keep up the +estate or help my poor relations out of the ditch they have +dug for themselves? I hope I'm man enough to win +through my own muddles, without coming down on you." +</p> + +<p> +It took her a second or so to grasp his masculine and very +British point of view; then she challenged it straightway +with her Asiatic logic. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh Nevil—dearest, what a foolishness! Forgive me +for saying that. But think only—can there be any of me +altogether my own when every part is belonging to my +lord, for this life and all lives to come?" Lightly touching +head and feet, she indicated the completeness of his +dominion. "All great things, real things—life and body and +heart—you let me give without making this trouble of +mine and thine. How then talk of holding back so small a +thing, like money. That your Lilamani will never +understand if you explain up to night-time." +</p> + +<p> +"Then my Lilamani must accept it without understanding!" +said he, drawing her close against him, till head +touched head. +</p> + +<p> +Still she shook her own with gentle obstinacy. "It is +foolishness between wife and husband, this pretending of +thine and mine; especially when there is trouble." Then +her logic triumphed afresh. "But Nevil—if mine, I can +give where I please; even to relation of yours. For that +you cannot refuse permission!" +</p> + +<p> +He could not; and he gave it straightway, in the fashion +she loved best. +</p> + +<p> +"But look here, darling," said he, when their lips were +free for speech. "Unless I keep some sort of check on you, +you'll be flinging away the lot. So listen to me and be +sensible. We'll send her a cheque between us—say twenty +pounds. That will give them all a month at the sea and +help square the doctor. Will that suit you, Lady Sinclair?" +</p> + +<p> +She nodded, beaming, and clapping her hands without +sound. +</p> + +<p> +"That is beautiful! And after——? Can they not +come here ... ever?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes. For a visit. If you're so keen." +</p> + +<p> +"I want ... oh, I want to hold that man-child ... called +of your name ... in my arms," she whispered, a +thrill in her low voice. "You said there must be family +party for Christmas; and that is your feast for worship of +children. Could it not be then?" +</p> + +<p> +"M—yes. A bit of a crowd. But still—anything to +please you. By the way, Ronald, the stepson—he's a +good-looking boy of twenty—wouldn't make half a bad model +for Rāma. I believe my father had some scheme about +training him up as agent to take Thornbrook's place. We'll +have him down one week-end and see." +</p> + +<p> +So the matter was settled, and the letter written; Lilamani +leaning over her husband's shoulder while he filled +in the magic paper that stood for twenty golden pounds, +ten of them her own. Not until next morning was Nevil +tripped up by the question—what would happen when +these unconstitutional doings should reach the ears of Jane? +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0304"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IV +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "There is a bitter drop in the cup of the best love."<br> + NIETZSCHE.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was a clear morning of sharp, white frost; the first of +the year. Lilamani's spirit sprang out of sleep with a +sense of being suddenly very much awake. The window +of the large old-fashioned bedroom stood wide. Nevil had +all the strong young Englishman's faith in fresh air. And +through the opening his wife caught a glimpse of tree-tops +dazzlingly arrayed. Even lying in bed she was conscious +of a new nip in the air. +</p> + +<p> +Curiosity at this rare sense of alertness tempted her to +creep out of bed—very gently, so as not to disturb her +lord. Slipping into her quilted dressing-gown, she stood +looking down at him in a rapt adoration, undimmed by the +manifold disappointments and difficulties of this bewildering +English fashion of life. And the five weeks that had +elapsed since that first coming of the clan had held their full +share of both for husband and wife. +</p> + +<p> +Three more week-end parties, each bearing a strong family +likeness to the first, had come and gone; and Nevil's +confident hope that "things would go better next time" had +been scantily fulfilled. His own flexible nature had +responded readily to the wholesome reaction from six months +of secluded, unswerving dedication to the twin lodestars +of his being—art and the woman. For the moment, at +least, he was thoroughly enjoying his first taste of dispensing +hospitality under his own roof, and naturally desirous that +the woman of his heart should shine in the eyes of others +even as in his own. This, in a limited measure, she did. +Her cool, perfumed apartness and unmistakable high breeding +gave to her beauty a distinctive quality that men were +quick to approve; though the women, with one or two notable +exceptions, were apt to label her "insipid" or "impossible": +the last, an unconscious tribute to her clear-eyed +insistence on essentials, which they believed themselves to +have outgrown. Thus she still remained over-successful in +the wrong direction and still shrank from strange human +beings in the mass, especially at food-time. More than all, +her own enforced prominence—so unbecoming in a young +wife—distressed her soul and made her seeming shyness +the harder to overcome. +</p> + +<p> +It is difficult for the West to understand the Eastern +woman's complete lack of social instinct; difficult also for +a race inured to the arrogant pre-eminence of its youth +to realize how slowly, yet how surely, she of the <i>purdah</i> +comes to her own: and it did not occur to Nevil Sinclair +that in these early days of marriage his young wife felt +herself more or less in her novitiate, one who must walk +humbly and possess herself in patience till the great +consummation was hers. But the consummation came not: and +once again the haunting fear crept in lest he regard her as +a failure in respect of the supreme gift. +</p> + +<p> +For the first few weeks his sympathy, with her fish-out-of-water +sense, had been unfailing. But of late she had +detected an occasional undernote of irritation; and could +but decipher his moods by the light of her own lamp. +Only last night something had seemed to vex him; and on +her venturing to ask what was amiss, he had answered with +a touch of weariness: "Oh, nothing, of any consequence. +Things will right themselves in time." Fervently she +prayed that this steadfast conviction of his might be +fulfilled, while yet remaining far from a clear understanding +of all that fulfilment implied. +</p> + +<p> +In her view one event alone would work the miracle +without fail. And now, standing at the bedside, lost in +worship of the beloved face—the vigorous brow, straight +nose and tender mouth with its endearing touch of the +woman—pain and bewilderment gave place to the rapturous +certainty that some day, some day the son who should bear +his name and nature would lie warm against her breast. +And on that day things would right themselves once for all. +</p> + +<p> +One hand lay uncovered on the pillow. Holding her +breath, she touched it lightly with her lips; then sped to +the window, dread of cold forgotten in the new wonder +that met her gaze. +</p> + +<p> +Out there, in the blue-grey dusk of dawn, the familiar +garden lay translated. A world of enchantment—all +crystal-white, pencilled and stippled with delicate shadows, +grey and sepia and black. No leaf or grass-blade, twig or +pine-needle but wore its fairy garb of frozen dew. Crisp +brown beech-leaves were silver-edged, and a group of young +birches reared plumes of diamond-dust against the pallor +beyond. +</p> + +<p> +A real, visible awakening of earth and sky had become +almost an event in the procession of tearful days that was +called November: and sudden longing seized her to escape, +as a bird from its cage; to stand alone in the midst of that +enchanted world at the moment when it would flash into +many-coloured laughter at the kiss of the sun. A childish +spirit of adventure stirred her pulses. She would go. +They might think what they pleased: "they" being Jane +and George and Phil. For it was Saturday, and a select +party of "guns" had assembled for three days' pheasant-shooting. +</p> + +<p> +It took no time to slip noiselessly into her clothes, +crowning all with fur-lined cloak and hood, and a high, dainty +pair of snow-boots, the only form of boot she could endure +to wear. A cup of tea, made in her shrine, fortified her +against the cold. Then she flew down and out, unmindful +of amazed glances from the second housemaid, who was +shaking out the hall mat. +</p> + +<p> +The garden slept in silver, softly still. But the moment +of awakening was near. Once outside, the novelty of it all +and the pure joy of freedom lured her on. She craved the +wide spaces of the moor, the scrunch of frozen heather +underfoot. A short cut up through the pine plantation soon +brought her out into the open; eyes alight and blood astir +with rapid movement. Stepping to the edge, she sat her +down upon a rock overlooking the valley where Bramleigh +nestled; grey church tower and groups of dull red cottages +only half awake, their trailed pennons of smoke tilted +southward by a light breath from the north. Plunged +knee-deep in misty hollows, the pine woods on the farther +rise stood dreaming, their sharp tops fretted upon a toneless +sky, that only at its zenith achieved a hint of blue. +</p> + +<p> +Still as any tree among them all sat the lone small figure +in the purple cloak, while behind those dreaming woods +the benign smile of morning grew wide and wider. Quietly, +without pomp and flare of cloud-pageant, the God of Light +slipped up over the edge of the world. Trillions of +diamond-sparkles from furred ling and gorse flashed back the +mild light of him. And it was day. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani sat on, yogi-fashion, letting that mild light +baptize her also and chase away the greyness that had +entered into her very soul. Even on this wonder-morning +of fairy raiment and keen sweet air she was aware of +something lacking; of stirrings deep down in her primitive, +passionate nature that found no response in this gentle +dimplement of moor and field; these half-tones and blurred +outlines; this pastoral, emotionless peace. Her Eastern soul +craved colours more vivid, stronger lights and shadows, a +Nature more fiercely, radiantly athrob with the pulse of +life. The memory of a certain blazing Egyptian +sunset—crimson-red as though the heart of heaven were laid +bare—smote her almost with a pang. Here in England the heart +of all things, and even of most humans, lay hid so deep, that +at times she dared to wonder was it there at all. +</p> + +<p> +Loyalty might refuse to admit the fact; but, in truth, +the whole atmosphere of her husband's country—that she +had so ardently desired to love for his sake—chilled and +repressed her sensitive spirit, that had blossomed in the +sunshine and close comradeship of Italy. There the +essentials had been their bread and wine of life. Here +non-essentials triumphed; and she, having small talent for these, +began to feel herself a futile, ineffectual thing beside these +vigorous Englishwomen who could carry guns, talk politics, +literature, art with fluent ease, and treat their men-folk +with scant respect. Was it possible that he would ever +feel the same——? +</p> + +<p> +The desolating question produced a physical shiver; a +reminder that in her absorption she had sat still too long. +The warmth of walking had subsided. Hands and feet +were bitter cold. Foolishness again! She ought not to +have sat down at all. For the last few days there had been +uncomfortable symptoms, and Nevil had feared she was +"in for a cold," that distressing and unbecoming ailment +which seemed almost as persistent a feature of English life +as the rain. Now he would be vexed again; the more so +because she had forgotten that breakfast was earlier on +shooting days. +</p> + +<p> +Luckless Lilamani! A fit of sneezing shook her. She +ran across the open to regain her lost warmth; and on +reaching the pine plantation entered a new realm of faery +delicately aquiver with sun-smitten mist; the breathing of +earth made visible, like her own, by the chill air. Bathed +in it, the slender pine-stems showed almost black, their +eastward rims painted clear golden, their shadows barring +the ground, where moss-cushions gleamed like great emeralds +dropped by Sita in her flight. And at intervals, through +the stillness came the soft flutter and rush of a +breakfast-hunting bird. Hard not to linger and worship afresh; but +duty lent wings to her feet: and she sped on. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +They were all in the dining-room when she entered—flushed, +and a little short of breath. Jane had made tea +and was dispensing it. Lord Roscoe stood over the fire, +airing <i>The Times</i>. George and Phil were discussing the +merits of a new gun she had given him. Young Ronald +Sinclair and Captain Shadwell of George's regiment were +helping themselves at the sideboard. +</p> + +<p> +A polite murmur greeted her appearance, and Nevil shook +his head at her without severity. "Not a very wise +Lilamani!" he whispered, as she slipped past him to take her +rightful place. +</p> + +<p> +Jane, resigning the tea-pot with reluctance, muttered +pessimistically of pneumonia and advised ammoniated +quinine. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Much</i> more sensible if you drove out to lunch with the +guns instead of running about alone at unearthly hours," +she concluded sagely. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—perhaps," murmured the gently persistent renegade +with a half-smile at the characteristic remark. +"Sensible" was the keyword of Jane, even as health was the +keyword of Audrey, and <i>dastur</i> of Mataji. But at thought +of Mataji, her heart contracted strangely; and she forced +herself to join in the general talk. +</p> + +<p> +Breakfast over, there was bustle of departure, and a few +seconds alone with Nevil in the dining-room. He was not +vexed, it seemed. But if anything, a shade more tender +than usual. +</p> + +<p> +"Take good care of yourself, little girl," he said, kissing +her. "Don't mope. And you might do worse than try +that quinine!" +</p> + +<p> +"Very well; if you wish," she agreed meekly; conscious +of burning eyeballs and rasping throat. +</p> + +<p> +In the large hall Ronald Sinclair contrived a parting +word with her. It was not his first visit, and she had a +sisterly affection for the boy, strengthened by the fact that +an occasional turn of the head and shoulders recalled her +husband. Wasn't she coming out to lunch, and wasn't +she well? he asked with frank, boyish dismay. How rotten! +It would just spoil everything. But he daresayed he'd get +back early. "I'm not much of a hand at shooting," he +added by way of excuse. "And I'd far sooner have a quiet +talk with you." +</p> + +<p> +"I would like it also," she agreed, smiling, unaware of +the vigilant eyes of Jane, who had already noted and +resented her disturbing effect even upon the sound and +satisfactory George. Now it was to be Ronald Sinclair. +Really Nevil was a fool! Further proof of it had lately +come to her ears. For the past few weeks she had been too +busy organizing an Emigration League and shooting the +pheasants of political friends to keep abreast of family news. +But she had heard of Clara's windfall now: and finding +Aunt Julia innocent, had come down, determined to impress +on Nevil, for his own good, the fatal mistake of establishing +that sort of precedent with poor relations; Clara, above all: +a determination strengthened by Lilamani's evident +predilection for Clara's stepson. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +When they were gone a great silence fell; a great +emptiness. No one to speak to; nothing to do, for the next +five or six hours at least; unless Ronald returned soon after +lunch. And she hoped he would. Since pheasant-shooting +had become an obsession, there had been many such lonely +days; and for the first time since her marriage there awoke +dim longings for that life of the Inside, where the daily +round did not hang entirely on the ways and whims of a +man. In Italy there had been work and comradeship, and +certain small duties which she had insisted on performing +for her lord. But here——! Work was, for the time, in +abeyance; and comradeship no less. In this unlovely craze +for slaying beautiful birds by the score, she had no wish +to share; and even the smallest duties were taken out of +her hands by silent, ubiquitous servants, whom she had +almost grown to hate. +</p> + +<p> +To-day incipient illness darkened her despondent mood. +The promise of the morning had not been fulfilled, without +or within. Her cold was decidedly worse; and by now +the sky was overcast. A brisk wind from the west lashed +the windows with fine rain. Lilamani sighed. There +seemed no end to this English sky's capacity for tears. +Having completed a long letter to Mrs. Despard, she lunched +alone in her shrine; cooking the meal herself, as always on +shooting days; let the tyrants belowstairs think what they +would. +</p> + +<p> +The lunch post brought two letters: a welcome +interlude. One from her father; one from Audrey. But +neither contained cheering news. Her father wrote that +the chances of getting home next spring were far from +certain. At best he could only hope for a flying visit; and +she must not count too much on that. Audrey's was a +belated answer to Lilamani's invitation for Christmas; a +week, at least. Disappointing here also. Audrey wrote +with sincere regret. For Lilamani's sake she had forced +herself to live down the dread of seeing these two as man +and wife. But there had been illness at home, and much +nursing; and now she herself had "gone all to pieces." The +doctor prescribed a long rest if she hoped to be fit for +India in the spring; and directly it was possible she would +go straight out to Antibes. She would try for a night or +two at Bramleigh on her way through—— +</p> + +<p> +Antibes! Antibes! Headland of blessed memories. +Every nerve in Lilamani ached for the glowing warmth +and colour of it all; the laughter of the sun upon that +sapphire sea with its foam of diamonds; and his strong, warm +kisses on her face when she lifted it to him shielding her +eyes. Lying there on her couch by the rain-blurred window, +half-thinking, half-dreaming, she fell into a light doze, +from which Madgwick's knock roused her with a start. +</p> + +<p> +Young Mr. Sinclair was in the drawing-room, said +Madgwick, and sent to ask was her ladyship at leisure? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. Her ladyship would come at once; though burning +eyeballs and chilled limbs made her wish she had been +left to sleep on. +</p> + +<p> +His young concern at sight of her, his protective airs of +budding manhood, were very engaging, slang or no. He +was a tactless duffer to have disturbed her. A cold made +you feel so rotten; and it was stunning of her to come +down. Just like her sweetness! But, having come, would +she please lie there—he dragged the Chesterfield half +across the hearth-rug—and not trouble about him any more +than if he were the fender-stool! He sat down on it +forthwith and produced a silver cigarette-case; her gift. +</p> + +<p> +"Just one. You're not rigid about it, are you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no." +</p> + +<p> +"And you don't want to hear how many brace we shot?" +</p> + +<p> +"No—please." +</p> + +<p> +The delicate wrinkling of her nose emphasized her recoil +from all thought of the beautiful slaughtered birds; and he +drew her on instead to talk of her own country, its legends, +ideals and beliefs. +</p> + +<p> +From the first she had felt singularly at ease with this +sympathetic young cousin, whom she treated frankly as a +brother; there being small distinction in her own land +between the two. In truth, she admitted to him a closer +intimacy than George; first because of his youth, and second +because, for all his frank admiration, he never troubled +her with his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +While they sat talking dusk drew on, peopling the great +dim room with restless lights and shadows from the blazing +wood fire, worshipped by Lilamani only a few degrees less +than the sun. She was feeling soothed and rested; headache +almost forgotten; when an unmistakable step sounded +without and Lady Roscoe came briskly in. +</p> + +<p> +"No lamps!" Her surprise was tinged with irritation. +"We expected to find tea all ready. Why on earth are you +two moping in the dark?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not moping," Lilamani answered, a faint note of challenge +in her tone. "I had a headache. It was pleasant; +and I forgot the tea. I am sorry. Please to ring, Ronald." +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed, and moved towards the door; anxious, boy-like, +to escape "ructions" that seemed to lurk in the militant +tone of Cousin Jane. Directly the door closed on him, +she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"He's not half a sportsman, that boy. A great mistake +to have him always idling about the house. I shall tell +Nevil. Quite easy to find some young fellow on the spot, +who would come in now and again, and do just as well." +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani roused herself and sat upright. +</p> + +<p> +"No. You are mistaking," she said, with unwonted +decision. "Others would not suit, like Ronald. And we +are so glad for chance to help. He—Nevil, is thinking to +train him for land-agent here, like his father wished." +</p> + +<p> +"Agent, is he? That's the first I've heard of it. Nevil +seems remarkably solicitous for Clara and her contingent +all of a sudden. Or is it you that are so keen, because she +happens to have a good-looking stepson?" +</p> + +<p> +The question was unworthy of Jane. But sport had been +poor, and she was annoyed at finding no tea; or she might +have refrained. The thrust glanced harmlessly aside. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I am liking Ronald very much. But especially I +am glad to help because of that smallest son—godson you +call ... of Nevil's name——" +</p> + +<p> +Had Lady Roscoe been in another rank of life she would +have sniffed. As it was, her smile had more than a hint of +scepticism. +</p> + +<p> +"That's all very well, my dear. Very charming in theory. +But if Nevil is still such an infatuated fool that he +will dash off twenty-pound cheques to order whenever one +of Clara's chronically sick offsprings needs a change——" +</p> + +<p> +She broke off short, for Lilamani had sprung up and +stood confronting her; anger smouldering in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"That is unkindness and untruth! He—he is not like +... what you say; and you shall not speak such rude +words of him to me!" +</p> + +<p> +Jane, though hardly less amazed than Balaam on a +memorable occasion, was by no means nonplussed. +</p> + +<p> +"Your wifely airs and graces are quite thrown away on +me, child," said she with her exasperating air of +condescension. "It strikes me the rudeness is on your side; and +I shall say precisely what I please about my own brother. +For it's true." +</p> + +<p> +"Not true!" Lilamani flashed back fiercely. "It is +simply ... you cannot understand such big feeling. You +said same thing before——" +</p> + +<p> +"I? What d'you mean? I've never mentioned the subject." +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani, realizing her slip, went hot all over. "What +do you mean?" Jane persisted, angered at her silence. +</p> + +<p> +"It's pure invention on your part. Just to make mischief, +I suppose." +</p> + +<p> +"Not invention." Lilamani's tone had grown suddenly +cool and restrained. "Only—being angry, I made +mistake. I was forgetting——" +</p> + +<p> +"What, pray?" +</p> + +<p> +"I ... cannot explain." +</p> + +<p> +"Very mysterious! Perhaps 'won't' would be nearer +the mark." +</p> + +<p> +At that Lilamani's head went up. +</p> + +<p> +"You are right. Better to speak truth. I will not +explain. That is all." +</p> + +<p> +Then—startled at her own temerity, she went swiftly +out through the morning-room, avoiding the large hall. +</p> + +<p> +Even as she went, Madgwick appeared. +</p> + +<p> +"Lamps, please. And tea in the large hall," said Jane. +</p> + +<p> +Nevil crossed him in the doorway, and looked quickly +round. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo! Where's Lilamani?" +</p> + +<p> +Jane made an ungracious movement of her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"Gone off in a fit of temper——" +</p> + +<p> +"Temper? She?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Is it news to you that she has one? Is she always +butter and honey with you?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil ignored the question. +</p> + +<p> +"Ronald says that she's not at all well. What did you +say to upset her?" +</p> + +<p> +"Merely commented on your latest bit of folly about +Clara, and she flew out at me furiously. I suppose one may +express an opinion about you to your divinity, who seems +peculiarly unwilling to bestow any of her butter and honey +on me——" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Jane—that's all nonsense!" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Nevil, it's a fact. I've been as decent as I +could to her for your sake; and at least she might be +moderately pleasant in return. It can't be——" she eyed +him with sudden keenness. "You weren't mad enough to +show her my first letter?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Lord, no!" He fairly flung out the denial; +thankful for the sheltering dusk. +</p> + +<p> +"Then it's sheer whim, and you should give her a good +talking to. One reads that Indian wives are paragons of +obedience. But yours, under all her surface sulkiness, seems +no better than a spoilt child; and you, in your blind +infatuation, are laying up a bad time for yourself——" +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, Jane"—Nevil's voice had a touch of her +own decision—"you don't understand Lilamani. Never +will. I do: and there's an end of the matter. She's my +wife——" +</p> + +<p> +"She is also mistress of the dear old Place, worse luck, and +the possible mother of future Sinclairs. Though I tell you +frankly, it's my fervent hope that if children must come of +this crazy marriage there may at least be no son——" +</p> + +<p> +"For God's sake, keep your fervent hopes to yourself!" +Nevil cried out sharply, white-hot anger in his eyes: and +turning on his heel he went out, leaving her to put her own +construction on his flash of wrath. +</p> + +<p> +All things considered, it did not displease her. She took +it for indication that her shaft had gone between the joints +of his harness and touched the one weak spot in his seeming +blind content. She was sorry to have hurt him. But, on +the whole, he deserved it. Upon which righteous +conclusion, she went in search of tea. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0305"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER V +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> +"Weak souls are apt to lose themselves in others; whereas it +is in others that the strong soul discovers itself."—MAETERLINCK. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was Christmas Eve. The empty rooms and silent +passages of Bramleigh Beeches were alive with footsteps +and voices and the high clear music of children's laughter. +All the pulses of the staid old house seemed athrob with the +immemorial spirit of the day: that child-spirit of loving +and giving that shines, like a star fallen on a dust-heap, +through all the cynical indifference and vulgarization of our +sophisticated age, even as it shone in the Bethlehem Manger +near two thousand years ago. Lilamani's eager interest in +all that concerned this "Great Birthday and festival of +children-worship" made her husband the more desirous to +show her the traditional English Christmas at its best. +Hence his readiness to invite Clara, that the child element +might be supreme; as indeed it had been ever since the +coming of the "contingent." Rather more so than Nevil +cared about. But he had said little, and devoted himself +strenuously to his first big, complex picture—the meeting +between Rāma and Sita in the hour of victory. +</p> + +<p> +And now the days of fevered activity, of secret preparation, +were at an end. In the morning-room a home-grown +Christmas tree, bedecked to the last parcel, the last tinsel +star, stood alone in the dusk awaiting its brief apotheosis +on the morrow. Windows, doorways, and portraits of +distinguished Sinclairs, bore their yearly burden of evergreens +starred with the living scarlet of holly, the moonlike pallor +of mistletoe. George had not failed to catch and kiss his +alluring sister-in-law under the great bunch in the large +hall with results that plunged the simple-minded soldier in +amazement and dismay. She had thrust him fiercely from +her, cheeks and eyes ablaze, rubbing the desecrated waxen +lobe of her ear as though an insect had stung her: and it +had needed much soothing and explaining from Nevil—who +rejoiced not a little at his brother's discomfiture—to +restore peace. Only in Phillippa's memory the pin-prick +rankled. Not the kiss itself, but his desire of it, his +exceeding readiness seemed to justify a fundamental doubt of +her lover that at times threatened to wreck the "sound +and satisfactory" engagement altogether. +</p> + +<p> +By now the clan was assembled in force; Sinclairs, by +blood and marriage, sixteen in all. No outsider save +Leslie de Winton; her advent the one bitter drop in Lilamani's +present cup of content. Yesterday had brought Nevil's +crowning surprise: Christina, home on a brief holiday at +her brother's expense; an extravagance Jane herself could +not cavil at. For promise of success was in the air. Even +she could doubt it no longer. Cultivated London was +manifestly impressed by the picture at the Goupil Gallery. +Captious and contradictory critics concurred in recognizing +that Sir Nevil Sinclair was no longer to be dismissed with +the kid-glove applause due to a gifted and titled amateur, +but dealt with faithfully as an artist very well worth +watching. Better still, in Jane's regard, had been rumours of a +purchaser; an art patron with a discerning eye for new +talent and a long purse. A week ago rumour had crystallized +into fact. Negotiations were in progress. Hence his +wire to Christina. +</p> + +<p> +And to-day, sitting alone in his studio, smoking the pipe +of reflection while daylight ebbed, he found himself looking +back upon the casual, aimless amateur of ten months ago as +upon another Nevil Sinclair in another life. Ten months; +an infinitesimal fraction of man's allotted time on earth; +yet into them had been concentrated more of real living, +feeling, thinking, and doing than he had known in the ten +years that were as stepping-stones to his appointed goal. +The surprise of it all smote him afresh in meditative +moments like the present. Almost it seemed as if the instant +he set eyes on the Arabian Nights' Princess in her balcony, +the current of destiny had changed its course. Through +her and the love that was her genius, he had found not +merely himself, but a new world and new values. Yet +now—when promise of achievement crowned the twofold joy +of love and possession, the one shadow in his sunlight was +just this small passionate woman who filled so great a space +in his life. +</p> + +<p> +It needed no word of complaint from her, no glaring +social failure or open clash with Jane to convince him that +her new rôle was as ill-suited to her as she to it. Six weeks +of shooting and shooting-parties had tried her sorely; and +Ronald Sinclair's boyish devotion had cost her more than +one jarring scene with Jane, though she had not grasped as +yet the underlying implication. +</p> + +<p> +He in his fashion had been tried by return visits to the +"needless ones." But what would you? He was not the +man to send her forth alone in quest of the British matron +on her native hearth-rug; and in the course of these dutiful +peregrinations from tea-table to tea-table Nevil Sinclair +had perceived more clearly than his wife that not even his +own prestige as one of the county could reconcile Bramleigh +to the fatal Hindu-ness of his girl-wife. For Bramleigh, +being High Church to its kid-glove finger-tips, was disposed +to be more zealous in the manner of correct genuflexions and +the strict keeping of holy days than in fulfilling the law of +love. The former is so much simpler and leaves such a +gratifying after-glow of self-righteousness; while the unloved +brother is too often unlovable to boot. At best Nevil +foresaw kindness tempered with condescension such as the +Rajput spirit of his Lilamani would not brook: nor his own +Anglo-Saxon one either, if it came to that. +</p> + +<p> +The only result, so far, had been a sparse crop of invitations +to dinner; and once or twice, in a dutiful mood, he +had suggested acceptance. Lilamani had looked pathetic +and submissive; Nevil, thankful to spare her, when feasible, +had refused. For himself, he was glad enough not to go. +But, at this rate, what of the future, for her? In the +summer there would be Helen Despard and, when possible, +Christina. Outside these two, if she could not have him, +it seemed that she preferred to be alone. +</p> + +<p> +The modification of their own close comradeship had +been no less unwelcome to him than to her; but his masculine +nature saw it as inevitable, if he were rightly to fulfil +himself as artist, landowner, and husband. The Italian +conditions had a perfection and fitness all their own. They could +be renewed; and should. But they were manifestly incompatible +with the demands of the moment. Even when the +shooting obsession gave place to a renewed zest for work, +there was much in the complex picture now on hand in +which she had no part. The crowded background, being +new to him, brought fresh faculties into play; while his +fastidious eye for grouping and the thematic use of colour +made him untiring in regard to preliminary studies, the +groundwork of all fine achievement. +</p> + +<p> +At this time the week-end brought artist friends in place +of "guns." With these Lilamani had seemed more at her +ease; and Nevil himself had frankly enjoyed picking up +the threads of his lapsed friendship with Leslie de Winton. +Apart from the stimulant of talk with a fellow-worker on +totally different lines, he found Leslie's comments, whether +of blame or praise, singularly illuminating. Once or twice +the two had sat up talking in the studio till near midnight; +while Lilamani lay throbbingly awake with murder in her +heart. Her complete silence, since that first protest, +deceived her husband into the belief that she had accepted the +friendship for what it was worth: and he enjoyed it +accordingly while the mood for mental stimulant was upon him. +</p> + +<p> +At this time he would have dearly liked a short spell in +town. But to leave Lilamani was as yet unthinkable; and +to take her there hardly less so. By way of experiment he +had suggested spending two nights with Broome before +Clara came; Mrs. Broome being away. He had baited the +suggestion with the promise that on Sunday she should hear +a service at the Abbey, and on Monday buy Christmas +presents to her heart's content in a shop full of Indian arts +and crafts. For in the "gift-buying" phase of the Great +Birthday, she could and would take her full share; investing +it, in true Eastern fashion, with a sanctity rarely dreamed +of by professing Christians; and Nevil had need of all his +authority to save her from spending every penny she possessed. +</p> + +<p> +As for that service, in the dim, richly-toned twilight of +the Abbey, it surpassed her most exalted imaginings. Kneeling +beside her husband at its close, in awe-smitten ecstasy, +while sonorous organ music vibrated through all her sensitive +frame, the innately religious heart of her cried out like +Festus, "Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian." Not +to be at one with her husband in so great and vital a +matter hurt her more keenly than he ever guessed; while +yet the ancient wisdom of her race warned her that, if change +so radical could be genuinely achieved, it must neither be +forced nor hurried. And on that morning, in the hush that +fell upon her soul when the music ceased, something within +whispered that in due time the change would come—as +come all great living changes—slowly, imperceptibly, like +the opening of a flower. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; the great church, the great shop were wonderful +exceedingly; each in its own fashion. But London itself—a +monstrous fog-blurred phantasmagoria of life and death, +laughter and tears—that was another matter altogether. +Driving from Waterloo Station through mean streets, +grimed with past fogs and seen through the ochre veil of a +present one, she had clung to her husband's arm as to a +life-belt in mid-ocean, shrinking close against him, frightened, +repelled. To her vivid fancy it seemed that they fared +through some hideous fashion of Hell, through which lost +souls in their hundreds surged aimlessly to and fro. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Nevil, is all this noise and ugliness your so great +city?" she had ventured, after looking for improvement and +finding none. +</p> + +<p> +"Only one unsightly corner of it, at a very unbecoming +time of year!" he had explained, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"And do people really live here, who have choice to live +otherwheres?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Hundreds. Wait till you see Broome's house. +London's not half so black as she looks at first sight, little +wife." +</p> + +<p> +"Not——?" A sudden fear seized her. "But you—would +you ever——?" +</p> + +<p> +"No—I've no such deadly designs!" he hastened to +reassure her. "Of course, I'd enjoy an occasional month +or two in town. But I promised your father I would never +keep you here long, or ask you to live here." +</p> + +<p> +Her sigh of relief spoke volumes. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, wise one! He knew how the wings of my +soul would become crushed—broken in so nightmare a +place." +</p> + +<p> +The two wonder-days that followed were days not readily +to be forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +None the less, on Monday she sped joyfully back to clean +air and grey skies. +</p> + +<p> +"Like a bird escaped from the snare of the fowler!" +Nevil had said, laughing as he lifted her from the landau; +while in his heart he relinquished forthwith the desired +fortnight in town. He would devote himself instead to the +completion of his big picture by the end of the year. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was close on completion now; and, though far from +faultless, he saw that it was good. Yet, as he sat smoking in +the dusk, a shadow clouded the native serenity of his eyes +and brow. +</p> + +<p> +The past week had been a trying one. Neither Clara +herself nor Clara's children were attractive specimens of +their kind; and Sinclair was fastidious to a fault. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lunn wore her air of resigned martyrdom with +ostentation. "They childer," she confided to her ally, +Mr. Barnes, "with their 'can'ts' an' 'wont's' an' their +ever-lastin' muddiness are a deal more trouble in the house than +twenty normals. An' the way her ladyship fags after 'em, +ill or well, gits me altogether." +</p> + +<p> +It "got" her husband also, after another fashion. Almost +he could forgive these undisciplined intruders on his +peace, for the sake of the new Lilamani their presence +brought to light. Her twofold joy in their mere youth, +and in her own opportunity for service, was a lovely thing +to see. All the true womanly charm of her—dimmed of +late by vain strivings to be the thing she was not—shone +out with fresh lustre when seen against the right background. +But man, though reputed more reasonable than woman, is +nothing if not—well, let us say human; and the sudden +preoccupation of this new Lilamani in things other than +himself gave Nevil Sinclair the first real twinge of jealousy +he had known. In her zeal to give the overtaxed widow +some measure of rest she spent herself without stint. For, +as usual, Clara was ailing, even after her month at the sea; +and within three days of their coming, Cissy, aged five, +developed tonsils and a temperature, to Nevil's disgust. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani, armed with a confused jumble of Audrey's +teaching and Mataji's primitive skill, begged leave to nurse +the child: and Clara—amazed at this heaven-sent heathen +cousin-in-law—murmured oh, no, she really mustn't; while +devoutly hoping that she would. Nevil remonstrated in +private. Lilamani looked pathetic; and won the day. +Nevil, half angry, half adoring, had carried Ronald off to +the studio and devoted himself to studies of Rāma for the +ordeal scene; while Lilamani did what she could for her +fractious disobedient charge. +</p> + +<p> +Between Cissy and Christmas parcels and the privilege of +bathing Baby Nevil every night, it had been a hard week. +And though the spirit rejoiced in service, flesh rebelled. +That first cold had led to a second, which left her curiously +tired, with a small dry cough that broke her sleep and stirred +vague apprehensions in her husband's heart. But Cissy +revived; and Nevil welcomed the influx of the clan that would +merge Clara's contingent in the general crowd. +</p> + +<p> +More than all he welcomed Christina, whose love and +understanding of Lilamani came within measurable +distance of his own. It was his hope that her tact and good +temper might serve to mitigate friction with Jane. The +latter had scarce been three hours in the house when some +disparaging comment upon Clara had fired Lilamani to hot +retort; and there had followed as near an approach to a +scene as good breeding on both sides would permit. Nevil, +for once, had spoken sharply to them both, and been at +odds with himself ever since. +</p> + +<p> +Discord, whether in sound, colour, or human relation +jarred the whole nature of the man; and it was this +increasing antagonism between wife and sister that clouded +his brow to-night; the more so since he was honest enough +to recognize that Lilamani herself, though never the +aggressor, was the more implacably hostile of the two. Jane's +friendliness was a rough-cut jewel at best; and her not very +gracious attempts to proffer it had been barren of result. +Mercifully, she had never reverted to the letter; had in fact +almost forgotten it; while every sentence lived poignantly in +Lilamani's brain. If only she had trusted him and left those +cruel words unread, it was at least conceivable that all might +have gone well in time. Devoted as he was, he could +not quite exonerate her from blame, though always he +blamed Jane more for the writing of them; and his own +unthinking carelessness most of all. +</p> + +<p> +Is it one of life's inimitable ironies, or proof conclusive +that accident is not—this growth of tragedy from the +chance-flung seed of careless unthinking acts? There were +moments when it maddened Nevil Sinclair to contemplate +all that those half-dozen lines left in his blotter had brought +to birth; and to-night he bethought him of an appeal to +his wife. Hitherto he had stood aside of set purpose. Even +the name of Jane was tacitly avoided between them. But +the season, with its insistence on peace and goodwill, seemed +to pave the way for speech; and an innate strain of loyalty +to the sister he could not love impelled him to do what lay +in his power. +</p> + +<p> +The odd thing was that he could by no means foresee the +result. At least he knew where to find her at this time of +evening: and rising, squared his shoulders as one resolved +not to countenance defeat. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0306"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VI +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Mine ear is full of the murmur of rocking cradles;<br> + 'For a single Cradle,' says Nature, 'I would give every<br> + one of my graves——'"<br> + ROUMANIAN BALLAD.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The door of the day-nursery stood ajar; his own +day-nursery, the one room in the house where the spirit of +his mother seemed still to linger. He had grudged it not a +little to Dick's unruly offspring. But well he knew how +she would have approved, both the act of fellow-kindness +and her who had urged it—that fragile-sweet wife of his, +who, for all her gentleness, seemed rather to set her impress +on others than to take colour from the enveloping influences +of the West. +</p> + +<p> +As he neared the door a low crooning reached him; +broken wordless music, and gurglings of baby laughter. He +guessed her alone with the "man-child called of his name," +whom she had longed to hold in her arms; and, promising +himself a glimpse of her unseen, went forward lightly, +without sound. A gentle push when he reached the door; and +a long pause while he stood on the threshold scarce daring to +breathe; the artist entranced, the man inly and deeply +stirred. +</p> + +<p> +At the far end of the great dim room she sat, in a mellow +zone of light from the green-shaded lamp on the table at +her side. A flannel apron shielded her silken daintiness; +and on it lay the two-year-old boy in all his pristine rosiness +and roundness, kicking out dimpled legs and stretching +up eager hands to the glitter of gold and glass dangled +above him just out of reach. Rapt, entranced, Lilamani +leaned over him, brow, cheek, and delicately aquiline nose +outlined in light; the curve and tinting of her lifted arm +a picture in itself. Released from strict mourning, she wore +her night-sky <i>sari</i> of betrothal, and the great wood-fire +woke quivering points of light in breast-girdle and armlets, +rings and shining shoes. +</p> + +<p> +A Madonna true to type, was the man's thought. Some +day he would paint her thus, with the mother-worship in +her eyes. And the child——? +</p> + +<p> +A sudden pang smote him. Jane's voice proclaiming her +fervent hope came to him, startlingly clear, across the +intervening weeks. Jane, for whom he had come to speak, +could find it in her heart to wish—to hope——. Now +as then, white-hot wrath flamed up in him. And yet——? +Had he himself——? +</p> + +<p> +"Oh Nevil—I did not hear——!" +</p> + +<p> +An unconscious movement had betrayed him; and her +low voice put questionings to flight. +</p> + +<p> +"Sorry if I startled you," he said, smiling. "I may +come in?" +</p> + +<p> +"Dear lord—what need to ask?" +</p> + +<p> +She glanced from him to the child, and the colour +flooded her face: part shyness, part emotion. It was the +first time he had sought her out in these regions. That +unworthy twinge of jealousy forbade. Even to-night he would +scarcely have come, but for Jane. Well, at least he owed +her one unforgetable moment; and such return as he could +make was very much at her service. +</p> + +<p> +With an undersense of treading on holy ground, he went +forward and stood beside his wife. +</p> + +<p> +"A bonny little chap," said he, looking down at the +jubilant creature that rollicked on her arm. "You'll miss +him when he goes." +</p> + +<p> +She nodded; then glanced up at him, softly content. +"You were wanting me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Am I ever doing anything else worth speaking of?" he +asked with a sudden access of lover's ardour, that quickened +every pulse in her body; and catching his hand that hung +near, she pressed it to her lips. Even after nine months of +marriage this was still almost her only spontaneous form of +caress. There fell a silence. Two cinders clinked on to +the hearth, and the small Nevil chuckled at some private +joke of his own. +</p> + +<p> +"I was meaning—did you want me for special reason?" +she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Well—yes. I'd like a talk in the studio before dinner." +</p> + +<p> +"I also. I will come." +</p> + +<p> +Deftly and quickly she slipped on the small night-things, +untied her apron and rising, stood before him with the other +Nevil clinging about her neck, his petal-soft cheek against +her own. +</p> + +<p> +"Just one minute for putting him in bed," said she. +</p> + +<p> +"No—no!" in commanding tones from the embryo lord +of creation, jigging up and down like a thing on wires; and +she pressed him closer, her lips caressing his hair. +</p> + +<p> +"Little Auntie says yes, O Princeling. And not to cry," +she told him, a hint of authority in her cooing tone that +the child never heard in his mother's and instinctively +obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +Then she passed on to the night-nursery, with the +rhythmical grace of movement that was hers, and the man +stood looking after her with very mingled feelings at his +heart. It annoyed him that he must needs dispel her mood +of mother-tenderness with sententious talk of Jane. He +wanted simply to make love to her, to enjoy their rare +moment alone; wanted it still more when she sped back +to him with flying draperies, and slipped a hand through +his as they went. +</p> + +<p> +Till the studio door closed upon them neither spoke. +Then it was the woman, softly solicitous. +</p> + +<p> +"Dearest, what now? Something troubling you? Difficult +to say?" +</p> + +<p> +And he, pressing the fingers he still held: "Little witch! +How did you know?" +</p> + +<p> +"From your eyes; from your touch of hand," she +answered simply. "True?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, true. Better speak straight and be done. It's +about Jane." +</p> + +<p> +Chin and brows went up ever so slightly, and the gleam +that recalled her father lightened in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"You are still vexed for that? I am sorry. But how +to help being angry? She has no kind feeling when there +is trouble. Her heart is little and dried up like a nut. Oh, +forgive that I speak like that of your sister! But it is +truth. Pity that we must talk of her at this so happy +time." +</p> + +<p> +"A pity indeed. I own I shirked it, as you realized before +I spoke. And yet—isn't this 'so happy time' just the +right moment, Lilamani? My dear little Hindu wife has +been so eager to share the spirit of our Christmas festival; +and the core of it is peace and goodwill. Could you choose +a better time than this for trying to think more kindly of +her?" +</p> + +<p> +"I? Oh Nevil—it is <i>she</i>——!" +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani, ask yourself—is it <i>only</i> she?" +</p> + +<p> +The blue eyes, that were her heaven, looked straightly, +almost sternly into her own; a look that steeped the whole +of her in one burning blush. Yet she returned it bravely +while he went on: "I know her manner is often brusque +and disagreeable to the verge of rudeness, and yours never. +She is hard, unimaginative, everything almost that you are +not. But in her own queer fashion she did try, just at first, +to be friendly with you, for my sake. Did you ever try to +make a shadow of response?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," she answered very low, her voice steady as her +gaze; and for the unadorned directness of that denial he +admired her the more. +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't the door of your heart bolted and barred against +her?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. How shall it be otherwise—ever?" +</p> + +<p> +"But, my darling!" His dismay held a note of reproach: +"You—the soul of tenderness—how can you be +so implacably unforgiving?" +</p> + +<p> +"In our belief there are things it is not good to forgive. +Insult to great race of my father, and cruel wound to you, +lord of my life. Only by chance was it that in my madness +I did not go from you, leaving you without Sita for your +so great pictures. Can inmost heart of me ever forget—ever +forgive?" +</p> + +<p> +The very quietness of her tone intensified its primitive +fierceness of conviction. Before it, he stood speechless, half +in amaze, half in admiration. Here was no pretty child +to be coaxed into good behaviour; but a woman with all her +woman's heart on fire of such strong love and hate as are +the heritage of her emotional race. +</p> + +<p> +Capturing one small clenched hand he drew her nearer. +"Not an easy task," he said gently. "But you have never +tried. Won't you try now, Lilamani, for your lord's +sake—and for the sake of the Great Birthday we shall keep +to-morrow?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Nevil!" She drew a deep breath. "Easy to make +such promise with the lips. But how to keep? Loving and +hating are not any more to be commanded than sun or +sea." +</p> + +<p> +"No; but at least controlled," said he of the West, using +the key-word of his race. "And you have to remember +this, little wife, that although Jane may be harsh and +prejudiced, the real trouble on your side springs from your +having read a letter you were never meant to see——" +</p> + +<p> +She started. "You are still thinking I did wrong by +that?" +</p> + +<p> +"In a sense—yes. But it was a great temptation; and +I blame myself more than all. I hardly realized then what +a proud, fiery-hearted little woman I had to deal with. +But unhappily, the thing's done. You know what Jane +must never guess that you know; and it follows that you +must either be more forgiving or be constantly misjudged +by one who is already prejudiced, and who is, after all, my +sister. I don't want things to come to such a pass that she +shall feel herself unwelcome in my father's house; and this +incessant friction hurts me even more than it hurts either +of you. So you see, it is for my sake I ask you not to go +on cherishing anger, but to give your own tender heart a +chance. Will you try?" +</p> + +<p> +For a long minute she stood silent and very still, but for +the quickened rise and fall of her breast. Even now he did +not feel sure of her answer, till she unveiled her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"King of me—I will try," she said gravely; and the +concession was a bigger one than he realized. "I cannot +promise for succeeding. But because your wish is like +command to me, I will try." +</p> + +<p> +Then, with a swift, enchanting transition from Indian to +English wife, she lifted her lips for the reward that was her +due. +</p> + +<p> +"Now—shall we have a quiet time here till dinner?" +he asked, his arm still round her. "Or have you a hundred +more things to do?" +</p> + +<p> +"Only to fill three small pair stockings in my shrine." +</p> + +<p> +"Santa Claus, masquerading in <i>sari</i> and spangles!" he +said, smiling. "Are the contents a sacred secret? Or may +I come too?" +</p> + +<p> +"Come too." +</p> + +<p> +But as he opened the door of her room, she flew past him +with a little cry: "Oh, I had forgot——!" +</p> + +<p> +The lid of her sandalwood casket stood open, and she +closed it swiftly as he came up. Never yet had he seen its +contents; and knowing her a creature hedged about with +reserves, had refrained from question. But the last few +minutes had brought them very near together; and now, +obeying his natural impulse, he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I ever be allowed to see the treasure hidden in +your holy of holies, little wife? I have often wondered +what it might be, and when you would think me +worthy——" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>You</i>? Oh, dearest—that was never my thought! It +is only—— How to explain? Indian wife has always +some private god for worship; not speaking his name to any, +even to her husband. But now—I am trying also to be +English wife. There comes no priest between us, as often +in India. And—if you are really wishing——" +</p> + +<p> +"I am wishing very much——" he said quietly; and she, +with head reverently bowed, lifted the lid. +</p> + +<p> +It has been said that to overhear the prayer of a man is +to know him; and Nevil Sinclair, looking down upon the +tiny blue image of Babyhood, gold-crowned, with gilded +lute and scroll, had a sense of overhearing the most intimate +prayer of his wife's heart. The primitive simplicity of it +moved him beyond speech; and it was she who broke the +silence, speaking softly with lowered eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"That is Krishna. Him you have read with me in +Bhagavad Gita. That colouring of blue—like sea and sky—is +for symbol of infinite. Scroll is for symbol also, +meaning the Gita; and lute because he was humbly born among +cow-herds, by river Jumna, even like your Christ in that +manger. For us he also is Holy Child, Healer of +World-disease, Shepherd and Lord. Indian mothers are calling +this Baby-image their Gopala, little cow-herd; and to him +we pray always for desire of the heart——" +</p> + +<p> +A pause. Her own heart's desire and secret fear trembled +on the verge of utterance. Never in their most blessed +moments of intimacy had she felt quite so near to him she +worshipped; so certain that he would understand. Secure +in that certainty, she found courage to speak on. +</p> + +<p> +"To him I pray also for the coming—of that other, too +long delayed. And though yet he is not seeming to hear, +surely there will come promise soon." Her voice dropped +a tone; and she spoke as one who consoled him for lack of +that which he needs must crave. "Then you can no longer +feel—I am useless wife——" +</p> + +<p> +"Useless! You—my Sita, my main source of inspiration! +What put such a notion into your head?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing put. It is natural," she answered quietly. +"I am—oh, so glad for the pictures. But they cannot +always be. And then—what use for wife who cannot +command servants, or shoot with gun, or make all kinds of +talk for dinner-table, unless—by giving of that great +gift——" +</p> + +<p> +She could say no more. His arm was round her; his lips +against her cheek. +</p> + +<p> +"My darling, you must never think such foolishness again. +And as for—the other—— All in good time. Why, +you're still almost a child yourself——" +</p> + +<p> +"I am <i>not</i>! I am woman!" she cried out with sudden +vehemence; contradicting him flatly for the first time and +half withdrawing herself from his clasp. And he, looking +back on the past half-hour, knew that she spoke truth. +</p> + +<p> +"You are. Very much so. I spoke thoughtlessly," he +admitted, smiling. "But still—it's full early to be troubling +your head about it. And if it's me you're concerned +for, you may set your mind at rest——" +</p> + +<p> +"You mean, you do not—you have never——?" His +attempt at reassurance chilled her strangely. He seemed +suddenly very far away. "In all these months you have not +thought—have not wished——?" +</p> + +<p> +"Is that very dreadful of me?" he asked, drawing her +closer; puzzled to know what was wrong. "I suppose the +truth is I've been so well content with my Sita Dévi and +the splendid field of work she has opened up for me, that +there has hardly been space for other wishes, other +hopes——" +</p> + +<p> +"Nev—il! Nev—il! Are you there?" +</p> + +<p> +The voice was Leslie de Winton's; and Sinclair felt the +small shiver with which his wife released herself. +</p> + +<p> +"Go now. They are wanting you," she said hurriedly, +as the call came again. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes—I'm coming," he answered impatiently. +Then, to her: "No quiet time, after all, I'm afraid. But +remember, little wife, you're not to brood about me. I'm +in no hurry to share you with anyone; and quite content +with things as they are." +</p> + +<p> +He was gone; and she stood alone beside the open casket, +his final reassurance sounding ironically in her ears. +</p> + +<p> +Nine months married, and neither thought nor desire of +fatherhood had been his! That which was, for her, the sum +and crown of marriage, was for him a mere side-issue. He +was in no hurry for that greatest gift it was her one +desire to give. With no Indian husband could it have been +so. It was the first time she had compared him thus with +one of her own race; had recognized with piercing clearness +that on this supreme subject they must needs speak +and think in different tongues, spiritually; be their hearts +never so close entwined. True, the Hindu sees in his son +not merely the torch of life passed on, but the prime factor +in that complex transaction, the future welfare of his own +soul. Yet even an English husband, for whom wife and +son have less of spiritual significance, must surely crave the +certainty of an heir to carry on his name; the more so +when there are broad lands and an ancestral home, that +must otherwise go elsewhere——. +</p> + +<p> +At this point memory flashed a paralysing sentence +through her brain—a sentence branded there six months +ago, and lightly overlaid with happier things: "A native +mistress at Bramleigh Beeches! Half-caste sons to carry on +the name of which we are so rightly proud——" +</p> + +<p> +It was as though a scorpion had stung her. Could it +be—that he, her King, shared, even in a small degree, his +sister's racial recoil from mixed blood, even of the best? +In the deep of his heart did he dread rather than desire +the price of possession? It would be like him to feign +jealousy of that other, sooner than let her guess——. +</p> + +<p> +Dismay flowed over her like the waters of a cold and +bitter sea. All strength seemed to go out of her. Outlines +wavered. She swayed a little where she stood. And yet—she +could not, she would not so much as harbour the thought. +Loyalty forbade. Nonetheless, did she foreknow that the +hideous thing would return again and yet again to torment +her, whenever the way of life was hard or the wheels of +being low. +</p> + +<p> +Already it shadowed her joy in this great festival of +children-worship. And as she closed the casket two tear-drops +splashed the Baby image of Him on whom all things are +threaded "as gems on a string": that Blessed One, too +preoccupied, it seemed, with the troubles of the orthodox to +heed the secret cry of her heart. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0307"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VII +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Life is stronger than a single soul."—HERRICK.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Rain and wind; wind and rain; rattling at blurred +casements, lashing and battering the patient trees. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani Sinclair, sick in body and soul, lay listening to +the unwearied rush and patter of it in the premature dusk +of a February afternoon; till it seemed as though the +downpour beat upon her bared nerves, and the wind blew chill +through her heart. Now and again the hard dry cough—born +of that first cold and never quite dispelled—shook her +unmercifully, and drove shafts of pain through her head. +Otherwise she lay motionless, with closed eyes, acutely aware +of alternating cadences in the storm without; while images +and sensations drifted to and fro in her brain scarce +coherently enough for thought. +</p> + +<p> +Nominally, she was resting in obedience to doctor's +orders, enforced by Nevil. But true rest implies peace of +mind—a condition neither doctor nor husband could ensure: +and true rest had been far from Nevil Sinclair's wife these +many weeks. Morning and night she felt unaccountably +tired—mind, body, and soul; unable to feel strongly about +anything, even about the pictures, her one supreme link +with the artist and the man. They were nearing an end +now; the last one already on the easel; the private view +fixed for the first week in March. Rejoice though she might +in this his great consummation, for her it meant a break +beyond which she could see nothing plain, save that he must +needs embark on others in which she would probably have +no share. And she—with no life of the Inside, and small +taste still for the mixed social life of the outside—how +would it be with her then——? Unless—unless——? +</p> + +<p> +But no beacon of promise gleamed in that direction. +Nor could she hope and pray with the same whole-hearted +fervour since the cruel instant of illumination in her shrine. +Loyally though she strove against that haunting suspicion, +the pain and dismay that had engendered it still acted like +a bruise under the skin. How long ago it seemed, viewed +across the grey stretch of half-hearted illness and yet more +half-hearted convalescence that lay between. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, pain or no, that Christmas fortnight showed like an +oasis in the winter's uphill stretch of effort, that seemed to +progress at the rate of three steps forward and two steps +back: effort to play her part as Lady Sinclair, more +especially at the dinner-table; effort to ignore sudden sharp +attacks of nostalgia; to still the mother-longing with its +attendant fear; to conquer her jealous hate of Leslie de +Winton and the seemingly established antagonism of Jane. +For Nevil's appeal had been over-long delayed; and though +his wife religiously kept her word, such shy tentative +advances as she could bring herself to make had, as often as +not, passed unregarded. Nor were matters made easier by +a disturbing spell of friction between George and Phil, +which Jane shrewdly guessed to be less unfounded than it +seemed. That episode of the mistletoe had rather stimulated +the man's admiration than otherwise. But, since Phillippa +had her pride, and he his modern remnant of chivalry, +Lilamani's name was tacitly avoided by both. Lady Roscoe +did not doubt for a moment that the disturbance would +fizzle out in time. Phillippa's reasonableness and George's +good sense were surety for that. None the less she hardened +her heart against the unconscious offender; and Lilamani's +reluctant hand knocked, almost unheard, upon a closed +door. +</p> + +<p> +Happily, after Christmas, meetings had been less frequent. +The obsession of the pheasant gave place to the obsession +of the fox, and the three carried the light of their +countenances elsewhere. But there seemed no evading the malice +of the gods. Less of Jane brought more of Leslie de +Winton, who infuriated Lilamani by an almost proprietary +enthusiasm for a subject peculiarly her own. The intrusion of +Janes and Phils, Uncle Bobs and Aunt Julias was as nothing +to the renewal of an intimacy so clearly congenial to +Nevil that his wife could only keep the door of her lips and +suffer the more. +</p> + +<p> +January and February had been months of strenuous +work, interspersed with Bohemian week-ends that had +brought Mrs. Lunn near to despair. But for Leslie +weekends had not sufficed. While the Ordeal scene was in +progress she had frankly begged leave to stay "the clock +round," and her critical, conversational presence in the +studio had made this—the crowning picture of the group—an +ordeal indeed. Above all things Lilamani enjoyed the +atmosphere of quiet while her husband worked. How +could she lose herself in Sita and Sita's tragedy, as she loved +to do, while the slow, strong voice jarred on her nerves, and +the deliberate gaze brooded now on her, now on her lord? +If the physical energy of her sister-in-law had made her +feel ineffectual, how much more so did this artist woman's +breadth and vigour of brain, that matched and challenged +the brain of the man; that also, in some subtle fashion, +made the things of the heart seem childish, the things of +the spirit shadowy and unreal. Worse than all, the dread +conviction grew in her that here was her lord's true mate +of his own race. Did he not guess it now—yet, at any +moment, there might come the knowledge that would wake +him from his "foolish passion outside control of judgment." And +then—then? An end of Lilamani. That was certain. +She would not survive, by so much as five minutes, +the death of his love. +</p> + +<p> +So passionate a drama of jealousy and pain at work +within; and without a smiling acquiescence that did not +altogether deceive her husband. At the week's end he had +apologized, half in jest, for the infliction, adding: "I +know you're not quite in tune with Leslie; but it's been a +real help having her. I find her extraordinarily stimulating. +Always did." +</p> + +<p> +And she—marvelling how he could stand so blindly on +the threshold of knowledge: "If help to your work, you +must not trouble for me." +</p> + +<p> +"I must and I do," he had answered gravely. "Though +you did have Ronald to balance things a bit!" +</p> + +<p> +The words were ordinary enough to be scarce worth +noting, save for the veil of constraint, new as it was +unwelcome, that too often of late had hovered between +them: so slight a thing, that natures less sensitive +had hardly felt it. The trouble was that neither seemed +able to brush it aside. Perhaps Lilamani had yet to learn +that overmuch self-suppression, however heroic, is good +neither for man nor wife, in the more equalized marriage of +the West. She could and did hide from her husband her +remittent attacks of home-sickness, her secret jealousies. +But she could not altogether hide their effect upon her +spirits; and at this time an underlying sense of discord +jarred their daily life; saddening her, irritating him. For +in the last white-heat of inspiration the artist dominated +the man; a passing dominion essential to true creative +achievement. +</p> + +<p> +Now it was he who would fain have recaptured the conditions +of their life on Como; and behold a tired, listless +Lilamani—at moments even a little fretful; her inner self +seeming to keep <i>purdah</i> from her lord. Small wonder if +he gravitated toward the only other woman in any degree +able to supply his need. At this time all thoughts, all +interests that did not concern the pictures were apt to be +ruthlessly swept aside. Only deep down, even in the most +strenuous hours at his easel, lurked the ache of anxiety +about his wife's health. +</p> + +<p> +Her first winter in his country without a climate had +been a singularly unlucky one. A drenching November +and open December had given place to bitter weeks of black +frost with interludes of snow; and now February seemed +determined to outvie March in the matter of gales. That +early morning escapade and the severe cold which followed +it had left seeds of chest trouble, unnoticed at the time. +The excitement of Christmas, following upon over-much +zeal in Clara's service, had culminated in a fresh chill. +Pneumonia supervened; and slight though the attack was, +she had never quite rallied. Doctor Ransome, fussy and +good-hearted, if not a brilliant specimen of his kind, +wrinkled his brow in growing puzzlement over this child +of an alien race, who would have none of the stethoscope, +obviously resented his questions, and in secret watered the +evergreens under her window with his favourite tonic. His +faith in that tonic was invincible as his faith in the British +Constitution; and seeing it fail, he had muttered vaguely of +hysteria and nervous depression, change of air and scene. +</p> + +<p> +This morning he had spoken straightly to Sir Nevil in +his wife's hearing, bidding him get her out of England as +soon as might be, and keep her out of it till spring's smiling +treachery was overpast. Lilamani's heart leapt at the +words. She forgave the old man his questions and his chest +bogey forthwith. But the worried frown on her husband's +brow held her silent. Just at present, he had said, leaving +England was impossible. He would see what could be +done. +</p> + +<p> +Now, while she lay listening to the swish and patter +without, their talk came back to her, and a sudden conviction +glowed in her like a star. India—India! There lay the +one certain cure for mind, soul, and body. To her own +home and people she could not go. But India was a great +land and a wide. The mere sight and smell and feel of +the country would instil new life into her veins. Only ten +days now, and her father would be with them for three +little weeks. Then—if they could all return together——! +If Nevil would but allow——! +</p> + +<p> +She started. His step was on the stair; his hand on the +door. Now for courage to broach her daring request. The +coincidence of inspiration and opportunity lit a spark of hope +in her heart. +</p> + +<p> +But at sight of his face it went out. The clear blue of +his eyes had the veiled, tired look not uncommon after long +hours at his easel; and the set of his brows bespoke irritation +near the surface. Listlessness flowed over her again +like a Dead Sea wave; and she waited for him to speak. +He came close and stood looking down at her. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, little wife, it strikes me you've been mooning up +here quite long enough. Rested—are you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. A little." +</p> + +<p> +Disappointment lent an added weariness to her tone; +and he sighed. +</p> + +<p> +"Only a little. What's come to your natural sparkle, +Jewel of Delight? Sometimes I think you're overdoing the +sofa business. Do, for my sake, try and pull yourself +together instead of drifting limply like a bit of seaweed. +You must know how it spoils everything to have you lying +here day after day, a mere shadow of your true self. Here's +the great end we've both been working for almost in sight; +and really sometimes it's hard to believe you care——" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh Nevil—dear lord!" she broke in, her lips a-quiver. +"Your heart <i>must</i> know, how I am caring. Only some +days there seems no life in me—for anything. You said +once not ever to think—I am useless wife. But now——" +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, Lilamani—I've told you that's all nonsense, +and you must believe it. If you let yourself be hag-ridden +by such foolish notions, you'll end in becoming worse than +useless." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, forgive! It is only—I am ill——" +</p> + +<p> +He caught the appealing hands held out to him and +knelt at her side. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. You <i>are</i> ill, in some vague mysterious way. I'm +hanged if old Ransome seems to know what's wrong. +Perhaps a specialist——" +</p> + +<p> +She shrank into her cushions. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no. Not any more doctor-people, please!" +</p> + +<p> +"But, my dear, you must be reasonable. How can there +be any peace of mind for me till we get you right? And +your father—what will <i>he</i> say if he thinks I've married you +only to kill you by inches——" +</p> + +<p> +"He is too wise to think any such thing. He will understand +how it is difficult at first for Indian-born when all is +so cold—so grey. Oh Nevil——" the concern in his eyes +gave her courage to speak. "There is one thing that can +make me a new Lilamani, better than all doctors and +medicines. It is—when father is going back to India"—she +caught her breath—"if—if we could only go too——" +</p> + +<p> +"India—India?" he repeated the word in amazed iteration. +The idea was more than a surprise. It was a shock. +It recalled too vividly that one experience of the East which +he had no desire to repeat. It also awakened a new fear. +His grasp on her hands tightened. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani, tell me truthfully—is home-sickness at the +root of it all?" +</p> + +<p> +He did not see that the question was a temptation hard +to resist. +</p> + +<p> +"If—if it is ... then <i>can</i> we go?" she breathed, scarce +able to hold eagerness in check. But the set of his lips gave +answer before he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear little wife, can you seriously ask that? Heaven +knows it's hard to refuse you anything, especially at +present. But just consider—with this great house on my +hands—— I thought I made my position pretty clear to +you before Christmas." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—yes." She bit her lip to steady it. "Only I +was hoping—money from that picture——" +</p> + +<p> +"Most of it went to help clear the mortgage. The rest +to meet Christmas expenses and the cost of starting our +little exhibition." +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated; then spoke without looking up. "But for +such a thing as this—my own money——" +</p> + +<p> +"You've been spending that too freely, as it is, on Clara's +children—to say nothing of your own expenses. You +don't realize what it costs to dress a Lilamani in mother-o'-pearl +and night-sky <i>saris</i>, still less what it would cost to +take her out to India——" +</p> + +<p> +She sighed. "Then—then father? He would so gladly——" +</p> + +<p> +"My darling, you are tantalizing yourself to no +purpose," Nevil checked her with a touch of impatience. +"India's impossible—for a dozen reasons. You must just +be plucky and accept the fact." +</p> + +<p> +"You mean—you do not wish——" +</p> + +<p> +She could get no further. Tears streamed down her +cheeks, and sobs shook the whole of her slight frame. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment her husband's arms were round her, his lips +on hers. "My little one—my poor little one! Is it as +bad as all that? Didn't you realize, when we married, +that most probably—you would never see India again?" +</p> + +<p> +"Y—yes." +</p> + +<p> +"And did you mind so terribly—then?" +</p> + +<p> +"N—no." +</p> + +<p> +"Yet now—has England, and the whole life here, been +such an utter failure?" +</p> + +<p> +"No—no!" she clung to him, quivering. "Only—I +could not help for hoping. But—if you do not wish——" +</p> + +<p> +"I wish above everything to get a well and happy Lilamani +back again. I'm so hedged around at present. But +the first minute it's possible we'll get you out of this." +</p> + +<p> +Her light fingers caressed the hair at the back of his neck. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps—Egypt?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. I think not. Give me time to turn things over +in my mind, and I'll do the best I can." He kissed her +again with lingering tenderness. "Now I'm going to dry +your eyes, and carry you down to the studio. I've done +with Rāma for the present, and Broome's there waiting to +lift you out of the flames." Broome had volunteered his +services as fire-god, to the delight of both. "It's an ordeal +by water that my Sita has to win through—eh?" +</p> + +<p> +She laughed and nestled closer, while he dabbed her eyes +with his own handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +"Your Sita is not worthy for going through fire. She is +not enough heroine-made." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite enough to suit her husband! So she need not +trouble her foolish head about that. Now then—ready?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. But—will he have to hold me in arms again?" +</p> + +<p> +"Once more. I haven't got all the lines right yet. You +mustn't mind. He's as old as your father." +</p> + +<p> +"I am willing for anything to help your pictures. It is +only ... I don't like ... other kind of arms." +</p> + +<p> +"No more do I. We're agreed on that point!" And +he gathered her up in his own. +</p> + +<p> +Outside the studio door she insisted upon being set down; +and Broome, looking keenly from one to the other, decided +that a plain fact or two must be submitted to Sir Nevil +Sinclair before they parted that night. Ronald had gone +home after another dream-week in the paradise that held +his Peri. But not until the Peri had been carried off to +bed did the novelist get his chance. +</p> + +<p> +Nevil, returning to finish the evening in the studio, +found his friend standing squarely on the hearth-rug; pipe +between his teeth, smiling determination in his kindly +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Light up, my son, and don't use language if I touch you +on the raw," said he without preamble. "Broome on the +Responsibilities of the Married State may prove worth +listening to." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Lord!" groaned the other, only half in joke. +"Responsibilities were never my strong point. How the deuce +have I been shirking them now?" +</p> + +<p> +Said Broome, shifting his pipe to the corner of his mouth: +"Thy question bewrayeth thee. It tacitly admits a prick +of conscience. As for mine—the Puritanical thing will +give me no peace till I've said my say." +</p> + +<p> +"Fire away, then." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil sank into a chair and opened his cigar-case with a +leisured air of detachment less deceptive than he believed. +The shock of that one word, India, and his wife's unusual +paroxysm of grief had so deeply perturbed him that he had +no mind to speak of it even to Broome, unless in self-defence. +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" he queried, looking up and throwing his match +into the grate. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Is</i> it well, Nevil—there's my question? Is it well with +that exquisite, porcelain wife of yours, who has sacrificed all +that really counts for her on the altar of marriage, and has +given you, not herself only, but"—he waved a hand round +the studio walls—"a new kingdom? Have you asked +yourself yet, point-blank, how it seems likely to work out, +this unique experiment of translating a love-bird from the +tropics into a British barn-door fowl?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil frowned. "No. I've not," he answered bluntly. +"First, because I've no use for a British barn-door fowl; +second, because even the amount of adaptation that is +essential must take time. Though I admit things don't look +as promising as they might." +</p> + +<p> +"My impression exactly. The obvious dissonance with +Lady Roscoe is more than unlucky. And how about the +good folk of the neighbourhood?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought not. Between religion and the Island Pharisee +business there's little hope, in the country, for a human +product not measured in our own workshops and cut out +to pattern. London's another matter. Fish of every shape +and colour have a chance in her seething ocean of +nationalities and types." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. If the fish can live out of water. In London, I +believe Lilamani would die outright." +</p> + +<p> +The older man brooded a moment over that statement. +Then: "Hasn't it struck you, Nevil," said he, "that the +same process may possibly be going on here—at a reduced +rate?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil Sinclair started and paled as if under a blow. +"Good God, Broome! you don't think——?" +</p> + +<p> +Broome's hand closed firmly on his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me, old man. I didn't mean to give you such +a shock. But I see now it's just as well I spoke. You've +been blinding yourself to the obvious; metaphorically bidding +everyone and everything stand aside till the last touch +is laid on, the white fervour of inspiration spent. Oh, I +know it all down to the ground, my dear chap. I've sinned +in much the same fashion myself before the birth of every +blessed book that bears my name. The Lord our God is +a consuming fire, jealous of every impulse but the impulse +to create—and all the rest of it. I don't deny we're +bound to feel that way if the divine spark is alight inside; +and our belongings too often pay the price. But yours is a +very special case, Nevil. Your love-bird of the tropics is +dependent on you for almost everything, in a way that +no English girl would be; and ... well ... May I say +what I think?" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil nodded, without looking up; and, while Broome +spoke on, the formation of a glowing cave between two +blocks of coal photographed itself upon his brain. +</p> + +<p> +"I think," said the novelist with a quiet deliberation not +devoid of feeling, "that of late your wife has grown too +light and too transparent even for a porcelain Princess. +Dr. Ransome must know better than I can the state of her +lungs. But it's my belief that in spite of a devotion to +yourself that is little short of worship, she is eating her +heart out, in secret, for the light and warmth and colour +which are quite as essential to her health of mind and body +as fresh and cold water to yours. I may be wrong——" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil looked up quickly, decision in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite the reverse, old man. You're most confoundedly +right." +</p> + +<p> +He paused; shirking further speech; then went resolutely +on. "I suppose you saw that she seemed rather upset when +I brought her down. Well—she had just told me, for the +first time, that the one certain cure for her would be a +spell of India. Seems she had a notion we might go out +with her father. I can't tell you the shock it gave me to +know the craving was there." +</p> + +<p> +Broome brought his teeth together with an audible click. +"And you refused?" he asked quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear chap, could I do anything else?" Unstrung +by the recollection, he rose and paced the room. "Look +at my position. This exhibition just coming off. The +estate on my hands and that millstone of a mortgage round +my neck!" +</p> + +<p> +"Quite so. Yet—on the other hand, there's your wife's +health in a precarious condition. The trip she craves would +be a certain cure; and the house difficulty's not +insuperable. You could let for the summer." +</p> + +<p> +"At a month's notice! And—the deuce of it is I've +not the smallest wish to leave the old Place just now. I +never guessed what a grip it would get on me once I handled +it myself. But that's beside the mark. The truth is"—he +swung round sharply, hands plunged in pockets—"there's +a bigger obstacle behind. I never meant to speak +of it to a living soul. But you've such a confounded way +with you——!" +</p> + +<p> +For half a minute their eyes held silent conference. Then +Broome spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Well—what is it now? Sit down, my son, and keep +yourself in hand." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil obeyed to the letter; and it was Broome who paced +the room with meditative deliberation, finally coming to a +standstill before the first picture of the nine—Sita clinging +to her lord, imploring devotion in her gaze. +</p> + +<p> +When all was said that Nevil Sinclair could bring himself +to say, of Egypt, of that nameless alienation, and the +struggle to win free of its insidious taint, Broome came +slowly back; laid an extinct pipe on the mantelpiece, and +sat down opposite his friend. +</p> + +<p> +"I see," he said gravely. "And—in a measure—I +understand. Poor Lilamani! It's a serious complication. +You're really afraid a repetition of that might wreck +everything?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm hanged if I know. I can't picture such a thing. +All I'm certain of is that—as yet, I shirk the risk, for both +our sakes." +</p> + +<p> +Broome nodded feelingly. "But the fact of her ill-health +remains. If it can't be the East, it must be the +South, and that speedily." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. She has my promise." +</p> + +<p> +"Good man. As for the Beeches, a highly desirable +'let'—for whose respectability I'll go bail—is sitting not +ten feet from you at this moment." +</p> + +<p> +"By Jove, Broome! D'you mean it—honour bright?" +</p> + +<p> +"As bright as you please! Name your terms." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, as to that—a nominal sum——" +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense! I intend to pay a good fair rental. Since, +by some queer accident I managed to catch the long ear of +the public, I've been raking in more than one man has any +right to possess." +</p> + +<p> +"Glad to hear it. As for me, I'd be thankful to hand +over to you at any price, instead of to a stranger." +</p> + +<p> +"So I thought! And the sooner the better. Why not +Antibes? Miss Hammond's there. Get her father to go +too; and you add to the sweet influences of light and warmth +the greater one of happy association." +</p> + +<p> +"Capital! We'll tell her to-morrow. I want to see her +looking different before Sir Lakshman arrives——" +</p> + +<p> +"M—yes. It would be advisable." +</p> + +<p> +Something in his tone made Sinclair eye him closely. +"What are you thinking now?" +</p> + +<p> +"Merely wondering what he will say to it all. When +fathers love as he and I do their intuitions become +extraordinarily keen." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know about saying. But if he really thought +she was unhappy, I believe he'd be capable of knifing me +straight." +</p> + +<p> +At that Broome's big laugh broke out. "No fear, my +dear boy! But melodramatics apart, I anticipate some +plain speech between the two of you if she looks like this. +In fact, the way things are going now, it strikes me you +will soon have to consider seriously how far you are prepared +to vindicate your great experiment by meeting sacrifice +with sacrifice on a bigger scale than you have contemplated +yet. It's the ultimate test; and in your complicated case, +may prove a severer one than you realize." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil watched the roof of his glowing cavern crumble. +Then he drew a long breath. "I'm beginning to realize +it now," he said slowly; and the coals fell together with a +soft crash. +</p> + +<p> +Broome reached for his pipe. The artist rose, and going +over to his unfinished picture stood before it lost in thought. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0308"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VIII +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "Love leaps higher with her lambent flame<br> + Than Art can pile the faggots."<br> + E. B. BROWNING.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The seventh of March in the year of grace 189- stands +out as a red-letter day in the annals of the house of +Sinclair. For on that day Sir Nevil—long tacitly written +down failure and renegade from historic traditions—made +triumphal entry into the kingdom of his choice. Not the +type of kingdom precisely befitting a Sinclair. But, before +the day was out, Jane, Lady Roscoe, could perceive that +her brother stood on the threshold of a unique success. +And success is the golden calf of the West; worshipped +indiscriminately whether it spring from an inspired group of +pictures or a patent hair-wash. +</p> + +<p> +All practical arrangements for the private view had been +made by Cuthbert Broome, that Sinclair might not be +obliged to leave his wife, or bring her to town a moment +sooner than need be. It was Broome also who offered +house-room to Sir Lakshman, Martino, and Leseppes; +Nevil and Lilamani feeling bound—sore against their +will—to accept the dutiful invitation of Jane. On such an +occasion, her brother's rightful place was in Grosvenor +Square. Mr. Broome, whose unwarrantable offer to "rent" +the Beeches still rankled, was welcome to do all the rest. +The which he did. A small gallery in Leicester Square +had been chartered; Ramayāna pamphlets printed, and +invitation cards dispatched to a picked number of artists, +art-critics, relations, and friends, bidding them to the said +Gallery, where Sir Nevil and Lady Sinclair would be At +Home, from three to five. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +They were At Home there now. Eighty or so of London's +social and intellectual elite sauntered, paused or sat about +in groups; the low-toned murmur of talk merged in the +subdued harmonies of an invisible string band. Those who +had ears to hear discerned in the music—carefully chosen +by Nevil himself—a subtle fitness to the epic drama present +before their eyes: a drama that evolved from the heart +of a nation not yet arrived at self-consciousness; and for +near two thousand years has retained its power to mould +the characters and ideals of a race still unpractical enough +to set soul before body, heart before head. +</p> + +<p> +Straight out of the thin, fugitive spring sunshine and keen +wind, the unresting clamour of London streets, they had +stepped, these complex men and women of the West, into +an atmosphere charged with the idealism and the passion, +the subtlety and barbaric simplicity of the ancient East. +Individuals, egoists, products in varying degree of the +modern competitive struggle for existence, they found +themselves drawn into the core of India's greatest love-story, +builded upon a twofold ideal of duty, fulfilled to the +uttermost; of the Queen to her lord; of the King to his people. +For although no magic of line and colour could portray the +mutual recrimination, the spiritual tragedy of the aftermath, +Lilamani had recounted it in the pamphlet, writ by herself, +in her own quaintly characteristic English; desiring, above +all, that none might miss the typical Eastern culmination, +wherein every silent hour of Sita's undeserved banishment +speaks, louder than words, the wife's acquiescence in her +husband's will. +</p> + +<p> +Along the western wall were ranged six full-size panel +pictures, the more arresting for their simplicity, for the +entire subordination of effective superfluities to one supreme +idea—the proving, through ordeal upon ordeal, of a pure +and noble soul. +</p> + +<p> +One only, of all the six, held more than two figures; and +in each—whatever its outstanding qualities of emotion, +workmanship, colour—the eye rested inevitably on Sita's +face. Sita regally arrayed, pleading for her rightful share +in the fulfilling of the old King's vow: Sita (Princess no +longer) in primitive coat of bark, stepping with subdued +elation through Dandak forest; Rāma, the path-finder, going +before; Lakshman, soul of chivalry, following after. +Sita, alone in the forest hut, amber-robed and lotus-crowned, +awaiting the brothers' return; all her listening, +longing soul in her eyes, while the stealthy ash-smeared +figure creeps near through the dusk. Sita, terror-struck, +yet fighting for dear life, in the ogre-king's embrace. Sita +prostrate in the fiend-haunted garden, "a pool with all her +lilies dead": and at the last Sita, revived in heart and hope, +bestowing on the monkey-general her token of unsullied +wifehood—the jewel that was her father's wedding-gift. +</p> + +<p> +In these six scenes, linked together by Lilamani's printed +record one phase of the Epic stood revealed; while upon +the eastern wall three larger and fuller canvases +portrayed the culmination of Sita's proving after the defeat +and death of Ravān. In these three scenes—poignant, +terrible, triumphal—played out against the living background +of Rāma's victorious army, Nevil Sinclair proved +himself master of the more complex grouping, the larger +theme, while yet the queenly, appealing figure of Sita +remained supreme. Here, too, the subdued colouring of the +earlier pictures gave place to an appropriate effulgence of +barbaric splendour, an orchestration of regal harmonies, red +and purple and gold. +</p> + +<p> +It was the first of these three—the meeting of husband +and wife before two assembled hosts—that drew and held +the elite of the art world among Sinclair's guests. Here, +murmurs of criticism, or appreciation, died into the higher +tribute of silence; and here again—for all the fine portrayal +of Rāma's mute denunciation and Lakshman's pain, +the tense expectancy of waiting hosts—it was the figure +of Sita, royally dight in crimson robe and wreath, that +stirred heart and imagination and checked the futilities of +speech. Unveiled for the first time,—proud yet visibly +shrinking—she stood, one woman alone in a world of men, +with eyes for none but Rāma; and in those eyes the dawning +of a tragic recognition that here was no kingly welcome, but +insult such as no true Indian wife could endure and live. +</p> + +<p> +"Believe it or not, <i>mon ami</i>, that one canvas alone would +suffice." It was the voice of Leseppes, low and confidential, +in Sir Nevil Sinclair's ear; and grasping his arm, the great +man drew him away from the charmed circle of silence. +"Did I not tell you—I, myself? I am not one that looks +through tinted glasses. What I said in Cadenabbia—you +remember? 'You shall stir the blood even of those colossal +Philistines, your own countrymen.' See them now before +that picture—even those that have all the dictionary of art +in their finger-ends. Proof enough that you have moved +something bigger than the brain. Your father-in-law is +satisfied, h'n?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Oh, yes." +</p> + +<p> +The restraint of the Englishman was strong upon Nevil +in this his hour of atonement for the locust-eaten years; +and the Frenchman as much elate with his own perspicacity +as his pupil's justification thereof. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bein</i>! How else? To me it seems that within this +hundred feet or so of space you have presented the very +essence of that India to which you owe your inspiration, +together with your wife." +</p> + +<p> +And it was so. The critical eye of the Frenchman +saw plainly that here was no mere triumph of anecdotal art, +scorned by an impressionistic age. Sinclair had imbibed +the spirit of the Ramayāna through the spirit of his wife. +In these his pictures, as in the Epic itself, the story, with +all its subtle analysis of motive, its barbaric opulence of +colour, served as background, merely, for the proving and +revealing of a woman's soul, triumphant in purity and +renunciation: twin kernels of the Hindu faith. +</p> + +<p> +Not the pictures alone, nor the haunting minor music, +but the whole long room, was imbued with the glow and +glamour of the East. Costly rugs and hangings, quaintly +carven chairs inlaid with ivory, on the temporary dais +where Lady Sinclair received her guests, had come over +from India with Sir Lakshman, that the harmony of the +subject and setting might be complete. By Lilamani's wish +gold was everywhere the prevailing colour: and she herself—in +the midst of sober black coats and the half tones of +early spring—flashed like a living ray of sunlight: all gold, +from veiled head to shining feet; save for the aquamarines +on her breast, and the gleam of sapphire and emerald in the +minutely-jewelled border of a <i>sari</i> the most regal she had +ever worn. +</p> + +<p> +For the sake of Nevil and that dear father, from whose +keen insight little could be hid, she had made a last +determined effort to shake off the paralysing listlessness that +clouded her clear spirit and hung like a weight upon her +limbs. In a measure will had triumphed. But the strain +and the supervening excitement had taken their toll of her; +so had three days in London, though no longer an ochreous +nightmare of lost souls. +</p> + +<p> +To-day her heart veered between overwhelming shyness +and overwhelming pride. The unnatural brightness of her +eyes, the dusky glow in her cheeks, illumined her like a lamp. +Yet Sir Lakshman, listening courteously to Lord Roscoe's +polished turns of phrase, found eyes and mind wandering +incessantly to the small regal figure in the throne-like chair. +For him, no passing illumination could gloss over the fact +that she was thinner. The fine lines of nostrils, nose, and +brow were just perceptibly sharpened, and purplish brown +shadows ringed her eyes. Was she well? Was she happy? +Or had this notable young Englishman, with the acquisitive +instinct of his race, taken all—devotion, inspiration, +fame—and given little in return? To such questions her +lightly-closed lips would vouchsafe him no answer. That he knew. +In eleven months of marriage his child had become woman, +and he must needs accept the veil between. None the less, +before returning to India, he would make very sure——. +</p> + +<p> +"It is remarkable—most remarkable, in a poem of that +era, the mingling of purely epic and barbaric qualities with +an insight, a psychological subtlety peculiarly modern——" Lord +Roscoe's well-bred voice at his ear reminded him that +now was not the moment for anxious brooding over the +daughter of his heart. +</p> + +<p> +For the moment she sat alone, glad of a brief respite even +from the friendly volubilities of Martino, who had gone off, +on compulsion, with two brother-artists to give his opinion +on a disputed point. For an hour and more she had endured +an unceasing flow of small talk, compliments, bewildering +intellectualities and genuine enthusiasm that set her head +buzzing and left her hands uncomfortably cold. Here, in +this vast, seething London, always agape for some new thing, +was no sign of Bramleigh's nervous shrinking from the +unorthodox, the unusual. Artists, art-critics, minor planets +of the social system, all were eager for more than a passing +word or two with the living Sita, who, until quite lately +had been "a genuine <i>purdahnashin</i>." Glad for Nevil's +sake, she had yet found this avalanche of appreciation a +little overpowering. It had left her small chance of talk with +her real friends, whose joy in Nevil's achievement almost +equalled her own. +</p> + +<p> +From her too-prominent seat of honour she sought them +out in the thinning crowd below. Broome on a centre +seat, beaming alternately at Morna and Christina, who +talked eagerly across him. Clara, in the flowing grey +gown that was her own gift, nervously pleased and important, +clinging to the arm of Rāma, who obviously longed +to escape. Lilamani did not guess how the longing +concerned Sita and a cup of tea; nor how Clara, in her foolish +pride, had been chattering of two sonnets discovered in her +son's rooms, that also concerned Sita, minus the cup of tea. +Nevil she spied with Leslie de Winton, in the group +Martino had joined, before the terrible scene of Sita's +abduction; considered by some of the younger men the finest +thing in the room. Lady Roscoe, on the other hand, +pronounced it repulsive and unnecessary; tried not to be aware +of it, and failed altogether. Look where she might, +uncomfortable sensations assailed her. The "native element" +jarred; and there was far too much primitive, unvarnished +emotion in the air to suit her taste. It was more than +satisfactory, of course, to feel that at last, by some mysterious +accident, Nevil, the impossible, stood on the threshold +of distinction. But satisfaction was marred by private +worries; and the whole atmosphere of the place set her +Philistine bristles on end. A set of vigorous hunting pictures +would have been infinitely wholesomer and pleasanter, +infinitely more in keeping with the name of Sinclair, than +this theatrical farrago of abductions and ordeals by fire! +</p> + +<p> +She had avoided the dais so far; but Lilamani caught +sight of her now, in sober purple and ermine, standing with +Phillippa near the Hanuman scene, deep in earnest talk that +clearly did not concern the picture before them. Once or +twice they glanced in the direction of George, who stood at +the opposite end of the line, hands clasped behind him, +gazing abstractedly at the upturned face of Sita pleading with +her lord. +</p> + +<p> +To Lilamani, George still seemed little more than a +friendly big dog to be patted and smiled upon because he +belonged to her husband; and George absorbed in a picture +was a contradiction of terms. She amused herself now with +speculating on the nature of his thoughts that must surely +have drifted miles away. It did not occur to her that he +was absorbed in no picture, but in the face and figure of a +woman rendered almost living by the magic of Nevil's +brush. +</p> + +<p> +Possibly her thought drew him, as thought will. Certainly +he turned; and seeing her alone made straight for +the dais. +</p> + +<p> +"Great luck catching you like this even for a minute," he +said with his Sinclair directness. "I thought I should never +get a look in. I'm nobody to-day!" +</p> + +<p> +"How nonsense!" She smiled indulgent reproof as at a +child. "You are just so much 'George' as other days!" +</p> + +<p> +"But you're not a bit the same Jewel. In that ripping +frock you look more than ever like a Princess out of a fairy-tale. +And I tell you, that first picture's a stunning portrait. +I must get old Nevil to have it photographed for my benefit. +Now—do come and have a cup of tea." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well." +</p> + +<p> +But as she rose, behold Jane confronting them, with the +militant gleam in her eyes that Lord Roscoe had learned +to respect. +</p> + +<p> +"One minute, George. Phil's had enough of this. She +wants to exchange some books before going home." +</p> + +<p> +George's scowl emphasized the likeness between brother +and sister to a remarkable degree. +</p> + +<p> +"And I'm one of the books she wants to exchange—eh?" +he asked, with a gruff attempt at a laugh. "Phil's +quite capable of facing a librarian without an escort; and +I didn't suppose she'd be keen on mine to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear boy, don't talk nonsense. Go and call a +hansom. She'll be ready in a minute." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh well—if it's General Orders——! But I don't +suppose she's in a mortal hurry; and I want to give Jewel +some tea." +</p> + +<p> +"George——!" Lady Roscoe remonstrated sharply under +her breath; then checked herself and stood on guard, while +two cups of tea and two sandwiches were swallowed in +comfortless haste. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani, puzzled beyond measure, was thankful when +George put his cup down and gripped her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Sorry I'm obliged to run off like this; and a thousand +congratulations on a stunning good show. I couldn't have +believed old Nevil had it in him. But he's had all the luck +going, this last year." +</p> + +<p> +His eyes lingered on her a moment in open defiance of +Jane. Then he was gone: and, in the silence that fell, Lord +Roscoe's even voice could still be heard drawing abstruse +comparisons between Homer and his contemporary, Valmiki, +hermit and singer, who enriched the national life of India +by the story of Rāma and his Queen. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani spoke first. +</p> + +<p> +"Anything gone wrong—with George?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. He's making a fool of himself all round. But we +can't talk of that here." +</p> + +<p> +Lady Roscoe scrutinized her sister-in-law for a few +seconds, and decided afresh that her dress was far too +conspicuous for good taste; then she added in the tone of +schooled friendliness Lilamani knew too well: "You're +beginning to look fagged, my dear. If you want to be +fresh for the dinner to-night, and fit for travelling +to-morrow, you'd better come straight home in the brougham +with me. All the best people have gone. Kit can very +well play hostess for Nevil's artist friends, and give you a +chance to lie down before you dress. I know you're glorying +in it all. But be sensible, for once, and come away with me." +</p> + +<p> +Command lurked beneath the conciliatory flow of words, +and Lilamani—puzzled and a little reluctant—felt too +tired to resist. +</p> + +<p> +"I am quite ready for being sensible for once!" she +said, forcing a smile. "If he is really not needing me." +</p> + +<p> +"Come and ask him yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well." Crossing over to Sir Lakshman she touched +his arm. "I am going now, Father—for a little rest." +</p> + +<p> +"Very wise, my child. You look to need it," he answered, +laying a hand over hers and deliberately searching +her face. "We meet again soon—for this great dinner!" +</p> + +<p> +And she passed on. The great dinner—given by Broome—was +to be a private one at the Carlton; a gathering of +choice spirits to give Nevil and his wife a hearty "send-off" +and drink long life to the Ramayāna Exhibition. +</p> + +<p> +They found Nevil in the thick of an argument with +Martino on the link between motive and art. He commended +Jane's wisdom, while privately wondering at it. +Lilamani wondered also; the more so that her over-sensitized +nerves divined hostility in the air. But not until +they reached the drawing-room door and she turned to +escape did the true inwardness of Jane's manœuvre come to +light. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't run away at once, Lil. I want a talk with you +first," said she; and Lilamani winced, as always, at the +anglicized mutilation of her name. +</p> + +<p> +"I came home for rest," she objected, without her usual +spirit. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I won't keep you long. But it's important. +There's tea in there. One never gets any worth speaking +of in a crowd like that." +</p> + +<p> +Clearly resistance was useless. When Jane meant to have +her way she usually had it. Nor did she waste time in +beating about the bush. An arm-chair and a cup of tea were +the limit of her concessions to Lilamani's weakness. Her +speech was straight and plain. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course it's about George. You asked what was +wrong. But you must know as well as I do——" +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani started, and set down her cup. +</p> + +<p> +"I? How do you mean?" she asked blankly, and Jane's +vexation flashed out. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear innocent! I suppose you're aware that he +admires you?" +</p> + +<p> +The frank statement fired Lilamani's cheeks. "I know +he is very kind—almost like real brother. Only sometimes +he ... he troubles me with his eyes. But if you are so +bad of heart to think ... because of that ... he..." +</p> + +<p> +"For goodness' sake, child, give me a chance to speak. +George is a gentleman and a Sinclair. I'm not suspecting +him of anything more serious than a passing fascination for +a new type; and that's hard enough on Phil. But she's +most reasonable; most sensible. And though Nevil says I +'make friction,' I'd have let things alone if George hadn't +been fool enough, yesterday, to talk airily about running over +to Antibes for Easter. Phil says she told him plainly that +if he went their engagement would be at an end; and +they've scarcely spoken since——" +</p> + +<p> +"But Jane——! How to break so sacred thing?" +</p> + +<p> +Lady Roscoe waved aside the futile question. +</p> + +<p> +"This isn't a treatise on racial customs. Still—you can +take it from me that, in England, we've good sense enough +to consider an unsuitable marriage much more disastrous +than a broken engagement. But this one is not unsuitable; +and it shan't be broken off if I can help it. Women may be +over-plentiful. But not girls like Phil, plus five thousand +a year." +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani did not quite see the connection of this last. +The whole subject jarred her fastidious sense of reserve; +and she could not be expected to perceive that it really was +rather trying, for Jane, to find this insignificant Hindu child +upsetting the whole of her sacred Family. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope there will come no such trouble," the Hindu +child murmured, with a touch of constraint. +</p> + +<p> +"Hoping's no use. I want facts. Has he mentioned this +last bit of folly to you? Have you encouraged the idea? +Perhaps—with your queer 'sisterly' notions, you've been +asking him to come——" +</p> + +<p> +"I—oh, what are you saying? What shall I, who am +wife, have to do with coming and going of—other men?" She +rose abruptly; pulses hammering at her temples and +in her throat. "With us it is insult to make any such +suggestion; and for—for other kinds of foolishness, how +can <i>I</i> help——" +</p> + +<p> +"That's for you to answer. I know <i>I</i> could"—which +was true enough. "No right-minded woman fascinates +men promiscuously without knowing it; and if you go on +at this rate, there'll always be trouble." +</p> + +<p> +"At what rate?" Lilamani murmured blankly; and Jane, +extinguishing her with a glance: "Don't ask childish +questions, but listen to me. It's not only George. There's +Ronald writing sonnets to your eyebrows—or some such +foolery—by way of being violently original. But Nevil's +to blame for that. I'm only concerned for George. If +he talks to you of coming out——' +</p> + +<p> +"He will not talk," Lilamani retorted with sudden anger. +"He is not like you think. Only friend. But now all that +is spoilt, by your saying such things. I do not wish even to +see him——" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Lil, do sit down. Heroics are futile and bad +form." +</p> + +<p> +Jane spoke more placably, perceiving she had gone too +far. But Lilamani shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"I am tired, and do not wish to hear any more. If you +have more to speak you can tell it to Nevil——" +</p> + +<p> +"Nevil, indeed! much use talking to Nevil to-day about +mere human beings! He'll be hopelessly in the clouds." +</p> + +<p> +"Better that, than to be in such ugly kind of mud as you +have pushed me in now." +</p> + +<p> +"What nonsense, my dear. That's just your Eastern +trick of exaggeration. I'm a practical woman of the +world; years older than you; and when I see things going +wrong in the family all on your account, I have every right +to speak. If you were not so spoilt and so unreasonable, +you would take it in good part, and Nevil need not be +bothered at all. But really you two haven't an ounce of +common sense between you!" +</p> + +<p> +"For that I am glad and thankful from my inmost soul," +Lilamani made answer with heartfelt fervour of conviction; +and was gone. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Alone in her room, she pressed cold fingers against her +throbbing temples and flaming cheeks. Then flinging herself +on the sofa, she lay chilled and rigid with burning head; +her thoughts a chaotic mingling of Epic India, Nevil's +triumph and her own renewed hatred of Jane. Foolish? +Perhaps. But her health was far from normal. It had +been a day of strain; and That Terrible's sacrilegious +hand upon her sanctities seemed more than she could endure. +</p> + +<p> +At the approach of Nevil's footstep she sat upright—waiting. +</p> + +<p> +From the rhythm of it she pictured him bounding up, +schoolboy fashion, three steps at a time; and his face, when +the door opened, confirmed her vision. Dazzled by the +day's triumph he saw nothing, for the moment, but the +radiant figure that throughout had been the lodestar of his +eyes and mind. +</p> + +<p> +"Rested already? Good!" was his cheerful greeting. +Then he came quickly forward, closing the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my Sita Dévi—it's been a supreme day! And +I've come to lay all my laurels at the feet of the Queen. +You won't allow me near you in public. Now I claim +atonement to the full!" +</p> + +<p> +Laughing, he knelt before her and bowed his head upon +the hands that lay in her lap. +</p> + +<p> +At the touch of them he started and looked up. +"Darling—you're ice-cold. And your cheeks are on fire. I +thought Jane took you home to rest." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. But first she was telling me cruel things—to +me like insult—how I am making trouble in your family; +breaking betrothal of George——" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>You</i>? So that was at the bottom of her sisterly +concern. I might have known! That engagement was of +Jane's making. If anything goes wrong it's her look-out. +You—indeed! Was she unkind?" +</p> + +<p> +"No—no. Only she is not understanding how, for +Hindu wife—oh, Nevil! Rather would I go back in strictest +<i>purdah</i>—even from men-folk of husband's family——" +</p> + +<p> +A fit of coughing shook her; and he, tenderly masterful, +laid her back among the cushions, covering her with a quilt. +</p> + +<p> +"You stay there and shut your eyes <i>and</i> your mind!" +he commanded, with a lightness he was far from feeling. +"Leave Jane and George to me; and don't give the matter +another thought. That's <i>hukm</i>—d'you hear! I want you +to be at your very best to-night. Sir Lakshman seems +bothered about you as it is; and we don't want fresh trouble +in that quarter—— Oh, confound it all!" he broke out +desperately. "She might have let you alone, to-day, of all +days, that ought to have been one of unclouded happiness——" +</p> + +<p> +"But King of me"—she clung to his hands—"I am +happy in spite of all. Heart and spirit are singing in the air +like birds. Only this stupid body, so strangely without +life—like a flower faded and thrown in the dust." +</p> + +<p> +"A very brilliant and beautiful flower," he said softly, +and passed a slow, soothing hand over her from shoulder to +ankles. "It will never be thrown in the dust while I'm +alive." +</p> + +<p> +Her lids fell almost before he had ceased speaking. Yet +still he stood over her, watching intently. +</p> + +<p> +With the swift approach of sleep the whole delicate face +relaxed its tension. Lips drooped at the corners, shadows +under the lashes seemed to darken; and the curve of the +cheek was unmistakably less perfect than on the day he +sketched it first: significant trifles to the eye of love. +</p> + +<p> +A haunting remark of Broome's returned to trouble him. +"Of course I know you must wait. But the deuce of it is +that you can't bargain with the ghostly sisters to 'go slow' +while an insignificant human completes an insignificant +fragment of his life's work." +</p> + +<p> +Bargain or no—there remained a fundamental reliance +on the Great Unseen, strangely intensified by eleven months +of union with this Hindu wife of his: and leaning above +her now the man's heart breathed a broken prayer that she +might not slip away from him on the threshold of achievement. +</p> + +<p> +Then he went softly out, bent on speaking his mind to +Jane, with a directness that for once should outrival her +own. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0309"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IX +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> +"O greying of my dawn, suspiring into rose: O grey veils of +dusk, that obscure the tender flushing of my dawn!"—FIONA McLEOD. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +At a small deal table, set across the oval window of her +third-floor bedroom, Audrey Hammond sat writing. +It was the selfsame corner room where they had all drunk +tea with Signor Martino in the far-off beginning of things. +And now—only four days ago, they had been shocked and +saddened by a letter from Broome announcing his death. +It transpired that sooner than miss Nevil's hour of triumph, +he had come straight from a sick-bed, in defiance of doctor +and sister. And within two weeks the most murderous +month in the English calendar had done its work. +</p> + +<p> +To-day, on the deal table that had once been sticky with +his paints, Audrey Hammond's books and papers, and a +photo or two, were set out with mathematical neatness. +Her hand moved steadily over the ruled page. The lines +of her intent face had been graven deeper by a year's leave +that had brought her little of holiday or enjoyment, much +of struggle and pain. She had believed the pain dead and +buried, the emotion that caused it atrophied by stern +disregard of its existence, until she met Sir Nevil Sinclair and +his wife at Antibes Station a week ago. The night or +two at Bramleigh had not been achieved: and on that day +of arrival she had discovered, as do all who suffer, that +though love and pain be buried never so deep, they die +hard—if they ever die at all. For are they not twin seeds of +the tree of life? And a seed, though it come not to fruition, +remains, for an incredible time, a vital spark in darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Three days from now, the s.s. <i>Arabia</i>, outward bound, +was due to leave Marseilles, with Sir Lakshman and Audrey +Hammond on board. Only three days. On the whole, +Audrey would be glad when they were over; still more +glad to take up regular work again. She was at work now, +completing an article on nerve crises for a semi-scientific +magazine; her fair hair neatly coiled and brushed back +as of old, a deep furrow of concentration between her brows. +She wore a blue flannel dressing-gown and her bare feet +were thrust into slippers. For it was early, very early: +a dawn of lucent stillness was stealing over Golfe Juan +after a night of sudden tempestuous wind and rain. A last +lowering mass of storm-cloud low in the east threw all the +bay into gloom. The near hills above Cannes loomed +purple-violet. Yet, away in the north, day triumphed on +far-off ice-fields and glimmering peaks. +</p> + +<p> +But Audrey Hammond's eyes looked inward rather than +outward. The storm had banished sleep and left her at the +mercy of importunate thoughts: importunate, because—when +not definitely in harness—they were apt to fall back +upon those two; the sole human beings who had ever deeply +and lastingly disturbed her equipoise, or, in her own phrase, +knocked her off her centre. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani, wife and budding woman, was still for her +"the child" of an earlier day; lovable and gently intractable +as ever behind her delicate, impenetrable veil of reserve. +This last Audrey understood. She knew enough of the +Hindu wife not to expect the sort of confidences that might +have been bestowed upon her by an English girl-wife of +nineteen. On the whole she was thankful to be spared. +But she was not altogether happy about Lilamani; and she +suspected that Sir Lakshman was not happy either. More +than once he had asked her searching questions about +lungs and nerves; and Audrey, being honest by nature, had +not quite succeeded in setting his heart at rest. As regards +individual suitability and devotion the marriage was a +manifest success; manifest enough to humble the pride of the +girl who, in secret, had believed herself the more fitting mate +for this man of her own race. But in Lilamani's case the +secondary considerations of family and country counted for +much. How had she fared with Lady Roscoe, and her +large, yet, in a sense, narrow circle of sporting and political +friends? What of the neighbours round Bramleigh, and +her position as mistress of a great house? +</p> + +<p> +Little could be gleaned from Lilamani. She grew restive +under questioning, and Audrey drew her own conclusions. +In the matter of her health, this doctor-woman had less need +to rely on question. Her quick medical sense detected +incipient lung trouble and nerves overstrung either from +repression or strain; and conscience urged her to speak a word +of warning to Nevil before the last day. No easy task, +even for one who had scaled the steeps of stoicism. And +yet another vital discovery made speech more difficult still. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani's shadowed eyes, slightly sharpened features, and +her fainting fit on the night of arrival, indicated a hope +that would probably readjust altogether her state of body +and mind. She wondered whether the child realized things +yet; wondered still more what, precisely, was Nevil's +attitude toward this, the crux of intermarriage between East +and West. She approached Lilamani's husband discreetly, +even in thought. Since she could not think of him +dispassionately her scrupulous conscience bade her refrain from +thinking of him at all. But on this particular point she +had always held strong opinions common to the majority +of her race. Her own feelings apart, this, the inevitable +consequence, had been her main argument against the marriage: +and, at the time of the engagement, it had seemed to +her quite in keeping with Nevil, as she knew him, to snatch +impetuously at the desire of his heart, without looking—or +perhaps without choosing to look—the more complex issues +frankly in the face. +</p> + +<p> +But Nevil, as she knew him then, had seemed little like to +develop so swiftly into the restrained and purposeful Nevil +of to-day. The fact that a year of marriage had wrought +more perceptible change in the man than in the girl-wife +eleven years his junior was, for Audrey, the most unique +and interesting factor in the whole situation. It had been +natural to wonder what would be the effect on Lilamani of +marriage with an Englishman and close contact with the +ways of the West; and lo, it was he who had taken colour +from her. His hyper-civilized brain and soul appeared to +have acquired not inspiration only, but a new grip on all +things, from contact with the elemental strength and passion +underlying her surface pliability. Would Nevil, man and +artist, have so developed, so triumphantly found himself, +after a year of marriage with her—Audrey? On that +inadmissible question she sternly slammed the door; and fell +back upon her former wonderings. Did the child realize——? +And did he——? +</p> + +<p> +One thing was certain. For all her devotion, she had +something very much on her mind. Something that concerned +her husband; and, in her present state, brooding was +the worst of evils. She would be certain to exaggerate +trifles, to distort simple facts. If only she would speak——! +Invariably Audrey's thoughts came back full circle upon +that paralysing "if"—— +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +And, unguessed by her, the same refrain was, at that very +hour, disturbing the mind of Sir Lakshman Singh, who sat +sipping his early cup of tea by the open French windows of +his first-floor room. Far better even than Audrey Hammond +did he understand and appreciate the wifely loyalties +and reticences of his child. But he argued that her case +was exceptional, that his own responsibility, in regard to the +great experiment, privileged him to fuller assurance than he +had yet received that she had not bought her heart's desire +at too great a price. Finally, he knew that he could not +leave her again indefinitely till his doubts had been set at +rest. Not her reserve alone, but her manner of evading +question, drove him to mistaken inferences, which might +have been dispelled by more open speech. +</p> + +<p> +This brief reunion, so ardently longed for, had proved +singularly disappointing on the whole. He had spent ten +days at Bramleigh and five in London; had spoken little +and noted much that gave him food for anxious thought. +In spite of immense satisfaction at her vital share in Nevil's +success, and his frank recognition thereof, the father's +heart—jealous for his child's happiness—foreknew the dangers +inherent in overgenerous draughts of the headiest wine on +earth; the fatal human tendency to lose sight of the giver +in the gift. And when sons came to them—how would it +fare with her then? Would the brave words spoken in the +glow of desire hold good in face of concrete facts? Nevil +was an excellent fellow and singularly wide-minded: not +a doubt of it. Yet Sir Lakshman wondered very much. +</p> + +<p> +But when all was said the one imperative anxiety +overshadowed every other—her health. Too well he knew the +heavy toll paid by his race for the doubtful privilege of +culture; the tale of promising young lives cut short by the +treacherous grey winters of the West. Her small dry cough +and smiling listlessness pierced his heart. They worried +Miss Hammond too. That was plain. Something more +radical was needed than two or three months on the +Continent. A winter in India might very well work wonders. +She need not come to Hyderabad. He would mention it to +Nevil. If need were, he would insist. +</p> + +<p> +Soothed by the prospect of definite action, he emptied +his teacup and lit a cigarette. Most certainly he must find +or make opportunity for a frank talk with his son-in-law +before the day was out. +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani came down looking a shade more fragile than +usual. She had slept badly, she said, on account of the +storm; and Sir Lakshman had a moment of quiet unreasoning +annoyance as he glanced from her dusky pallor and +shadowed eyes to her husband's clear-skinned virile face. +Health has, at times, a knack of appearing unsympathetic, +even when it is not. For, though Sir Lakshman did not +guess it, Nevil's secret anxiety matched his own. +</p> + +<p> +In the middle of breakfast he was called down to the +telephone. An artist cousin of Martino's, passing through Nice, +begged him to come over for the day. He accepted; and +returning to Sir Lakshman's sitting-room, announced his +intention and his train. The Indian mentally relegated his +straight talk to the after-dinner hour; a propitious hour, +when the dinner is likely to be a good one; and the faintest +possible shadow clouded Lilamani's face. Her wakeful night +had culminated in a decision; and she too must wait till +evening for a chance of speech. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't mind my running away, do you, dear?" +Nevil asked later when they had a moment alone. "If you +lie down this morning, you may get back some of the sleep +you lost. And you've no lack of good company for this +afternoon. I don't doubt Sir Lakshman's blessing me for +giving him a clear field!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. That is possible!" she answered lightly, though +her smile had the shadow of constraint that had troubled +him for a week or more. +</p> + +<p> +Questions as to what was wrong produced the invariable +answer: "Not anything," and immediate change of subject. +Some fanciful bogey no doubt; and he had decided +not to worry her till sea and sunshine had more nearly +wrought their perfect work. "Go for a drive out Esterelle +way, you two," he suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. That I would like—better than all." +</p> + +<p> +But the lost sleep was not recaptured: and when Sir +Lakshman unwittingly echoed Nevil's suggestion—in the +hope of a confidential talk, that should determine the tone +of to-night's arraignment—she baffled him by including +Audrey in the plan. It was not the first time she had +eluded him thus, since coming to Antibes; and whether she +did it of set purpose he could never tell. For once he +attempted protest. +</p> + +<p> +"I was not meaning Miss Hammond. Do you want her +specially to-day?" +</p> + +<p> +Her grave smile hinted at reproach. "Not more than +other days. Only—think how unkind, Father mine, +leaving her in the cold. And she would so much enjoy to +come." +</p> + +<p> +She did enjoy it; more than Sir Lakshman, who left +conversation mainly to the women, and carried on a vigorous +argument with Nevil in his own mind. +</p> + +<p> +After tea Lilamani slipped quietly away without a word +to either: and, as sunset drew on, Sir Lakshman wandered +out alone to the rocky headland, raging inwardly against the +invisible Something that debarred him from heart to heart +communion with his Jewel of Delight. The very name he +so loved seemed a mockery now, in view of her pale cheeks +and trouble-haunted eyes. Enforced repression, and a sense +of being baffled at every turn, stirred the primitive passions +that burn beneath the surface impassivity of the Rajput, +and wrought him to a mood of mind ill-befitting the delicate +task of approaching an Englishman on the subject of his +wife. +</p> + +<p> +But mere movement and the nameless influences of the +hour were not without effect; and he decided to make the +round of the Cap before going back to his room, where he +hoped to find a vanished Lilamani awaiting him in the dusk. +He had intended that she should share his stroll, and enjoy +with him, as of old, the evening pageantry of sea and sky. +But the Gods were against him every way; and their glory +manifest in the heavens mocked him rather than consoled. +He walked on, bathed in it, while the chill wind of doubt +blew through his heart. Could it be that he had done wrong +in granting her the thing she craved? If so, well—it was +conceivable that he might forgive himself; but never the +man who had tempted him to her undoing. +</p> + +<p> +He had reached the Cap now. Fretted and caressed by the +darkening waters, it lay before him empty of the usual +sunset strollers, who were over at Cannes waging a Lenten +Battle of Flowers. No threat to-night of coming storm. The +wind was sinking with the sun, and all the west one still, +clear lake of gold barred with flakes and strands of dusky +purple cloud. Deeper purple still, the carven headland of +the Esterelles brooded darkly between a bronze-green sea +and a molten sky. Beautiful past question: yet without her +vivid, peculiar joy in it all, mere beauty seemed to lack +significance. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Sir Lakshman stood still. He was not alone +after all. +</p> + +<p> +Some distance ahead of him, under the lee of a myrtle +bush, sat a dark figure, huddled together, as if the head +rested on the hands. But the arms were not visible. Their +owner was cloaked and hooded. The father's heart quickened, +as he moved a step or two nearer. Then he knew. +She had come out after all; and had preferred to come alone. +A trifling detail; yet it hurt the man as she had never hurt +him yet. +</p> + +<p> +At the sound of his step she sprang up so swiftly that he +hurried forward, half-fearing she would evade him even +now. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani—my child!" he cried, slipping an arm round +her. "What has come over you that you should run away +like this, deserting your old father when so few days are +left for being together? Why shut the door of your heart +against me—unless that you are unhappy——?" +</p> + +<p> +"No—not that, Father mine. Only some foolishness—through +not being well. But you must please believe—whatever +comes, your Lilamani is happy—happy——" +</p> + +<p> +And by way of confirming her statement she fell sobbing +on his breast. +</p> + +<p> +For a few minutes he soothed her without speech. But +the doubt and trouble that seethed in him could no longer +be repressed. +</p> + +<p> +"A strange fashion of happiness, Light of my Life. I +know you would not speak lies to me. Yet neither will you +speak all the truth. You would not even drive alone with +me to-day, when I so greatly wished——" +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow, dearest—to-morrow," she assured him, +choking back her sobs. "We will ride on the sea, like old +times. You and I only. Nevil will understand. Then we +shall talk more freely of—of some things——" +</p> + +<p> +"And why not to-night?" he asked, increasingly bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head without lifting it. "Please not ask. +Please understand." +</p> + +<p> +The old childish formula smote him, and he held her +closer. +</p> + +<p> +"Take me back now," she pleaded; and still supporting +her, he led her along the path. "Not any more Lilamani-talk," +she commanded, smiling. But the doors being once +opened the trouble of his mind must out. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you imagine one moment I shall make criticism or +discussion of your husband?" said he, quietly disregarding her +behest. "Am I not Hindu also, and you the daughter of +my begetting? But I cannot return to India, seeing you +in this state, and knowing my child of the sun must again +endure the grey cold of English autumn and winter, so +fatal for our race." He felt the small irrepressible shiver +and went rapidly on: "No daughter of Rajputs will cry +out for trifles. But, from my own heart, I know it is telling +on you more than you will confess. So much was changed +by the sudden death of Sir George. That I understand. +Also success and many friends will make Nevil more inclined +for living in England than before. But I shall suggest that +he must bring you to India, where he can make further +study of Eastern subjects on the spot——" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not say that," she broke in with such decision that +he came to a standstill and looked searchingly in her face. +"Lilamani—what is your reason? More mysteries? Or +is it possible—you do not wish——?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Father—Father!" In the mingled reproach and +longing of that cry from her heart, he had all the answer he +desired. But she added swiftly, lest he take self-justification +for consent. "We have spoken of that already; and he +says not possible. Too far. Too much money, I think—he +does not wish——" +</p> + +<p> +"Leave all to me, child. There is duty of husband to +wife, as of wife to her lord; more especially in the West. +Leave it to me." +</p> + +<p> +His decision outmatched her own; and she, between secret +longing and innate instinct of submission to the masculine +note of command, said no more. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0310"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER X +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "A man's whole victory over Fate begins with a question."<br> + PERCIVAL GIBBONS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Except as regards the menu, dinner that night, in Sir +Lakshman's former sitting-room, could not be reckoned +a notable success. To Audrey it recalled an earlier +dinner, after the storm, when she had counted the moments +till she could escape. But to-night she was less concerned +for herself than for "the child," whose eyes suggested +tincture of belladonna; the more so that two dusky patches of +carmine burned in her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +How much did she know of her father's intent? A few +words from him before dinner had apprised Audrey of his +wish to secure half an hour with Nevil alone. Lilamani +would no doubt retire early, and he would regard it as a +favour if she left at the same time. The man was clearly +too intent upon his purpose to leave anything to chance; +and Audrey, as was natural, fell to wondering what he +meant to say, and how Nevil would receive it, when she +ought to have been coining talk. +</p> + +<p> +Of the four, Nevil only was not obsessed by the sense of +something impending. Yet even he gleaned a hint of it +from his wife's face, and the fact that she wore her mother-o'-pearl +<i>sari</i>. He had not seen it for more than a week; and +his eyes were not so "deaf for the language of colour" as +they had been a year ago. He knew now that she never +wore that <i>sari</i> in deeply-troubled or despondent moods, and +took its reappearance for a sign that the mercury was rising +within. No doubt she had dismissed the hidden worry that +hung between them like a veil; and he was glad. +</p> + +<p> +But, Lilamani apart, his natural serenity was clouded by +much talk with Carlo Martino of the dead Andrea, who, +in spite of mortal frailty, had seemed always too vividly, +too passionately alive to go down into the Great Silence, +even for a space. +</p> + +<p> +Though caring little for money, and rarely speaking of +it, he had, it seemed, left more behind him than a +distinguished name. But no form of will had transpired, beyond +a half-sheet of foolscap, folded and sealed, bequeathing two +incomparable sea-pieces "to Sir Nevil and Lady Sinclair +(Lilamani) for grateful remembrance of one summer, +not-to-be-forgotten, on Lake Como." Nevil Sinclair had felt +no shame of the tears that ached behind his eyeballs when he +looked upon that half-sheet of paper, henceforth to be +counted among his most priceless possessions. +</p> + +<p> +To-night the voices of the living were lost in the clarion +call of that dead friend who had bidden him cease from +making glowworms with his eternal cigarette, and from +choking with earth that "spark from the fire of God," +which had since leapt up triumphantly in flame. To-night +his art, and all it stood for, shone full in his eyes as when one +looks toward the rising sun; while against the radiance of it +men and women moved as silhouetted shadows. But for +this, he had surely lifted before now the veil, woven of +worshipful, fanciful tremors, that had shut him out of late +from the inmost sanctuary of his wife's heart. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it befell that the thoughts of all were more active +than their tongues; and soon after coffee had been served, +Lilamani rose to go. She was tired, not having recaptured +that lost sleep, she explained vaguely to whom it might +concern. Then she kissed her father with a heart so full of her +husband that she missed the meaning pressure of his hand. +In passing Nevil, her eyes said: "Come. I have +something to say"; and he nodded a smiling assurance. He +himself had much to say of Martino; and decided to join +her when he had finished his cigar. A stroll in the +moonlight, if she were not too tired, would suit his mood. +</p> + +<p> +Audrey went out with her, smiling to think how little +Nevil guessed at collusion; and at Lilamani's door they +stopped. +</p> + +<p> +"Am I to come in?" Audrey asked. Her voice had a +gentler note than of old. +</p> + +<p> +"Not to-night, please, dear Audrey. I have reason." +</p> + +<p> +She lifted her face to be kissed with so childlike a gesture, +that Audrey, guessing the "reason," felt a queer +contraction of heart. +</p> + +<p> +"You will never get back lost sleep or lost health, my +dear," she said, kissing the flushed cheek, "if you bury your +troubles and brood over them. There's been one in your +eyes all this week." +</p> + +<p> +"Not trouble." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, then—something else. Can't you tell Audrey? +You said once I stood in place of Mataji——" +</p> + +<p> +For a second or two Lilamani confronted those quiet +questioning eyes. Then a hot blush submerged her even to +the temples. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe you know quite well, without any telling," +said she, studying the tip of her gold-embroidered shoe. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe I do," Audrey answered gravely. "And—is +that all?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is all—for now." And Audrey kissed her again. +</p> + +<p> +"He doesn't know. She is afraid to tell him," was the +older woman's thought as she went slowly down to the +central hall. "And he——? I wonder——!" +</p> + +<p> +</p> + +<p> +His wife was wondering also, as she stood alone on the +threshold of her open French window, watching a tawny-golden +moon disentangle herself leisurely from the last of +the tree-tops, and dissolve as leisurely from orange-golden +to the amber glow that puts the stars to shame. She had +been wondering now for a week and more without arriving +at any definite conclusion, save that, for her father's sake, +she could put off speaking no longer. Absorbed in her own +anguish of uncertainty—her unreasoning self-torment over +the unavoidable, intensified by ill-health—she had not +realized, till to-night, how wrong it was to keep silence +when half a dozen words might set her father's mind at +rest. +</p> + +<p> +And he—her lord—himself the giver——? +</p> + +<p> +That there could be any shadow of doubt on such a +matter, was to her Eastern heart a calamity almost beyond +endurance: her crowning punishment at the hands of her +outraged Gods. Joy in the knowledge that at last the great +consummation was hers, had been strangled at birth by the +old serpent suspicion—scotched, not killed—that, in the +deep of his heart, her husband might be hoping to evade the +full price of possession; the stigma of passing on the +Sinclair title and estates to a son who had not pure English +blood in his veins. Not unnatural; that she must needs +admit. Pride of race was an instinct she could very well +understand. Yet, in such a case her heart cried out that he +had no right—no right—— +</p> + +<p> +A dry sob shook her; and covering her face she sank into +a low chair, set always near the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +Before they left Bramleigh she had known how it was +with her. But at that moment the fulfilling of her first +gift had absorbed him to the exclusion of all else. Better +wait, her heart had whispered, and tell him after—at +Antibes, where all things would speak to him of those early +days when father, family, country had weighed as feathers in +the scale against his great love and desire of her. +</p> + +<p> +But, alas, waiting gave time for thought; and thought +bred a host of fears that grew and whispered and distorted +themselves with a fiendish versatility; speaking always in +the voice of That Terrible, whose unforgetable sentence +was the germ whence they had sprung. Had this great +hope of motherhood come sooner, no doubt she had accepted +it more simply and sanely. But now, ill-health and strain +and long brooding on the one idea inclined her to see all +things a little out of their true proportion, till at moments +she wondered if she would ever find courage to speak at all. +Well she knew that, if her fears were grounded, not all his +chivalrous tenderness and reticence could blind her to truth. +From such knowledge he could not shield her—he +could not! One look into his eyes would suffice. And +if—if——! +</p> + +<p> +Sooner death for herself and her gift, than that he should +not deem it the crown of all, was her desperate thought. +With a shuddering sigh she let fall her hands. Oh, +when—when would he come? His eyes had said he understood; +and with each moment of waiting courage waned. +</p> + +<p> +Her room adjoined their dining-room, and the steady +murmur of voices through the wall recalled that earlier day, +when her fate had hung in the balance. Suddenly the voices +grew louder. Was her father, in sheer love for her, making +fresh trouble on her account, just when she had that to tell +which might be deemed the greater trouble than all? +</p> + +<p> +A torment of restlessness took hold of her. She rose and +paced the room, every sensitive nerve of doubt and suspense +strained almost to breaking-point. Then she stood still +again upon the threshold, and saw how the moonlight +seemed magically to be drinking up the shadows along the +wide path to the sea. The brooding calm of it all drew +her with the potency of a command. Again, as on that +still morning of frost, sudden longing seized her to be out +there alone in the heart of silence. Surely there, if +anywhere, peace and courage would revisit her soul. At least +she would escape from those distracting voices that might +go on for another hour. +</p> + +<p> +When nerves and imagination are overwrought, impulse +seems the voice of inspiration. The garden called her. She +would go. Already she was fastening her cloak with +unsteady fingers, thankful for the mere relief of movement +after the nervous tension of waiting. +</p> + +<p> +Outside in the passage she started and stood still. +Through the sitting-room door the voices sounded clearer; +Nevil's raised this time in manifest remonstrance. Again, as +on that night at Cadenabbia, all thought of right or wrong +was blotted out by the imperative need to know; and again +came punishment, sharp as the stroke of a sword. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear sir, I'd infinitely rather not," she heard Nevil +say, with a touch of impatience. "I don't think you quite +realize what a big sacrifice you ask of me. Last year, as +I've explained, my position was utterly different. But +now—with so many new interests opening up, to lease +Bramleigh Beeches and practically live abroad——!" +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani heard no more. She had no business to hear. +His anger at Como came suddenly back to her. And clapping +both hands over her ears, she sped like a thing pursued, +down the shallow staircase, through the empty public +dining-room, out into the night—— +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +And the two in the sitting-room, guessing nothing of +danger to her they loved, from tension of waiting and nerves +at strain, continued to weigh her fate in the balance, even +as they had done a year ago, in that very room, on a +moonlit night of March. +</p> + +<p> +Nevil's wish to join her, after a brief concession to +politeness, had been increased by a vague sense of disturbance, +almost of antagonism, in the air. Too well he knew that +Sir Lakshman had cause for anxiety; nor did he look to +part from him without rendering some account of his +stewardship. But to-night, between thoughts of Martino, +desire of his wife, and an inspiriting review of his exhibition +in <i>Le Temps</i>, by Leseppes, he was not in the mood. Moreover, +he had all the Englishman's distaste for interposition, +however legitimate, between man and wife. +</p> + +<p> +But as he rose Sir Lakshman put out a detaining hand. +</p> + +<p> +"You will spare me another fifteen minutes, Nevil. +There is a matter, not yet freely spoken of between us, that +has been on my mind all day." +</p> + +<p> +Politely repressing a sigh, Nevil sat down again and prepared +to light a cigarette. "Very well, sir; if it won't take +too long. Lilamani's waiting up for me, and she's tired." +</p> + +<p> +"That I know too well. And it is because of that—because +every day she is seeming a little more tired—that +I must ask you plainly, before leaving—is your heart +satisfied about her? Mine is not." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil frowned thoughtfully at his empty coffee-cup, +recalling his talk with Broome. This man had twice the +right to speak; and yet... Nevil felt perversely restive +under the Indian's look and tone. +</p> + +<p> +"She is in a very poor state of health," he answered with +studied quietness, "or we should not be here. Are you +implying anything else?" +</p> + +<p> +"No need to waste time in implying. My child's welfare +and happiness are more than my own. I am troubled—uncertain +about many things; and only straight talk will +serve." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil inclined his head. "You shall have straight +answers, I promise you. About her health I am as worried as +yourself. It's the one grave drawback——" +</p> + +<p> +"And you think to make it right by a few months on the +Mediterranean?" the other put in quickly. "That is +where you mistake. I know that specialist of London said +no lung trouble yet. But unless there is great care, great +improvement of health—I tell you, Nevil, it will come. It +is your country's backhanded fashion of encouragement to +pioneers of our race, especially when very young and +over-early developed. Being myself responsible for permitting +this marriage, how shall my conscience not feel disturbed in +seeing her thus? No criticism of you is in my thought, you +understand. And yet—you cannot know as I do——" +</p> + +<p> +"I know quite enough to make me confoundedly anxious," +Nevil declared with a touch of heat. "You did permit +the marriage, thank God; and for her sake I've left England +and my Place at a moment when I particularly wanted to +be on the spot. What more would you have me do? You +must consider that I am an Englishman, with peculiarly +strong ties binding me to the country——" +</p> + +<p> +"That I do consider. I also consider that you are husband +of a woman outside the ordinary. Though her father, +I think I have right in saying there are not too many of her +quality in India or otherwheres. For love of you, she is +facing many difficulties. Is it good to make them greater +than must be? When we spoke of such things in this same +room one year ago, you said, from your own impulse, that +difficulty of climate need not count, because you would be +willing to live chiefly abroad. But now——" +</p> + +<p> +He turned out his hands, Eastern fashion; and Nevil +Sinclair leaned suddenly forward, a spark of fire in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"You infer that I have gone back on my word, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Nevil, I infer no such thing. But in justification +of myself I repeat only what you said." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. I did say it. And I meant it. But how on earth +could I foresee such big changes in so short time? Then +I was an amateur artist; a cosmopolitan Bohemian, with no +taste for loafing at home, and no very urgent duties to +keep me there. Now my duties are obvious and imperative: +my father's place to fill as best I can, and a big, heavily-mortgaged +estate to keep going, as far as possible on the old +lines. What's more, I have grown to love the Place in a +way I never thought possible. As for my work, I'm an +amateur no longer, but an acknowledged artist—of +promise—if no more——" +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman raised his hand. "Consider one moment, +Nevil, in speaking of that last. It has been my pleasure and +pride to see that no one is more ready to acknowledge how +much of your so rapid success is owing to Lilamani herself. +Ask your own heart then—does it square with your British +sense of fair play, that you reap all benefit of these changes +you speak of, while she must pay all the price?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course not. Surely you know me better than that." +</p> + +<p> +"So I was imagining," the other answered with his grave +smile. "And in such a case you will listen fairly to what I +shall say. A couple of months here will not make Lilamani +fit for facing your English autumn and winter again so soon; +and your friend Broome, if willing for a longer lease, can +surely be trusted to look after your interests as if they were +his own. Why not, then, leave your estates in his care—I +do not say for always; but for a term of years, that you may +be more free——" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear sir," Nevil broke in sharply, "I'd infinitely +rather not. I don't think you quite realize what a big +sacrifice you ask of me. Last year, as I've explained, my +position was utterly different. But, now—with so many +new interests opening up—to lease Bramleigh Beeches and +practically live abroad——!" +</p> + +<p> +"Not even for the sake of bringing greater health and +happiness to that wife who has made, for love of you, a +sacrifice bigger than you—not being Eastern—can ever +understand?" +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman drove home each word of his plea with a +quiet, forcible distinctness, that did not fail of its effect. +Nevil Sinclair extinguished his cigarette stump, and for +several minutes considered the pattern of the carpet with +profound attention. The Indian, determined to gain his +point, found encouragement even in such negative acquiescence. +</p> + +<p> +"No harm, but rather benefit to your art," he went on, +exchanging the forcible note to one of persuasion, "from +some years spent in other lands than England. And since +you have done so well with Eastern subjects, you will be the +more able to combine closer study for yourself with the +light and warmth that are so needful for this child of the +sun you have taken to wife. Better than all, give her a year +in India, Nevil——" +</p> + +<p> +Lilamani's husband looked up quickly. "No, not that, +sir. Not India—yet." +</p> + +<p> +From the moment Sir Lakshman began to speak he had +known it was impending. Yet the actual word came as a +shock. So also did his abrupt refusal to the man who had +believed victory in sight. +</p> + +<p> +"And why not India?" he asked, up in arms at once for +his own country. "Surely——" +</p> + +<p> +"Please don't think me unkind or unreasonable, sir, or +take my refusal amiss. I can't explain myself. But you +must accept my word for it that India's out of the question." +</p> + +<p> +As if to clinch the matter he rose, braced his shoulders, +and going over to the open door stood there in a long +silence, while the opposing forces of passion and ambition, +pride of possession and worshipful devotion to her through +whom he had found himself, clashed within him mightily +yet without sound. Gazing abstractedly down the pearl-grey +path of radiance that ended in the ghostly glimmer of +the Mediterranean, he noted, with vague interest, a dusky +speck that moved from one pool of shadow to another, far +away, down by the balustrade where the rocks fell sheer to +the sea. That this moving speck concerned him, even +remotely, he did not dream. Unthinkingly he saw it vanish +into the last of the shadows; and straightway forgot it +altogether. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman, wondering and waiting in a pained suspense, +never removed his gaze from the significant-looking +figure in the doorway. If not India—what of the first +proposition, unanswered so far? +</p> + +<p> +The question was almost on his lips when Nevil Sinclair +turned abruptly and spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"You're right, sir. Absolutely right. For the present, +at all events, Bramleigh Beeches must stand back. There +are difficulties, of course. It's a matter that can't be fixed +up in five minutes. But I shall not change my mind. So +you can set yours at rest." +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman let out a breath of relief. "The Gods be +praised! I have not believed in you without good reason, +Nevil. And I am the more thankful for your decision +because—not through any word from her—I have a thought +that more than her health is concerned." +</p> + +<p> +Nevil nodded. "Yes—yes. I admit things have been +difficult—for us both, in many ways. Surface things—that +time will set right; but still—— With me, as you are +aware, her nationality simply doesn't count. She's herself; +and God knows a man need ask no more of her. But I +can't make others see with my eyes all in a moment——" +</p> + +<p> +He broke off with a start. For the door opened suddenly; +and Audrey stood before them; a little pale, a little out of +breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani's not here?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"No," from both men at once, and Sir Lakshman sprang +to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +"I looked in on her to say good night," Audrey went on. +"But her room was empty. D'you think—would she go +out into the garden alone, at this time of night?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why d'you ask that?" It was Nevil who spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Only because I saw someone in a cloak pass along the +verandah about ten minutes ago. I thought no more of it +till I found her gone. But I know she has something very +much on her mind; and she has such fanciful notions about +things—the moonlight and the sea——" Poor Audrey +floundered sadly out of her depth. "At any rate—we +might ask the waiters. It's possible——" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed, it <i>is</i> possible. And other things—worse +things, are possible as she is to-night." +</p> + +<p> +Sir Lakshman, knowing the women of his race, spoke with +a strange vehemence quite unlike himself. +</p> + +<p> +"Go, Nevil, go!" He gripped his son-in-law by the +arm. "Bring her safe back with you, or—by God——" +</p> + +<p> +Nevil did not wait to hear the rest. He strode out, +slamming the door. That speck moving from shadow to shadow +came suddenly back to him; and remembrance of a certain +night on Como laid an icy clutch upon his heart. +</p> + +<p> +Audrey followed him out, leaving the distracted father +alone. Hearing her footsteps, Nevil turned and confronted +her. +</p> + +<p> +"Something very much on her mind, you said?" +</p> + +<p> +"I thought so." +</p> + +<p> +"Did she tell you what it was?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not exactly. There was no need. I understood." A +pause: then, for Lilamani's sake, Audrey found courage to +add with deliberate, unmistakable significance: +"Nevil—can't you guess?" +</p> + +<p> +Look and tone enlightened him. +</p> + +<p> +"That? Good God!" he exclaimed under his breath—and +was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Audrey stood still for many minutes looking at the empty +space where he had been, wondering what that fervent +expletive might bode for Lilamani's "great gift." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap0311"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER THE LAST +</h3> + +<p class="intro2"> + "O very woman, god at once and child,<br> + What ails thee to desire of me once more<br> + The assurance that thou hadst in heart before?<br> + For all this wild, sweet waste of sweet, vain breath,<br> + Thou knowest, I know thou hast given me<br> + Life, not Death."<br> + SWINBURNE.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +And out there in full moonlight, while the two men +talked, the dusky speck, seen of Nevil, moved restlessly +to and fro in the open sandy space, where no balustrade +intervenes between sheer rocks and the sea. +</p> + +<p> +Not even night and silence could baptize the soul of +Lilamani Sinclair with the dew of peace. Fleeing from her +overwrought self, imprisoned within four walls, she found +only that self, and none other, here at the edge of all things. +None other: that was the horror of it. But there came +another; a ghostly presence, unseen, yet acutely felt, close to +her shoulder, whispering insistently at her ear. And the +voice was the voice of Jane. One half of her mind knew +it for a product of nerves and imagination; the other half +shivered, at the chill nearness of it, like a naked soul in the +winds between the worlds. +</p> + +<p> +And through all these importunate unrealities of sight +and sound, Nevil's voice, with its note of remonstrance, +sounded clearer than all. "You don't quite realize what a +big sacrifice you ask of me." "Give up Bramleigh Beeches +and practically live abroad——" +</p> + +<p> +Oh, it was impossible, past thinking. How could that +dear father—always so wise—make fresh trouble on her +account, when already she had made too much in this great +English family. Nevil had told her nothing about his own +bearding of Jane, save that she need not distress herself +over George, who could be trusted not to fling away five +thousand a year plus a woman who loved him. His parting +with her had been awkward and constrained; Jane's, +frigidly polite; and her own secret wish had been that she +might see neither of them again. They had rubbed the +bloom off everything with their "muddy thoughts." For +that last encounter with Lady Roscoe, striking sharp on her +joy in Nevil's triumph—and she peculiarly unfit for +emotional strain—had produced upon her an effect out of all +proportion to the cause; dashing her rudely to earth, just +when her wings had begun to flutter afresh; obscuring the +worth of her first great gift in renewed sense of her own +unfitness, not for wifehood, but for Lady Sinclairhood and +all it involved. Better for him by far, whispered the +malign voice at her ear, had he married his true English +mate—Leslie de Winton, who would have fulfilled the +needs of his art and of his great house no less; and—bitterest +"and"—would have given him sons of his own blood +to carry on his distinguished name. +</p> + +<p> +Yet of his own heart and will he had chosen her—Lilamani; +perhaps without thought of sons or of great names. +And now—when she told him, would he be glad in his +inmost heart? Or would he——? +</p> + +<p> +Oh, what foolishness to torment herself thus for more +than a week! And yet—better uncertainty than a +certainty she could scarce endure, and live. Had she been +capable of pouring out her heart to Audrey, much had been +spared her. But she was not so made; and it is written +that passionate love has a danger for natures over-sensitive +and reserved, unknown to the more volatile and expansive. +Yet had her sole lapse from self-imposed silence—one +shower of tears unexplained, one cry from her heart—wrought +this gravest complication of all. +</p> + +<p> +Instinctively her Eastern womanhood rebelled against the +idea that her lord should change his way of life in any +degree on her account. And her father—himself a Hindu—what +possessed him to suggest such madness? Too well +her heart knew the answer—love, sheer love, hard pressed +by secret fears. For a week or more, whenever his eyes +rested upon her, she had seen that love in them suffering +dumbly, and yet had not found courage for speech. Oh, +coward, and self-thinking, to spoil that dear father's last +week with her, through fear of her own pain. +</p> + +<p> +And in two small days he would be gone. The great sea, +that brooded and murmured below among the rocks, would +turn traitor, even like the moon to-night, and take him +from her. If only they two might go also—they three, her +heart whispered shyly, as she turned her steps seaward and +stood upon a grey slab of rock, gazing out across that +mysterious other-world which casts so strange a spell over +dwellers on land. +</p> + +<p> +Softly still and dark, the wide waters slept beneath the +stars, save where moon-butterflies, in their thousands, made +a shimmering path of light. The eternal wonder and glory +of it was new every morning every evening. Yet to-night, +for the first time, she hated it, almost, that it divided her +irrevocably from the dear, deserted Motherland; that India, +where no doubt could ever be how husband would receive +such news as she had to tell. +</p> + +<p> +A verse from the English psalm-book she loved, spoke +the cry of her heart: "Oh, that I had the wings—the +wings of a dove——!" And with evil intent that voice +at her ear whispered of strong unclouded sunlight, the still +lakes and feathered palm-fronds of her own Hyderabad. +The temple-bell, the familiar street cries and scents assailed +her with poignant vividness. And through it all, as +through a brilliant veil, she saw the chill grey skies of her +husband's land; the great house, the ubiquitous servants, the +"needless ones" for ever at her gates! By some fiendish +freak of her distraught imagination, Nevil seemed purposely +to obliterate himself from the picture——. +</p> + +<p> +What did it mean? What madness had come upon her? +Pressing her hands to her temples she stood so, striving for +self-mastery. And lo, another voice—a voice of temptation, +from the great sea itself, "Here is rest. Here +forgetfulness," murmured the lazy breakers that lapped against +her rock. Like Eve in the old, old legend, this daughter of +lake and plain, seemed to have hid a wave of the sea in her +blood. And now, wave called to wave, with alluring insistence. +</p> + +<p> +A little foam upon the water; and the sea, that incomparable, +insatiable lover, would take into his deep heart the +dream that was her body, while the dream that was her +soul passed on—— +</p> + +<p> +Startled, she stepped back a space; and the wonder grew +and strengthened in her—was this no temptation, but +inspiration rather, pointing the way, not so much to rest +from her strange weariness, as to freedom for him—her +god among men? No passionate impulse now—as on that +night by the waters of Como: but the innate desire of her +storm-tossed heart to win happiness for him at any cost to +herself. Would not Sita, model of wifehood, have done no +less? Sooner than shadow of stain on her lord's name, or +shadow of trouble on his heart—an end of Lilamani——. +</p> + +<p> +True, that night on Como he had been angered, desperate, +hurt. Yet now—how different! Then—she had much +still to give. Now, it seemed she had given all that he had +need of—from her; all that she and none else could have +given. Must she then pass on; leaving that other—(a red-hot +shaft of jealousy here)—to give him those things which +were beyond her power——? +</p> + +<p> +How should she tell? How think clearly when thoughts +and voices buzzed in her brain like angry bees——! +</p> + +<p> +Stepping again to the rock's edge, she stood looking down +into the waiting depths—stone still, as one who listens for +a signal. +</p> + +<p> +But there came no signal: only the alluring whisper of +the sea. +</p> + +<p> +With a despairing gesture she flung out her arms; swayed +a little backward; then forward—— +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani—Lilamani—where are you?" +</p> + +<p> +The call reached her just in time. Almost miraculously +she regained her balance, and stood rigid, scarcely able to +believe her ears. +</p> + +<p> +The desperate note in her husband's voice stilled every +tremor, every doubt. It was the signal. The gods did not +demand this twofold sacrifice at her hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani!" +</p> + +<p> +The call came again, appreciably nearer. +</p> + +<p> +"Come to me. I am here," she called back; a ring of +triumph in her clear tones. +</p> + +<p> +Two minutes later he sprang, a flying shadow, out of the +massed shadows behind— +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +For almost an eternity, it seemed to her, they stood, +locked together; his pulses hammering, his breath coming +in short gasps from the speed of his race. The terror of +that night on Como had been his, increased fourfold by his +lightning-flash of knowledge: and now that he held her +warm and living in his arms, emotion struck too deep for +any word of love, or of thanksgiving. He did not even +kiss her. It was enough that he held her, almost crushed +her against him, forgetful for once of her fragility. The +pain of that mute passionate embrace was pure balm to +her heart; and when at last he spoke, his voice had an +under-note of sternness more thrilling than a caress. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe—I was only just in time?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." The word was a breath merely. +</p> + +<p> +"You really would——?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh-h, not say it!" She shuddered; and he gripped her +closer. But the note of sternness deepened. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani, when I left Como last year, you swore to me, +by—the most sacred of all things, that this madness should +never come back. How—dare—you break your promise?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Nevil! I promised—for then. Not thinking +beyond. But now—so different. I am no more needed for +Sita; no more making sister of you seem like murderer. I +am only making too much trouble in your family, your +home. And to-night—passing the door, I stopped—I +heard——" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>What?</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"You were saying—true enough, how can you give up +Bramleigh Beeches and be living abroad, because of me. +Much too big sacrifice——" +</p> + +<p> +"Think a moment, little wife. Did I say 'too big'?" +</p> + +<p> +"N-no. You said 'what a big——' But, dear lord, it +was madness of my father to speak such a thing. It is not +possible—not right—that for one small woman such great +sacrifice shall be made." +</p> + +<p> +"Not even when that small woman"—his lips were close +to her ear—"is to be the mother of my son?" +</p> + +<p> +At that word, heard for the first time, she drew a soft +breath of rapture. +</p> + +<p> +"How—how did you know?" +</p> + +<p> +"From something Audrey said—I guessed." +</p> + +<p> +"And—you are wishing—that son, truthfully, in your +heart?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am wishing him truthfully, with all my heart." +</p> + +<p> +A long pause, filled with the whisper of the sea; tempter +no longer, but prophet of peace. Then she—taking +courage in both hands, determined to know all: "Nevil, +have I been hurting my soul with pain and doubt for +nothing? Did you wish him—just so much—from the +first?" +</p> + +<p> +Freeing a hand, he pressed her head against his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Lilamani—if there is to be an end of doubt and pain +between us, you must have the truth," he said quietly. "I +did not wish him—just so much—from the first. For +some time I simply put away the thought. I had you. +That was enough. Then—when we got home to the +Beeches, I began to realize—well, how much I was my +father's son, after all. It was a bad minute for me, little +wife; and it came just when things were so discouragingly +difficult. You remember?" +</p> + +<p> +"How shall I forget?" she spoke quietly as he; all her +quivering sensibilities held in leash. "And you were +wishing—no children?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not that. Never that. I thought—if we had daughters——" +</p> + +<p> +"O-oh!" Her low sound of dismay was Eastern to the +core. "And since when—were you feeling different?" +</p> + +<p> +"Since Christmas Eve. When I saw you that night, +worshipping that other Nevil, who was no son of mine, a +rage of jealousy flamed up in me; and I knew—not quite +then, but afterwards—that no narrow prejudice of race +could come between me and the need to see you so, with a +son who should be yours and mine." +</p> + +<p> +"You are not wishing him daughter now?" she murmured +in an ecstasy of content. +</p> + +<p> +"No indeed. Shall I tell you just how I see him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Please tell." +</p> + +<p> +"You have given me a new spirit of understanding in so +many things, my Sita Dévi; and in this one above all. Six +months ago I confess I shrank from the idea of a son +handicapped by the stigma of mixed blood. But now—you +being his mother—I refuse to admit the stigma. I see him +as one who will have the strength of his handicap, as one +doubly endowed with the best that two great races can +give—the spirituality of the East, the power and virility +of the West; one whose destiny it may be to draw these +mighty opposites nearer together by his own intimate love +and understanding of both. Is it a good vision you have +given me, beloved?" +</p> + +<p> +She drew in a deep breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Glorious past telling. But it is not I that gave. It is +your own so big heart, and——" +</p> + +<p> +"Hush—listen again. There is more—— You remember +I told you once India was impossible for us?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes?" +</p> + +<p> +He heard the thrill of eagerness in that whispered question; +and had a fleeting instant of hesitation before +committing himself irrevocably to the inspired impulse of a +moment. Then he burnt his boats. +</p> + +<p> +"Well—I had no right to say that. Nothing but my +own selfishness stands in the way of our going out +there—later on. Next time your father comes home we will go +out with him—we three. For your sake, and for the sake +of all your inspiring love has given me, I promise never +again to grudge India her share in the heart of my son." +</p> + +<p> +And she, laying both hands upon him, looked up at last—her +face a beatific vision, in the full light of the moon. +</p> + +<p> +"Husband of me—you are ready for doing all this, only +because of—your Sita Dévi?" +</p> + +<p> +"Only because of my Sita Dévi," he made answer gravely. +"But I also ask a promise in return. Never—while you +live—must you let to-night's madness conquer you again." +</p> + +<p> +"No—no. I promise for always in the name—of him +that shall come after." +</p> + +<p> +And stooping, he sealed that promise with his lips. +Suddenly, the wonder of it all, the incredible change in +heart and hope and outlook, swept over her with the force +of a breaking wave. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I am not deserving!" she cried out, half pushing +herself from him. "All these things you will do, only for +your little wife; and I—I thought, I feared—oh, I have +been a wicked, doubting Lilamani, this long time. But +now—now——" +</p> + +<p> +Swiftly she hid her face against him; and once more, as +on the day of betrothal, the deeps of his manhood were +stirred by her passionate murmur: "Live for ever, my lord +and my king——!" +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +THE END +</p> + +<p><br><br><br><br></p> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78836 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/78836-h/images/img-cover.jpg b/78836-h/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..aeda23f --- /dev/null +++ b/78836-h/images/img-cover.jpg |
